Tempus Fugit Praeterhãc

Thanks once again to all those who have reviewed. The last chapter will be up tomorrow, but I will be splitting it as it is fifteen thousand words long! I am currently working on an epilogue which will be posted as soon as it is complete. For anyone who wants to read "The Slave Breakers" which I recced in the first chapter I have now added a url. *hugs to you all* ~ Lucie

Chapter seven - in which Severus makes an important discovery.

Severus found himself in a dreadful quandary. He had finally, after four years of research and experimentation, found a way to take them back to their own time. The only problem was – he didn’t want to go, he really didn’t want to go – and he didn’t know what to do about it.

When he had become aware, about a week ago, that the last step, the final illusive solution to his dilemma was at hand, it had been with great reluctance that he had made the final calculations necessary to complete that process. He had checked, double checked, and triple checked his research, just to be sure.

He had managed to accomplish what had never been done before. There were time-turners and there were portkeys, but Severus had combined the two - and now, a week later, here it was staring him in the face – a temporal portkey device, or Crux Temporis as he called it. All he and Harry had to do was hold on and say the words of the spell and they would be transported back to 20th century Rome; but with all his heart and soul, Severus didn’t want to go. At some point in the last four years this little corner of Rome had become more than a bolt hole or a safe place to stay. It had become home.

Over the years there had been many times that the potion had failed, or else the dratted spell had fallen apart, and a myriad of other things had gone wrong, but he had never given up. He had promised Harry, sworn that he would never stop looking for a way to take them back. Harry was prophesied to rid the world of Voldemort, even if that world did not really feel like their world any longer. Severus knew that his lover needed to fulfil that destiny, he was the essence of a true hero and he felt the weight of that responsibility every day. He could no more turn his back on the people of that time than he could stop breathing.

Severus decided to go back over the entire magical journey once more before finding and telling Harry. Maybe he would get lucky and find a fatal flaw? He had made some notes for his own research, and planned to either take them with him or destroy them. It would not do for the information that he had compiled to fall into the wrong hands. But his notes helped him think. He picked up the parchment, which was covered in his spidery handwriting and began to read and annotate.

‘The Theory of Sympathetic Magic,’ detailed Severus’ research in minute detail. It described how the real breakthrough had occurred six months after they had arrived in ancient Rome, when Iulius had opened his library for Severus’ use. According to a number of books that he had found in the Patrician’s extensive library, objects became ‘sympathised’ to the time and place they had been acquired, both by frequent handling and close proximity to the people of that time period and place. The books were based on magical theories developed by Greek philosophers, who may also have been wizards, such as Archimedes, Socrates and others. The magical theories they extolled seemed thoroughly examined and plausible to Severus. He was certain that a number of these books on magical theory could well have provided the basis for most of the volumes sitting on his own library shelves and for hundreds more that he had read in his many years of study. Those ancient philosophers certainly seemed to understand sympathetic magic, whether or not they were wizards themselves.

Assuming that the great philosophers were right, Severus hypothesized that he had to combine specific objects and a specific potion to effectively create a hybrid time-turner/portkey. Individually none of the items would have been sufficient but together they would interact, creating a powerful sympathetic magic – and in conjunction with a time spell would be the catalyst to return them to their own time.

He made a few adjustments to his notes, added some authors who had not been included and removed one who was a complete imbecile and should never have been listed in the first place.

The notes on the Tempus Potion detailed how he had combined two potions. The potion to make a portkey was a simple enough one. The potion to make a time-turner was infinitely more complex but not above Severus’ ability. However, the task facing Severus at this point was to adapt these two different potions to create one – the Tempus Potion, as he had decided to call it.

Some people might speculate that this task would be an easy one for a Potions Master of his innate ability. In truth it took another backbreaking year and a half to complete a successful potion. Years composed of copious research and study, hundreds of experimental cauldrons of potions, and of failure after failure.

But Severus was confident of his skill and never lacked patience when it came to brewing. He finally found just the right combination of ingredients and with several days of careful testing, adding precisely the right ingredients at exactly the right time, the Tempus Potion was perfected… or so he believed.

The notes detailed how, with the research done and the potion created, he’d had to find a spell, or, in truth, invent one, using words that would most closely match the magical properties of the Tempus Potion.

He’d decided to name the spell Tempus Fugit Praeterhac. The commonly known spell ‘Tempus Fugit’, meaning something like “time flies”, and used by housewives to speed their cooking, or by eager teenagers keen to appear more grown up was the basis for his research. He vaguely remembered the Weasley twins using a variation in a failed attempt to foil the Goblet of Fire during the Tri-Wizard Tournament in Harry’s fourth year.

But the spell was not nearly complex enough for Severus’ needs. It had taken nearly another two years to perfect it. Two years of studious research, calculation and experimentation until Severus reached the point where he considered it powerful enough, when used in conjunction with the Tempus Potion, to probably, possibly, hopefully take them back to their own time.

Finally he added the final word, Praeterhac, an adverb meaning, ‘further’ or ‘beyond this point,’ which he wove into the complex structure of the spell and it was complete.

For a long time, Severus had reached a stalemate in his work. Even though he’d created the spell and developed the potion, it was obvious that he lacked an essential element. He had no way of linking them to the right moment, returning them to the time that they had left, the one day in all the thousands of days in the years between this time and their own.


