TITLE: “The Next World”

AUTHOR: The Wandmaker

RATING: R

PAIRING: HP/SS, minor HP/GW

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other mentioned characters are the creation of J.K. Rowling.

BETA: Joshie

ARCHIVE: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm

JUNE 2001...

“Die already, you insane, insufferable HAG!”

Such were the last words Bellatrix Lestrange would ever hear before her entire existence was obliterated in a blinding green flash. As far as death cries went, it wasn't his most witty, but after two hours worth of leisurely Crucios by a rather pissed-off Dark Lord, Severus Snape was no longer at his sparkling, acerbic best. The point was that he'd finally Avada'd the irritating bitch.

A quick check around the fallen Death Eaters, ascertained just how well things were currently going for the Forces of the Light.

The merry (albeit briefly) widower, Rudolfus Lestrange, blasted into eternity by an astonishingly calm Neville Longbottom.

Walden MacNair, reduced to a pulpy, gelatinous mass, courtesy of an anonymous Cutting curse. Talk about poetic justice.

The sneer on Lucius Malfoy's face looked far less imposing on a head separated from its body. Severus was rather impressed with little Miss Weasley's handiwork there.

In fact, it appeared that the entire Who's Who of Dark Minions lay quite recently deceased on the bloody battlefield outside Hogwarts.

Fenrir Greyback. Check.

Evan Rosier. Check.

Goyle Senior. Check.

Crabbe Senior. Check.

Cornelius Fudge. Check.

Apparently, the only Death Eater still standing was the Chairman of the Board, himself. And at the moment, Voldemort was barely holding his own.

The Potter boy had a wand to his scaly throat, and the two were spitting and hissing like the enraged snakes they were.

Hold that. Potter was spitting and hissing. The Dark Lord was squeaking. And choking. And disintegrating into ashes.

Potter fell to his knees in stunned disbelief and began to cry. For once in his life, Snape felt a strange stirring of sympathy for the green-eyed Gryffindor. At long last, it was over. Years of suffering, of secrets, of humiliation and sacrifice.

“He's really dead,” the boy finally whispered and glanced up at Severus.

“Yes, Potter,” Snape nodded. “Time to start living.”

“Living,” came the half-sobbed agreement, “whatever that means.

The sad truth was, neither The Boy Who Lived nor Severus had any idea what that meant. Their lives had been on hold for what seemed forever. Potter had never been given a chance to really experience anything but life's privations and injustices. Severus had stopped living the day he'd left Hogwarts at the age of seventeen.

The first thing he was going to do was get laid. Well, right after he had a drink and wiped the blood and brain fragments off his battle robes. He gave a cynical laugh. That's how he'd known for sure that the snake-eyed bastard was truly dead. A rare, little-known side effect of his Dark Mark was the total suppression of all sexual desire.

Now his senses were humming. Amidst the carnage of the last terrible battle, he felt the stirrings of something alien yet familiar. He really needed to get some. He wondered how much it how many galleons it would cost him to find a marginally un-repulsive and willing partner. Severus gave a bitter sigh. Ugly, broken-down former Death Eaters had to pay for their pleasures, unlike –

“Harry!” screeched the youngest Weasley, as she bounded up to her hero and jumped into his waiting arms, wrapping those endless skinny legs around Potter's waist.

Right. What was that again? Oh, unlike the Boy Who-Was-Currently-Being-Dry-Humped-For-All-He-Was-Worth, Severus Snape certainly wasn't going to get any for free.

The only consolation was that little Ginevra Weasley would most likely spend the rest of her life fending off scores of obsessed witches and wizards who would be panting after the gorgeous and deliciously sexy Mr. Potter.

WHAT THE HELL DID HE JUST SAY??

“Are you alright, Professor?” Potter's sweet, rough voice was filled with concern.

NO. HE DIDN'T JUST THINK THAT!

He liked Potter! He thought Potter was sexy, gorgeous and had a sweet voice. That was what the Dark Mark had suppressed all these years? Merlin's Balls, his life was so over! Wherever James Potter and the Mutt were right now, they must be having eternity's biggest laugh.

“Professor?” Potter exclaimed again, his deepening worry quite evident. Adorable!

SWEET MERLIN, JUST KILL ME NOW!

And it suddenly all too much. ‘I can't be here! I don't want to be here! I don't want to feel these things! Shit, I'd rather be dead than humiliate myself like this!' His knees buckled and he was falling, falling.

“No, Professor! Not in Voldemort's ashes!”

Severus hit the hard ground and something thin and pointy crumpled into his back. Um, no! That “thing” was shriveled even before Potter's final spell.

Wand. He'd just crushed Old Snakeface's wand. Lovely.

“For Gods sake, somebody get Poppy!”

Well. Wasn't that the cherry on top of the cake of his day? Dying in a powdery pile of Dark Lord detritus.

Ah, the irony! After all the years of suffering Crucios and ducking Avada Kedavras, it had come down to this.

Oddly enough, Severus welcomed death now. It wasn't as if he had anything left to look forward to. He was ready. Ready for the next world. What was that old wizard adage again? “In the next world, I find peace!”

A comforting thought, that. He was so tired, so ready for peace. “In alius spatium, transfero mundus, transfero vita” Severus gave a soft whisper. “In another place, the next world, the next life.” It was the closest thing to a prayer he had ever uttered.

So, was this what dying felt like? The flickers of stray magic shooting through his body? Almost alive. Almost like a spell. A spell?

OH. CRAP.

The fucking wand! Voldemort's still vibrated with frissons of forgotten power. What the bloody hell had he done?

THE WIZARD WAS DEAD, NOT THE WAND!

Something brighter now. Something dazzling and golden and white and blue at the same time, as if hundreds of precious stones had exploded in his eyes. He felt the pull of something and suddenly he was falling and falling. And then everything went black.

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

SEPTEMBER 1999...

The students and staff of Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry were enjoying their usual sumptuous dinner repast when the ceiling of the Great Hall suddenly erupted in a crash of thunder and lightning. As hundreds of startled eyes gazed upwards, the ceiling seemed to crack open and a man came tumbling out. Tumbling in a sort of freefall. On a rainbow. Riding a freaking rainbow.

Transfiguration Professor, Sirius Black, gaped in amazement.

History of Magic Professor, Remus Lupin, merely gawked.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Harry Potter's jaw dropped to the floor.

After a few paralyzing moments, the three professors rose from their seats at the head table, and rushed over to the motionless body. It lay face down on the hard stone floor, draped in what appeared to be full battle robes bearing the symbol of a Phoenix. The robes were streaked with blood, gore and a strange kind of ash.

It was Remus who gently rolled the unconscious stranger over to reveal his face. There was a collective gasp of disbelief.

Although battered and bloody, the face was unmistakable. It belonged to a man who had been dead for nearly twenty years – Severus Snape, Martyr of the Light and beloved Fourth Marauder.

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

Severus became vaguely aware of agitated voices on the edge of his consciousness. They sounded vaguely familiar.

“Aw, c'mon, Madame P! We wanna talk to him!”

“He's still unconscious, Mr. Black. I'll not have you disrupting the poor dear's sleep!”

“Okay, what if we don't say anything? What if we just SIT here?”

“What haven't I made clear, Mr. Black? Can't you see how close he came to death? I've never seen anyone survive under Crucio for that long!

Had she just called a man “Mr. Black?” Severus wondered. Yes, he'd heard right.

“I'm gonna sit here as quiet as a mouse til my best buddy wakes up! So there!”

Sirius Black? Here? Oh, right, Severus remembered. He was dead, after all. You met everybody once you were dead.

But what was that again? What had the irritating mutt just called him? “My best buddy?”

Severus groaned. The answer was too bloody obvious. He was in Hell.

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

After all was said and done, it was Albus Dumbledore who finally explained the situation to Severus: He was alive but in some kind of alternate universe.

“From what I heard of your, shall we say, rather colorful delirium, you apparently cast an Alius Spatium. And oh, I understand from your ramblings that I am dead in your world? Ooh, I simply must know how I died! Wait! don't tell me yet! Let's save the fascinating tale for a cold winter night!”

Okay, so the Headmaster was a little loony in both universes.