The problem was, he still needed an object to use the potion on - the Crux Temporis. He often tried simple tests using the potion with an hourglass and other objects he and Harry frequently handled, sympathetic to their touch. Of course, these were always performed out of sight of anyone in his lab. The use of a local hourglass was not sufficient. It had always failed.

Failure stared him in the face and, in his secret heart of hearts, he rejoiced.

That is, until a week ago – till that fateful day Harry had innocently shown him the remaining contents of the rucksack, contents he had not noticed before.

Harry and Apisus had been spring cleaning and they had found the rucksack abandoned under their bed and Harry had wanted to share it with Apisus and with Severus’ himself.

Inside was a pouch that Severus had never noticed before, which included a variety of strange things including a snitch, a bit of broken mirror and Harry’s broken wand. Severus had known that it was broken. Harry had been using the wand that had once belonged to Draco Malfoy whenever they practiced magic. The other wand had belonged to Bellatrix and Severus had insisted that they destroy it as it was far too full of Dark magic.

Harry had stood wistfully for a moment, looking at his things and then he had bundled them away. It had seemed such a sad little collection of things for Harry to keep and Severus had wanted to hug him and ask him about them.

Harry had returned them all to the pouch though, which he tucked inside the rucksack and instead produced several things that he had bought in 20th century Muggle Rome. Instantly Severus saw the significance of this and the possibilities. There were some sunglasses, sun cream, a little model of a Centurion that had apparently been purchased from a stall just outside the Colisseum and a small Italian flag. Severus carefully removed the rucksack from Harry’s hands before the boy could reach to retrieve them.

It was the beginning of the end… the end of his years of research, the end of their time in Rome, possibly the end… but no, he wouldn’t think of that, not yet.

He’d had no real hope, at all, that he could succeed, until Harry had shown him the contents of his rucksack. They had lain untouched - modern day items in a modern day rucksack – for almost four years.

Severus had been very careful not to touch them with his bare hands, nor had he allowed anyone else to either. Instead he had forged a pair of tongs especially made from some of the silver Sickles they had brought with them. Sickles which, along with a handful of Knuts, had also remained untouched at the bottom of Harry’s rucksack. They had not been needed thanks to the gold Galleons Harry had brought with him, and the money they had made since, all proving more than sufficient for their needs.

Severus speculated that his potion was not quite as complete as he’d thought it. These objects, infused with the sympathetic essence of the time and place they had come from, when added to the Tempus Potion, would be absorbed, infusing it with enough sympathetic essence to enable the Crux Temporis to transport them home. He was especially pleased with the sun cream because it bore an expiry date (which should produce the right ‘era’ essence) and the Centurion that seemed to have been handmade locally just outside Rome (which should produce the right ‘locale’ essence). The glasses and the flag were cheap and commonplace and had probably been made elsewhere, but Severus thought they may well have been in Rome long enough to add to the potion, having absorbed something of the essence of their time.

However, the major stumbling block of what to use as the Crux Temporis still remained. Severus knew he needed a substantial, 20th century item, time sensitive enough to absorb the newly infused Tempus Potion in order to create the Crux Temporis. He could foresee no solution to this dilemma. He assembled the precious objects and created a stasis spell to protect them against time contamination from their present environment until such time as this problem could be solved.

And what if he did solve his problem? What was the guarantee they would arrive at exactly the time and place they had disappeared from? There wasn’t any! What if they arrived in some other place or even days or weeks earlier or later? Harry was still in danger in their own time. Death Eaters were hunting him, as was the Ministry of Magic. No one but Severus had tracked him to Rome, at least not at the time they’d left, so it would probably be safe to return to exactly when and where they had been. Granger and Weasley should be there. But anywhere else and Harry could be in danger, especially as they were likely to be weakened by the journey through time.

The Wrist Watch

Severus had underlined that several times in his notes, it really had been the final ingredient. He had been totally stuck - there had just been too many imponderables. For several days he had prevaricated, finally deciding to tell Harry that he did not think they could proceed, secretly delighted to have a reason to call off the research. He carefully outlined the process to the point where he was stymied. He had no viable object from the future to use as the Crux Temporis.

And it was here the bomb exploded, the hammer fell, the impossible became the possible. Harry surprised him one more time; he had not even tried to suppress the growl when the dratted boy pulled a broken Muggle digital watch from a pocket in that infernal rucksack. He had found his time-turner portkey.

The watch had been the perfect solution. Not only had it been purchased in Rome, apparently from a small backstreet shop where - judging from the slight discolouration on the strap - it had laid for some considerable length of time, but it had stopped at the exact time, on the exact date that they had been sent backwards in time.

The use of the watch, together with the things that Harry had brought with him meant that there was a very strong chance that the spell would indeed do what they wanted it to do. Not that they had any chance to test it, the only test it would get would be when they used it to attempt to go forward to the time from which they’d come. But, with the exact time and date still showing on the watch… well, it was almost guaranteed to work exactly as they wanted it to.

Severus had been stunned. He didn’t know whether to be angry that the damn watch had been there all the time or terrified that now there was nothing to stop him finishing the Crux Temporis. He thanked Harry, gingerly took the wrist-watch with the silver tongs and disappeared into his lab.

He wished that he could tell his lover that the watch hadn’t worked; but he knew instinctively that it would work. The problem was that Severus was an honourable man and once he had given his word he knew that he would keep it, even if it meant that he was taking the man he loved to his certain death. However, he could not help wishing that they had somehow lost the watch along the way.

Severus had tried desperately to control the panic rising in his stomach. He and Harry had enjoyed four years together, four wonderful years, but the discovery of the watch had meant they could hold back no-longer. Everything had been ready.

He’d collected the ingredients that he needed and carefully brewed the potion that would turn Harry’s watch into the Crux Temporis.

Several evenings later, at just the right moment, he’d added to the potion all the small items Harry had brought with him from their time. The next morning, at exactly an hour before dawn, he’d added the last, crucial item to this magical process – Harry’s Muggle digital watch.

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

Severus’ re-examination of the process was complete. He had found no fatal flaws. He rolled up the scroll containing his notes and placed in a locked box that stood on his desk.

Just moments ago he had lifted the lid of the cauldron and, steeling himself (but whether for success or failure, he was beyond knowing), looked inside. The potion had gone, evaporated, absorbed by the object that he had transformed. It stood before him, at the bottom of the cauldron – the Crux Temporis device.

The triumph that Severus normally felt when he created a new spell or charm was for once completely absent; he didn’t want it to work at all if he were completely honest with himself. He had always taken pride in creating new potions, developing new spells and charms, but right then, he couldn’t help wishing that he were as inept at Potions as Horace Slughorn had always been, as Neville Longbottom, as he had always believed Harry to be.

As Severus gazed at the biggest triumph of his distinguished magical career, he fervently wished that he had failed, even though he knew in his heart that he had succeeded.

It was truly time to attempt to take them back to where they belonged – that was, if that place existed anymore – but they were ready to try, there were no excuses left. He placed the Crux Temporis device in magical stasis to keep it as unaffected by the local Roman time as possible. They had no time left, they had to try now as the anniversary of the date that they had travelled backwards, the perfect day to try to return, was in three days.

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

After ensuring that all was ready he went to find Harry. It was not long after sixth hour, so Severus would have stopped working very soon anyway in order to share his midday meal with the boys.

Harry and Apisus were in the garden, it being a lovely sunny spring day. Flea was chasing her tail in amongst the lavender and Harry was trying to teach Apisus to cast a Patronus, and from what Severus could see he was progressing quite well.

All of the people who had been present on the night that Hermia had given birth to her twins seemed to have developed some sort of magical ability, undoubtedly thanks to the enormous amount of magical energy Harry had expended. For most of them the ability was limited, they could barely cast the simplest spell, but considering that none of them had shown any magical capacity before that night, it was a significant change. Four people, however, had been much more affected than the rest, and as far as Severus could tell they were now, to all intents and purposes, witches and wizards.

Hermia seemed to have acquired a considerable magical ability as had both of her twins, even though they were very young they had each in turn had episodes of uncontrolled magic. The fourth person, and perhaps the one who was most magical of all, was Apisus.

Modia had been delighted to suddenly have so much magic in her family, especially what appeared to be three very powerful wizards. The three year old twins had been showing magical aptitude for a couple of years now. Modia, the girl, had been first born and she was stronger and seemingly more advanced than her brother. But it was little Sev, second born and a bit of a miracle to have survived all that he had gone through, who was apparently the most powerful of the two. Only the day before the little boy had sat in Severus’ garden and animated a number of coloured stones to dance around the heads of himself and his sister. The pebble circus had caused the toddlers to collapse in a fit of giggles at little Sev’s cleverness and Modia to beam with pride.

Hermia had named her son ‘Severus’, after him, even though it was Harry who had saved her life. Severus felt quite regretful about that, he would like to have known that there was another little Harry in the world, one that would likely get a better childhood than his own Harry had endured. But Severus was Hermia and Rufus’ Paterfamilias and it was traditional for families to name their eldest son after their patron. Besides, however fond of Harry they were, nobody was going to name their freeborn son after a slave.

Harry’s status as a slave was one reason that, happy though he was with Harry in their life together here, perhaps the boy was right to want to return home. It was a positive reason to leave, the only one which had occurred to Severus and he clung to it as if it were treasure untold. Harry was a very fine wizard; he was funny and bright and very, very powerful, but here in Ancient Rome, Harry could never be anything other than a freedman and he would always be seen as inferior to most of the population of Rome.

Severus did not doubt that their subterfuge had been necessary. He had acted on impulse and he truly had wanted to protect Harry, but in doing so he had saddled him with a persona that was sometimes difficult to deal with. Not that Harry ever complained.

Severus had woven all kinds of protection spells around Harry since the day he had been attacked by Devis Iulius Nocens. He had lodged a will with the Vestals ensuring that if anything happened to him Harry would inherit everything and would be as safe as Severus could make him.

But Harry wasn’t truly safe here, not really. Severus tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t safe anywhere else either. He also knew that, in his heart and in Harry’s, they really wanted to stay, because safe or not, this had become home to them – with friends to whom they were closer than any family either of them had ever had.

Harry was smiling, as he watched Apisus manage to produce a strong mist from the end of the wand they had made him. They’d obviously had no access to a wandmaker, so he and Harry had helped Apisus and Hermia to make their own. Both of the wands had a core made from slivers taken from a silver Sickle that had not been spent. Harry still had a small number left, even after Severus had appropriated a number with which to make the tongs. As they were Goblin made, they were very magical indeed - if prepared in the right way, of course.