Still, once Severus had accepted the truth of what had occurred, he stoically resigned himself to his new fate. He was now a permanent resident in an alternate world. A world where Severus Snape had died a hero at the age of twenty-one and been posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.

Through Albus, and some the other Snape's old pensieves, Severus was quickly able to piece together the facts that separated the two realities from each other. Apparently, the divergence point had occurred his very first time on the Hogwarts Express.

He recalled very little about that day, except for the fact that his mother had almost been knocked over by a baggage trolley, and she'd spent a seeming eternity berating some hapless muggle oaf.

What a relief it had been to finally ditch the old shrew on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He'd had the good fortune to pass an open compartment door and been greeted in a very friendly fashion by Lucius Malfoy. The ride up to school had been a delightful blur, where he'd been charmed and welcomed by the cream of Slytherin's elite.

His counterpart in this world had arrived at Kings Cross Station a mere thirty seconds earlier. The unfortunate trolley incident had, therefore, been avoided – along with the shrill, drawn-out harangue from his mother. The Severus of this world boarded the train a full five minutes sooner. This time he was able to overhear Lucius Malfoy drawl on about being under orders to be nice to “that hideous little half-blood Snape, whenever he finally got his scrawny arse on the train.”

His alternate self had been so stunned and humiliated that he turned hastily down the corridor and ran smack into Remus Lupin. The two painfully shy eleven year-olds had immediately hit it off. Not long afterwards, James Potter and Sirius Black had blundered into their compartment bearing chocolate frogs and Droobles Best. By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Severus had three new friends. In this universe, he didn't argue when the Sorting Hat tried to place him in Gryffindor.

How odd is destiny and luck. Just five minutes changed the course of so many lives. It was Severus, not Peter Pettigrew who became the fourth Marauder. That despicable traitor was consigned to the periphery of Gryffindor, never even considered as more than a house acquaintance.

As a result, Pettigrew never learned to become a rat animagus. He certainly was never close enough to the Potters to become their Secret Keeper.

It was Snape, so loved and trusted by Lily and James, who kept the secret under the Fidelius charm. It was Snape, who after endless hours of unbearable torture, still could not be broken. Marauder Snape, true to the end, died refusing to reveal the hiding place of baby Harry and his parents.

How odd it was to be revered and fawned over by a sentimental Black and weepy Lupin.

It had been virtually impossible to convince the idiot mutt and his pet werewolf that he was a completely different Severus Snape. The two showed up in the infirmary at every available class break.

“Ah, Sevvie! The Marauders are back!”

“I'm not your bloody Sevvie!” he growled, for the ten thousandth time.

Remus sighed. “We know that. We love you, anyway.”

“Yeah,” nodded the mutt. “Deep down, you're the different same person we grew up with.”

“Don't confuse him, Siri,” said a familiar voice.

Harry Potter showed up in the infirmary at the same time every afternoon. He'd quietly ask Severus if he could read to him from the latest issue of The Daily Prophet.

The handsome young man was a bit different in this world. Even though this was two years in the past, Potter seemed far older. More serious and quiet than his other-world counterpart.

The other Potter had been placed with his repulsive Muggle relatives at the age of fifteen months. Despite all their random acts of cruelty and coldness, the boy could not remember his other life. He couldn't regret what he didn't know. There was no bitter recollection of a loving mother and father...of toys and hugs and comforts and Christmas.

No, it had been far worse. Disastrous, really. The betrayal at Godric's Hollow had never happened. Potter had spent another four blissful years growing up with two doting parents, and a pair of affectionate, fun-loving godfathers.

Four years of no activity on the part of Voldemort had deliberately lulled the Order of the Phoenix into a false sense of safety. The Dark Lord had patiently bided his time, even feeding rumors of his own demise. It was all deliberate – waiting for the Potters to come out of hiding.

In the end, all it took was the polyjuiced Lestranges to impersonate Remus and Sirius. Voldemort murdered James and Lily, and sent the deadly green curse at a screaming five year-old Harry.

The Ministry made a botch of things, of course. They sent Black and Lupin to Azkaban without a trial.