Severus had infused them with a potion to expose the innate magic and prepared wands from olivewood taken from the tree in their garden. These wands were nothing like as sophisticated as Severus’ own, or even as Harry’s wand, which had apparently once belonged to Draco Malfoy. However they did work, albeit in a far more rudimentary way. Therefore the fact that Apisus was producing a corporeal mist as part of the Patronus charm was, in Severus’ opinion, phenomenal.

Perhaps it was the fact that Apisus lived with them that had so stimulated the growth in his magic? Most of the others seemed to have much enhanced healing skills, they were sick less often and got better far more quickly and Severus suspected that they would age far more slowly. The lack of suitable wands had not been a problem for them as they were only able to cast very simple spells anyway, but Hermia and Apisus were increasing in ability with each day that passed.

He didn’t want to spoil this afternoon. He wanted to watch Harry and Apisus and preserve this moment for all time. Harry was relaxed, he was happy. Apisus had blossomed under Harry’s ministrations.

Was he right to inform them of his success? It had seemed to Severus so many times in the past years that he was insane to pursue this spell. He wasn’t even sure that their world existed any longer. Who knew how far they had changed the timeline? When Harry had set free his magic perhaps he had destroyed the future as they knew it? There could be no assurances, there was simply no way to tell.

For a while he leaned on a pillar, just watching the boys interact, drinking in their happiness. Harry, the boy he loved beyond all reason, and Apisus who had also come to mean so much to him.

Since Apisus’ arrival, Severus had grown increasingly fond of the boy. For the first few months he had been almost completely silent around Severus, but he had blossomed under Harry’s care and support, and slowly but surely, a bright, brave and lively individual had made his place in their home. He quite simply adored Harry, that was obvious to anyone. Harry understood him at a very deep level, which, for awhile, raised warning bells for Severus. He didn’t understand how Harry could understand so well what the other boy had been through unless he had suffered something similar himself? Perhaps he worried unduly? Harry just had more empathy and compassion than anyone Severus had ever met?

It was apparent to Severus, as well as everyone else in their little community, that Apisus was not the slow-witted, lazy boy they had all thought him to be. With the improvement in his mental and physical living conditions Aps had blossomed. Harry had undertaken to teach his new friend a basic education. After 3½ years Apisus could read, write and calculate. He also knew a good bit about the history and politics of his time and demonstrated a good deal of intelligence and common sense. There was little resemblance left to the scrawny, frightened slave-boy who had come to their home so long ago. He had also reached his true height and gained a decent weight, actually maturing into a very attractive young man, indeed. Not that he appealed to Severus in any way, he only had eyes for one man and that was his lover, Harry Potter.


That was probably just as well. Severus doubted that Apisus would ever feel comfortable in a sexual relationship with another man anyway, even if Severus had wished to pursue one. He had been too badly abused and raped too often to allow male touches. He was only really comfortable being touched by Harry, although on occasion over the past couple of years he had allowed quick hugs from the twins and Severus, himself, which touched Severus more deeply than he could express.

Severus had promised him time and again, that he was safe in their home, that no one would ever use him again, that no one would have sex with him without his full consent. It had taken Apisus years to believe him, but he finally knew that he was safe with Severus and Harry.

Over the years he had become a part of their strange little family and Severus was deeply saddened by the realisation that they could not take him with them. He would be fine here, everything that Severus owned would belong to him. He would be well off, taken care of and he would not be alone. As it turned out, he was deeply in love with Modia’s sweet daughter, Virginia. These assurances, however, did not mean that Severus wouldn’t miss him or this place. He knew deep down that this little corner of Augustus’ Rome would always be special and that he had been happier during these four, short years than in the entirety of his life before.

Severus had arranged to free both the boys on Harry’s twenty-first birthday, and Modia had reluctantly agreed to let her daughter marry Apisus as a favour to Severus. However, it looked like the Roman boy wouldn’t have to wait until then, because Severus had done as he had promised Harry and found a way to send them back long before the proposed manumission date in July. Everything that they owned here in Rome would belong to Apisus. Their life here had been a good one, Apisus would be very well off indeed.

He didn’t want to share his news, he knew that the moment he told Harry what he had done, their happiness would be shattered. Harry would never be as carefree again, neither of them would.

So it was with a heart that felt like it had turned to lead that he finally gathered himself and walked into the sunshine of the March afternoon.

Both boys looked up as Severus came into the garden, but neither of them spoke.

“It’s done.” was all Severus needed to say. Harry paled and Apisus burst into tears.

Harry was standing in the dappled sunlight staring at him with horror. He had been kneeling beside Apisus when Severus had entered the garden, but he had stood at Severus’ words, on legs that seemed barely able to support him.

“Oh…” he whispered. Severus didn’t so much hear Harry speak as read the word on his lips.

“Could you go out for an hour or two, Apisus?” Severus asked the other boy.

Apisus nodded and left without saying anything, merely tapping his thigh to signal to Flea that it was time for a walk. The scruffy yellow dog ran after the tall auburn-haired figure, but Severus didn’t watch them leave. After the incident at the birth of Hermia’s twins, Harry had insisted on telling Apisus everything and he had never once betrayed their trust. He knew exactly what Severus had finally managed to do, and judging from the tears he was not even trying to hide, he was not terribly happy about it.

But his biggest concern at that moment was for Harry. Harry, who seemed bloodless, so pale had he become. Harry, who was trembling as if he had been plunged into ice water without warning.

“Are you alright, love?” Severus asked.

But it seemed that Harry could not even speak. Severus managed to cross the stretch of garden between them and catch the boy before he fell.

“We don’t have to do it, Harry. We could stay here, this is our home.” Severus said as he gathered the young man into his arms. But Harry didn’t even answer him, after all there was really no need. They’d had this discussion more times than Severus could count.

Neither Harry nor Severus really wanted to go back, why would they? Everything they could ever want was right here. But this was Harry’s choice. Harry worried about what was happening to those that were left somewhere in the far distant future. He could not forget the prophecy and his part in it and Severus knew that if they did not go back it would eat away at him, destroying him by degrees.

Long ago Severus had promised to protect Harry, to help him fulfil his destiny and destroy the creature that had killed Lily and condemned Harry to a lonely, bleak childhood. He hated it, he hated the cruel fate that had put them both in this position but, in truth, he had no option but to abide by that oath.

Yet he couldn’t resist trying one more time.

“Let’s stay, Harry. We don’t have to do this, for all we know our timeline doesn’t even exist anymore. The Dark Lord might never even have been born; we could have changed things that much whilst we were here.”

But Harry shook his head against Severus’ chest, where it was cradled.

“We have to go back.” The young man’s voice was broken and tremulous. Maybe he’d finally realised what he had asked for? Severus thought maybe he hadn’t fully understood before now what awaited him?

But Severus knew he was lying to himself. Harry had known all along, far more than Severus had believed him to know. The boy was trembling again, held tightly in Severus’ arms, trying to gather himself. Their time in Rome had been dangerous, frightening sometimes, for Harry at least, and lonely too, in the beginning. But it had also been very special. He had grown to know and respect and love Harry here in this primitive world. He had also fallen in love with Harry. But best of all, he knew that Harry felt the same about him. And now they had to go back and face Harry’s death and very probably his own.

Severus picked Harry up, scooped him into his arms as if he were still the man-child that he had been when they’d first arrived. He had stopped growing now, Severus thought. He would always be smaller and lighter than Severus was, smaller and lighter than his father had been, though whether that was because of Lily’s genes or the neglect that he had suffered as a child, Severus would never know.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered against Severus’ neck, his voice sounding sad and muffled, and Severus carried him to their room and held him tenderly until the shaking finally stopped.

Slowly, so slowly Harry began to kiss him. He caressed him, running his fingers along Severus’ jaw line. Each kiss became a little more urgent, a little more tinged with desperation and then he was pulling at Severus’ clothing, desperate, it seemed, to be touching more skin, to feel Severus against him.

“Please?” he begged. “Please, Domine? Please?”

Severus didn’t need to ask what Harry was asking for, he knew all too well. He kissed his boy back as urgently as Harry was kissing him. They didn’t have long left in this time; they may not even have very long to live and Harry didn’t want to waste a minute. They had first found comfort in Severus’ bed, in Severus’ arms, and it was where they always retreated.

~~Flashback~~

Severus still remembered his shock the day he realised that Harry knew he was a Horcrux. It had been in summer, the year before last. The evening had grown cool and they had retired to bed early, to make love.

Severus had known for a long time that it was likely Harry would have to die. He had never forgotten the shock when the realisation had dawned on him, how disgusted he had been with Albus – and he hadn’t even liked the boy then. Now, even the thought of the prophecy and what it promised for Harry was enough to make him sick.

“You raised him like a pig for the slaughter,” he had told Albus in disgust. He remembered his horror at what Albus had planned for Lily’s child, he remembered how he had distanced himself from Harry during his last term at Hogwarts, how he had told himself that Harry was not a worthy successor for his mother, marked as he was for certain death. Up to this point he had seen the old man as a mentor. However, since Albus had forced Severus into taking his life, made him an outcast and condemned Harry, he didn’t know how he felt about the man that he had once loved like a father.

Severus had suffered a lot to protect Harry over the years, and when he had found out that Albus believed and supported the supposition that Harry had to die in order to banish Voldemort he had been shocked and disgusted.

It had been bad enough knowing such things when he hated Harry Potter, but now such thoughts were unbearable. The young man was quite simply, the love of his life, and Severus did not want to lose him. This time, he promised himself, he would not live on alone.

He had kissed Harry’s scar on that summer evening and Harry had stopped him, awed. “Why did you do that, Domine?” he had wondered.

“Because it is part of you, Harry.” Severus had told him.

“It’s a Horcrux!” Harry had whispered, and then he had told Severus all that he had known about the prophecy and the inevitability of his own death. Stunned and horrified that his love knew all this, Severus had, nonetheless, held him close whilst he cried, unable to give any other comfort at all.

~~End Flashback~~

Harry had not shed a tear since that summer night, Severus thought he probably had none left.

Until now.

Harry’s kisses grew more frantic and, all at once, the boy was wet with tears. They streaked his face and lay damply on his chest and in his hair. Severus was frantic too, having no way of knowing what would happen when they got back (if they got back), or if they would ever have the chance to make love again. This might be all that he would have of Harry and he would not miss a second of it.