Dumbledore botched things, as well. He sent a traumatized toddler to the worst place possible. Number 4 Privet Drive was a cruel mockery of Harry's previously happy life. His parent's murder still a fresh horror. No Uncles Padfoot and Moony to hug him and tell him things will be alright. It would be only after two dreadful years at the hands of the Dursleys, that a newly-pardoned Lupin and Black were able to rescue their little Prongs his nightmare on Privet Drive. But the damage had already been done.

Harry Potter was a terrified child, torn away from a loving family and cruelly tossed into a filthy, spider-infested cupboard. A devastating change of his world.

As a 15 month-old, Harry grew up believing it was “normal” to live in a cupboard. He didn't remember loving parents or affectionate Marauders. But in this alternate existence, it was far more scarring and destructive to be plunged into a hostile, loveless environment.

Ironically, this Potter ending up killing Voldemort after the Triwizard Tournament during his fourth year.

So now, here stood young Harry, gazing at Severus Snape with worshipful green eyes. “I...I could bring you something else to read if you'd rather,” he murmured tentatively.

The twinge in Snape's groin grew steadily stronger. Good Lord, the sexy little brat had a bloody crush on him! He wasn't imagining things. In this universe, Harry Potter was gay! And if the boy continued to stare at him like he were some kind of delicious confection, Severus was going to forget he was still weakened from all the spell damage, and just pounce on the lovely creature!

“...magazines, perhaps?”

Severus sighed. “I wouldn't mind the latest issue of Potions Monthly.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Potions? Really?”

“I am a potions master, after all,” Snape rolled his eyes, “what else would I read?”

Potter's eyes goggled. “You teach potions? Where?”

“Hogwarts, where else?” Ah. Apparently, that had been another difference between the two worlds. His other self had lost interest in potions after befriending the Marauders. That Severus had taken his mastery in Transfiguration.

“For how long?”

Severus paused for a moment, willing himself to stop enjoying a glimpse of Potter's jeans clinging to his slender hips when his teaching robes fell open. “Fifteen years.”

“Wow, and to think nobody here has ever held the position for more than a year!”

“What?”

“People say it's cursed.

“Ah.”

“Yeah, we've never had a decent professor yet for that subject. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in Dumbledore's mind when he hires those idiots.”

Severus gave a thoughtful pause. “So who prepares Lupin's wolfsbane?”

“His what?”

“Oh, you've got to be joking.” There was no wolfsbane in this dimension? Of course not! Severus had been the one to develop it. His other self had preferred to master Transfiguration, instead. Snape tried to imagine life for Lupin without the special draught to ease his painful monthly transformations and subdue his inner animal.

“So, this wolfsbane is a good thing?”

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

In short order, Severus Snape found himself at his old job in a new universe. When Dumbledore had learned of his potions background, he was hired immediately. He was once again, Potions Master of Hogwarts. Although the wizarding world at large was aware that this was a different Severus, the fact was that a Snape was a Snape. Besides, he was the famed inventor of the werewolf wonder drug. Students giggled in nervous awe, and others almost swooned whenever he entered the classroom, his robe billowing.

“The position is cursed, you know,” observed Lupin.

“You're telling me,” Snape muttered grumpily.

In less than two months, he was feeling like his old pre-Crucio self again. The only difference was...oh, hell, there were many differences. Voldemort was dead. Black was alive and president of the Severus Snape Fan Club. His wolfsbane potion had made a new man out of Lupin. He was losing his haggard look, and was pathetically grateful.

Snape really didn't have the heart to despise either of the remaining Marauders any longer. After all, how long can you resent people who genuinely adore you and always bring gifts of fine Scotch and chocolates to your rooms?

So life became more pleasant than he ever believed possible. Yet, there remained “The Harry Problem.” The gorgeous man could barely keep his eyes off him at the staff table during meals. By now, the entire school was aware that Harry Potter had a mad crush on the Potions Master. But Severus still couldn't believe such a thing were possible. It had to be his imagination.

And one evening, over a game of muggle poker, it was Black who brought up a rather delicate subject.

“So when are you going to do something about Harry?”

“I'm not going to do anything,” Snape glared.

“Ooh, the glare! It's classic!”

“Don't mock me, you mutt! I'm far too old for him.”

Black rolled his eyes. “You're scared shitless, aren't you?”

“Quite.” Yes, scared shitless, indeed. “I won't make a fool of myself over a boy half my age.”