“In me! Now! Please!” Harry demanded from between clenched teeth, he was grabbing at Severus, trying to pull him closer. He canted his hips, wrapped a leg around Severus, whimpering with need. Severus Accioed the scented oil that he used with Harry. He had to slap the boy’s hands away whilst he prepared them both, as Harry was desperate it seemed to be as close to Severus as he could be.

“Please, Domine. Please.”

Severus didn’t think he had ever seen Harry as desperate as this, as needy for him. He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt like his heart was breaking.

Harry hissed through his still tightly clenched teeth when Severus entered him. His eyes were tight shut and his hands were grasping blindly at Severus’ back.

Their coupling was tinged with desperation, it was quick and frantic. Severus’ orgasm was violent and came quickly, mere seconds after Harry’s. Sated and trembling with emotion he collapsed forward on top of his lover. Harry didn’t speak and neither did Severus. What was there left to say that they hadn’t already said so many times before?

They lay together for a long time afterwards, Harry’s face close to his. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair wanting to touch him, wanting to reassure himself that Harry was still there, that he hadn’t lost him yet. Harry didn’t speak, he just stared sadly at nothing whilst he pressed his cheek against Severus’ shoulder and gently stroked his lover’s chest, making idle circles around Severus’ nipple. The boy’s face was wet with tears which Severus couldn’t understand, because, though Harry’s eyes were sad they were dry. Then he realised that Harry wasn’t crying – the tears on Harry’s cheeks were his own.


**********


Harry had gone to deliver his presents. There had still been a handful of Sickles and Knuts that they hadn’t spent and Harry had taken them to Septimus to have them made into tokens for each of his friends. He was currently somewhere in the warren of alleyways giving them out before they left.

Apisus was in the garden, sitting with his knees cuddled tight against his chest, the very essence of sadness. The shop was closed for the day.

“Are you nearly ready to go?” he asked softly as Severus sat down beside him.

“When Harry gets back. We’ll go then.”

“What will I do when you’ve gone?” Apisus said urgently. “ How will I manage without you?”

“You will manage,” Severus told him firmly. “You are one of the strongest young men that I have ever met, Apisus. You’ll continue to grow, you’ll marry Virginia and have a good life.”

Apisus wouldn’t look at him, he shook his head vigorously and Severus thought idly that his hair needed cutting and that he would have to tell Harry. Then he realised with a pang that it wasn’t up to him anymore, every decision, great or small, was up to Apisus now.

The boy beside him sobbed, a great wracking sob that seemed to come straight from his gut and without thinking about it Severus wrapped an arm around Apisus’ shoulders and pulled him into a hug. It was a testament to how close they had become that Apisus didn’t flinch or pull away and Severus felt a great sense of satisfaction that the boy trusted him so much.

“I won’t manage, I’ll miss you. It won’t be the same.” Apisus sobbed.

Severus was surprised that Apisus had any tears left, he had cried so much in the last few days. But he held him just the same. He had comforted Harry so many times that he knew what to do for Apisus without even having to think about it. He smoothed the boy’s hair and rubbed idle circles on his back and Apisus curled against him, just like Harry did. However, he felt wrong somehow in Severus’ arms, he was too big, too angular. He didn’t fit properly and Severus felt awkward, as if he were betraying Harry somehow. Not that Harry would have objected in any way, Severus just wasn’t used to hugging anyone but his lover.

The boy finally stopped crying, though he did let out a deep wavering sigh.

“I’d be dead now, if you and Harry hadn’t rescued me.” he said. “I used to hurt all the time and I felt so dirty. I never got time to wash, or keep clean and everyone thought I was stupid and worthless, and I was.”

“No you weren’t,” Severus said softly, stroking Apisus’ hair as he spoke. “You were brutalised, beaten down by fear and by what you had to do.”

Severus pretty much knew he would never have a son, but if he did he wanted one just like this boy. Apisus was the same age as Harry but they were very different in Severus’ eyes. Harry was his lover, his equal. In the last year he had far outstripped Severus magically. He now knew all that Severus could teach him about magic, both Dark and Light and conversely Severus knew all about Harry.

He knew what he was frightened of and what he liked best; he knew all about Harry’s deprived childhood and the abuse he had suffered; he knew about the things that had happened to him during the year he had spent on the run and how he felt about them. He also knew that Harry was the very essence of a hero, that he would never turn away from anyone who was depending on him. That was why they were trying to go back.

But Apisus was different, he was a normal human, albeit a magical one, like Severus knew himself to be. Apisus had been broken down by life, too, had been damaged and twisted until Harry had come to the rescue.

“You made me better,” Apisus said firmly, unknowingly echoing Severus’ thoughts. “You made my life worth living again, you and Harry.

“When I was taken as a slave, I thought that my life was over, and it was for a very long time.”

“I thought that you were born a slave, like Modia and Rufus and Hermia?” Severus said, questioningly.

Apisus shook his head. “My father was quite well born. His name was Marcus Antonius Apisus. His mother was the daughter of a freedman, she was called Fadia. His father, my grandfather, was a great general. Father was named after my grandfather. My grandmother always said that they were very happy, but she wasn’t important enough. My grandfather was ambitious and he fell in love with a great general called Gaius Julius Caeser, so, in order to progress politically, he divorced my grandmother and married again.

“He was always close to my father and my grandmother though, and he used to visit them often, especially when he was married to his second wife, Antonia, whom he didn’t like at all.

“Father was always close to his younger half-brother, Marcus Antonius Antyllus and we followed him around, my father was like a sort of secretary and aide to Antyllus. Marcus Antonius chose the name Antyllus, he liked nicknames for his children, he called my own father Albus, because his hair turned white before he was twenty-five, and he called Fabia, Faynia, because he said it sounded better, that it suited her because it was kinder somehow.

“When I was born I was named Albus Marcus Apisus: Albus after my father’ nickname, Marcus after my grandfather and Apisus after my grandmother’s second husband. He was a good man, so my father said, and he adopted my grandmother’s children, including my father and cared for them as if they were his own.”

“What happened to you, Apisus? Surely Augustus would not have enslaved you? He even spared Antonius’ children by Cleopatra,” Severus asked softly. He was shocked at the boy’s revelations. Apisus was the grandson of one of Rome’s greatest generals, a man who came from a prominent family. There should have been no way that such a close relative of the mighty Marcus Antonius could have ended up as a slave, never mind a whore in a cheap, shabby tavern. However he had no doubt that the boy was telling the truth.

“He was still Octavian then,” Apisus said simply, but not without a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “My uncle Antyllus was a fierce supporter of Marcus Antonius. He petitioned for him several times in the war between my grandfather and Octavian and finally, when Grandfather killed himself, Antyllus went to Octavian to beg for his life and that of my father, but the Emperor had him beheaded.

“He left my family to his soldiers.

“Mother killed herself and my sisters, but I was with my father, and the soldiers got to us before he could do anything.”

Apisus was hugging his knees close to his chest, staring ahead unseeingly, fixated not on what was around him but on the horrors of his past. His voice was so soft that Severus had to strain to hear him.

“He was a good man, my father, but he was a gentle one, too. I know that my grandfather loved him, but he did not have the soul of a soldier and he couldn’t bring himself to draw his sword on me. There was a big, burly centurion who commanded the soldiers. I have met many men like him since, but before then all the men I had known were gentle with me - he wasn’t gentle, none of them were.”

Apisus grew silent again. They sat for a while without speaking and Severus waited patiently for the boy to gather himself enough to continue.

“One of his men held me when he cut down my father, who begged for my life – he didn’t care about his own. He pleaded with them to spare me, to take me to my grandmother. They didn’t listen, they didn’t care. I was eleven-years-old and I was very pretty then.”

Apisus didn’t say anything else, but then he didn’t need to. Severus couldn’t speak either. He had pulled Apisus closer whilst the young man had been telling his story and the auburn head, with its shaggy curls, now rested on his shoulder. Severus wanted to hold him and never let him go. He could hardly bear to think of what the boy’s life had been like over the last nine years, of what he had been through.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s better now,” Apisus said.

They sat together for a long time, Severus listening to Apisus’ slow even breathing. Flea was curled in a patch of sunlight, yipping and twitching in her sleep. The little dog seemed so carefree and Severus knew without looking that Apisus was watching her too.

“I can’t believe that I am free,” commented Apisus, finally breaking the companionable silence. He was holding the scroll that Severus had given him that morning. It evidenced his manumission and it seemed as if he could never let it go.

“You are though,” Severus replied, unnecessarily. He sat up straighter as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “What is your name? Have you taken the name Severus or Hispanicus?”

Apisus bit his lip and looked away. “Apisus?”

“Um…I’m sorry, Domine, erm…I haven’t taken either.”

He was blushing, a deep brick red. “Harry thought it would be alright if I went back to my birth name, as you are going away. It just felt right somehow, like being me again, like remembering my father. I am sorry, Domine, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Severus felt a frisson of guilt, if this boy wanted to keep his father’s name, who was Severus to stop him?

“That’s all right, child,” he said, “and you don’t need to call me Domine any longer, call me Severus now.”

“Thank you… Severus,” Apisus whispered seriously.

Severus thought that Apisus’ smile was one of the sweetest that he had ever seen.

“Did you see what Harry gave me?” Apisus held up his gift for Severus to see.

Severus smiled at the boy and examined the trinket that Apisus was holding up for him to see. It was a bee, exquisitely wrought from one of the silver Sickles that Harry had kept.

“My Patronus is a bee. I managed one yesterday. My Patronus and my name. I can feel the magic in it. Isn’t it beautiful?” Apisus held it up to the light where it fluttered and buzzed in the sunshine, animated by a charm, provided by Harry.

“It really is,” Severus told him, “and so are you. I am very pleased to have known you Albus Marcus Apisus.” Apisus smiled shyly.

“You will make a wonderful husband for Virginia. She is very lucky to have you… Um…Modia will be impressed when she hears your name, when she knows whose grandchild you are.”

Apisus’ smile widened, revealing a dimple in one cheek that Severus had never really noticed before.

“What?” Severus half laughed, delighted to see the sparkle in Apisus’ eyes.

“Modia already knows. Harry told her, that’s why she agreed to let Virginia marry me.”

**********

Severus could not believe that it was finally time to leave. With all the research he had done into how it worked, how he might get them back to their own time again, it seemed like this day would never come. He still couldn’t understand how sometimes things seemed to take such a very long time – when he had to be nice to some of their more odious customers, for example. Yet now, when he didn’t want to leave, when he wanted to stay here with Harry and not have to face a murderous, torturing madman, time had never seemed to pass so quickly.