“Sevvie, you friggin' moron. The kid's been in love with you since you got here. He believes you're his destined soulmate, and that's why you came in the first place – to set things right.”

“Set what right?”

“All the bloody things that went wrong when your other self saved him and his parents. Can you imagine the guilt Harry felt knowing that a good man sacrificed his life for him? When you arrived in the Great Hall, on that bloody rainbow, he believed the universe was giving him a second chance to be happy. I've seen the way you sneak little glances at each other. Just let yourself be happy.”

“You sound like a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“Up yours, Snape.” Black finished his cocoa and rose cheerfully from the staffroom table. “Harry is waiting in your rooms.”

“What??”

“Yeah, Moony and I said you wanted to speak with him after he finished up with a couple of student detentions. Damn snotty Ravenclaw seventh years.”

Harry. Waiting in his rooms. Alone. Oh, Merlin!

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

Potter stood stoically at the entrance to his chambers. Next to him was a stone bowl. It was Snape's pensieve. Dumbledore had given it to him a week after his arrival to preserve thoughts of his old world.

The young man's face looked as if it were about to crumple. “I looked.”

“Of course.”

“You left it out for me to find!”

“Not exactly...but it seems like a good idea now.”

Potter shook his head. “In the other world, the way you treated that other Harry. You hated him.”

“Yes.”

“And you wanted me to know this. Why?”

“So that you cease this ludicrous hero worship and see me as I am. I was a Death Eater once!”

“Yes, I saw that, too. I saw a lot of things-”

Snape gave an involuntary shudder.

“-but I'm not going anywhere, Severus.” For the first time, Harry moved towards him...actually wrapping his arms around the older man's neck.

Snape shuddered at the close contact. The boy's body was hard and warm and just perfect.

“I'm not that other Harry, and you're a different Severus. So what?”

Like the water in a weakened dam finally bursting free, the Potions Master gave a broken growl and clasped his companion's waist tightly. “Harry, I-“ Bloody hell. How could Severus tell him? Nobody knew. Ever. It had been his own humiliating secret. He'd never touched. Not really. Severus Snape had never done anything of a remotely sexual nature with anyone. Even himself.

“So what?” came another rough whisper. “I've never done anything, either. “Yes, Sev...I know what you were about to say.” There was a harsh sob. “I may have sent Voldemort and a dozen Death Eaters to hell, but since I was five years old, nobody's even hugged me except Moony and Padfoot. And later on, I didn't really want to even, you know. All people want is the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, not just Harry.”

“I want you, Harry.” Snape was amazed at how easy the confession was. And a moment later, even more amazed by how easy it was to kiss that perfect mouth. And how effortlessly two tongues could search and taste without ever being taught.

It was as if part of them had been asleep but now had awakened. Instinctively, their bodies knew just what to do. Lips, hands everywhere. Touching, tasting, unbuttoning...

And then, they were in the bedroom, rubbing against each other urgently. Bare skin to bare skin. Erections moving together. Hot. Moist. Sweat. Slick.

There was love and trust and the joy of discovery. Severus didn't need any previous experience to tell him where to guide his throbbing ache.

Harry didn't need anyone to tell him that it felt even more exquisite when he wrapped his thighs around Sev's waist – as his new lover plunged into his tight heat.

“Mine!” Snape growled against his neck. ”Mine!” He reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around Harry.

“Gods, yes!” It was enough to finally push Harry over the edge.

Seconds later, Severus roared to completion. “Five thousand points to Gryffindor!”

Moments later, after sinking back limply into the mattress, the two lay quiescent in each others' embrace. Neither could believe the depths of pleasure they had just experienced. How could such joy and satisfaction exist in a world that had brought them both such pain and grief.

“I love you, Harry.” Severus was amazed at how easily the words came now. Words he had never spoken to another human being.

“I love you, Sev,” came the sleepy reply. “But-“

“There is no ‘but,' you delicious little brat.”

“Um, actually...about those five thousand points to Gryffindor?”

Severus began to nibble on his young lover's ear. “What, not enough points for you? I'll make it Six thousand points to Gryffindor.”

“Slytherin, actually.”

WHAT? WHAT??

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

The End