They decided they should leave from exactly the same place at which they had arrived. The alley seemed smaller somehow and very cramped. Later in the year the beaten earth would turn to dust and the bougainvillea would bloom vigorously, sprawling over the ramshackle balconies, almost seeming to keep the flimsy buildings standing.

All of Modia’s family were there to say goodbye. It seemed bizarre somehow that he and Harry had become part of them, both supporting and being supported by them. Strange that the two of them had come so far to find home. For a short time most of them had taken Severus’ name, as their Paterfamilias, though it had not lasted long. Hispanicus was not a name for Roman citizens Modia had told him. Romans only liked their citizens to be named after a country if they had played their part in conquering it. So the name had become altered, not by Modia or her children but by their neighbours and friends.

When the Romans had conquered Spain, the clans who had fought the hardest had earned themselves a nickname after the sly, clever little creatures that were used for catching rats in a city the size of Rome. The Romans respected a determined, resourceful enemy and most Spaniards were given the nickname that Severus had been made aware of only recently. That name was acceptable, it seemed. So Modia’s family earned the cognomen Mustelus, which Severus couldn’t help but think, suited them rather well, they were resourceful and resilient and somehow always managed to survive. Just like the creature that they were named for, just like the weasel.

At last Harry came running over his rucksack bouncing on his back. He was a little distressed and his eyes were tinged with red. He had said his goodbyes it seemed and was ready to leave. He wrapped a slim, brown arm around Severus’ waist and buried his head against Severus’ shoulder as he often did when he was seeking comfort.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Severus asked, hoping that it wasn’t more than sadness at leaving their pseudo family.

“Flea is missing,” Harry said. “I can’t find her and I wanted to say goodbye one last time.”

“Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll look after Flea for you.” Hermia called, overhearing his words.

“She is probably hunting rats or something, she’ll be fine, she is a tough little thing.” Severus said.

He’d decided not to tell Harry that he had transfigured the little dog, although he had told Modia in order that she could tell the others so they wouldn’t worry about what had happened to Flea. She meant so much to the boy and he had no real idea if she would make it back with them unharmed. He had no idea whether they would remain unharmed, come to that! If they made it back safely, if they hadn’t changed the timeline beyond all recognition, then he would turn the dog from the smooth yellow pebble she was currently transfigured to be, back into the bouncy yellow dog that was her usual form. And if she didn’t make it? Well, then Harry would never know, he would, instead, be able to picture her happily chasing around the alleyways in which she had been born, looked after by the ever growing Mustelus family.

Hermia hugged him and Severus’ eyes prickled and his throat felt dry. It had been hot hadn’t it? Maybe Rome was dustier than was usual for the time of year? Why else would his eyes be filling with tears? Hermia placed a kiss upon his cheek.

The tavern, the wine shop and the little shop that sold novelties and toys had thrived in the past few years. Severus’ potions business now belonged to Apisus, who would soon become Modia’s son-in-law. The matron had done well in the four years since she had helped them find shelter and build a home.

“Good luck, Severus. Good luck, Harry. May the great God Jupiter protect you and carry you safely home.” Modia spoke first, but her words were echoed by her husband and her children, numbering two more now, since she had purchased her two eldest sons from slavery the year before. Only one child remained a slave and he was a clerk to a senator, a position that seemed to suit him well. Severus had only met him once and thought him far too full of his own superiority. He didn’t know what he was missing.

Finally, Severus produced the Crux Temporis, made from Harry’s broken watch, and created using the Tempus Potion. It had taken him a year and a half to research it and two more to finalize it using the bric-a-brac Harry had brought from the Rome of the late 1990s. Their journey was almost over – but what awaited them at the other end?

He laced his fingers with Harry’s so that his right hand held Harry’s left, then he took the Crux Temporis out of his pocket. He held it in front of them, took a deep breath and looked down at the boy pressed close against him. Harry was biting his bottom lip, looking worried, anxious – as well he might, Severus thought.

His green eyes were clouded with worry.

“It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” Severus told him.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, the worry wrinkle that creased his forehead being chased away by a weak, watery smile.

“I love you, too.” Severus whispered back.

Harry placed his hand on the battered watch that Severus had transformed into the device that would take them home. The young man swallowed deeply, and at that moment Severus knew exactly what Harry was feeling. The wrist-watch seemed cheap and insubstantial. It was difficult to trust something which appeared to be so flimsy and he knew that Harry despised Portkeys – hardly surprising considering the experience he had suffered during the Tri-wizard Tournament. Severus squeezed his hand gently to comfort him and Harry moved closer so that he was leaning against Severus’ torso.

Together they said the spell that would take them away…would hopefully take them home.

“Tempus Fugit Praeterhac”

Immediately it was as if someone had taken all the air away and Severus struggled to breathe. The world began to spin madly around them, a dervish of colour and light and madness as if they had fallen into a tempest. He could feel Harry’s warmth against him, and Harry’s hand clasped in his own. But they were the only things he could feel. Everything else was fleeting, insubstantial… and then everything went black and for what seemed like forever, Severus felt nothing at all.

**********

Story notes

Marcus Antonius Antyllus – really did exist, he was the son of Mark Antony and he was indeed killed by Augustus, just as Apisus described.

Fabia was Mark Antony’s first wife and not much is known about her.

Mustelus – weasel

Apis (Apisus) - bee