“You're improving a lot,” Sirius commented as he and Harry stepped through the french doors the next day, soaking wet. Water was dripping onto the floor, leaving a track of where they had been walking. “You just have to keep on trying not to drown.”

“I can't help it,” Harry answered, frowning. He wiped his wet face with his hand, although that didn't do much good, considering his hand was wet, as well. “I just can't swim.”

“That's what I'm trying to help you with,” Sirius pointed out. He followed Harry up the stairs. “When you kick with your feet, you keep your arms still.”

Harry blushed, walking into his room as he tried to peel his shirt off. “I know that. I tried using my arms, but then I'd stop kicking my feet. You won't give up on me, will you? I will get better soon, I hope,” Harry added, though he wasn't quite sure of that.

Sirius grinned. “I'd never give up on you. Meet me downstairs after you get dressed, I'll make us drinks. We can go see Dumbledore later today, too, to see if anything else came up.”

“All right,” Harry agreed, quickly adding before Sirius left to go change, himself, “We still have a little of the those umbrellas left over from Padfoot's Place, right?”

Sirius couldn't help but laugh. That's what they had been calling the 'Nameless' restaurant, ever since they had eaten there. Padfoot's Place.

“I think we do. You want one in your drink?”

Harry nodded eagerly. Sirius had been making his drink—the lemonade with the cherry that he'd always put at the bottom, and recently they had purchased little umbrellas that Sirius would now put in the drink too—a lot lately, though Harry wasn't complaining. He liked it.

After changing into dry clothes, Harry went back down the steps to see Sirius in the dining area with two drinks in his hand.

“I put them in the wineglasses again just to be fancy again,” Sirius explained. “Would you mind getting those umbrellas from the lounge, Harry?”

Harry agreed, though he was only expecting to find the umbrellas—never was he expecting to find Severus, as well.

--

So it had been a mere flashback that Snape from this reality had shared with Severus—though it was not willing, Severus found, after consulting with Dumbledore. He said that, as long as both Severus's were in the same reality, that several flashbacks would be shared between them until one of them was transported back to Severus's own reality.

Severus wasn't quite sure why this would happen, however. It didn't happen with Harry, did it? He soon realized that Harry didn't go through the things that he was going through. How could it? In this case, there were two Severus's—in Harry's case, there was only one Harry.

Because his Harry was gone. If Harry hadn't died, and the other Harry stumbled across the realities just so, then Severus imagined that both Harry's would be enduring flashbacks, just as he was now, and etcetera.

As both Snape's were telling Dumbledore about what happened the previous night, that's when it happened. That's when one of the Snape's doubled over, letting out a gasp of pain, jerking backwards by an invisible force.

And then Severus Snape crumpled to the floor—although, as he went down, he seemed to disappear into the floor.

Severus Snape was gone, whisked away to the alternate reality.

There was just one slight problem…

--

“Severus!” Harry yelled, standing frozen in the doorway of his lounge.

Severus Snape stood up, seeming rather shaky as he was in the midst of gathering himself up off the floor. Harry surprised himself by running over and wrapping his arms around the professors' waist.

“Where did you go?” Harry asked, though his voice was muffled by the potions master's robes, and wasn't sure that the question was even heard. “We just came home and you were… gone.”

Harry looked up to find the adult staring back down, an unknown emotion crossing his face. Harry frowned, his arms still around Severus's waist. The Potions Master had a different scent, Harry realized.

“Snape.”

Harry dropped his arms and turned around, to see Sirius standing in the doorway. A look of shock was placed on his face. Then, it changed to anger.

“Where have you been?” He growled, stepping forward. “How many days have you been away, exactly? I eventually lost count—and where did you go?”

“Black,” came the reply, full of anger and loathing. It surprised Harry.

Snape stepped in front of Harry, and at first, Harry thought it was out of protection—and then Harry realized it was because he merely wanted Harry out of his way.

“What are you doing here?” Snape snarled, looking around. “Where am I?”

Sirius frowned, glancing over at Harry. “Harry, I think—I think he has amnesia.”

“I have no such thing!” Snape roared, taking a threatening step forward. Sirius automatically stepped back. “You should be locked away, rotting in Azkaban, Black. It's where you belong. Why are you here?”

Then, Snape turned on Harry.

“Who are you?”

“He's your son,” Sirius said tentatively from the doorway. He was looking at Snape suspiciously.

Harry gulped, trying to find his voice. There was something familiar. Very, very familiar…

Then Snape's eyes immediately went to Harry's forehead, where his eyes narrowed. “Potter,” he said, curling his lip. He curtly explained at Harry's surprised look. “Your scar, and your voice, of course. What did you do to your appearance, Potter?”

Harry's hand immediately went to his mouth. He hadn't realized, that even though he had a different body; a different look—that there were still traces of his own voice from his reality. He hadn't actually noticed that before. Harry listened to his voice more closely as he spoke again.

“What's going on? Severus… what—?” Then Harry paused. He stepped away from Snape, walking backwards towards Sirius in the doorway. “Professor Snape.”

Snape scowled. “I want this resolved, now. I do not want to be stuck in this… absurd…”

“Where's Severus?” Harry spoke after returning to Sirius's side. “Is he back… in my reality, s—sir?”

Sirius seemed to understand what happened, or at least had a vague idea. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Snape glowered at them both.

“I should go tell Dumbledore what happened,” Sirius said softly, more to Harry than to Snape, who still stood by the couch with a disgusted look on his face. “Do you want to come with me, Harry?”

“I—I'll stay here,” Harry answered, casting an uncertain look at Snape.

Sirius hesitated. “Are you sure?” At Harry's nod, Sirius added to Snape, “If you hurt him, or even just look at him, I swear—”

Snape scowled. “I wouldn't touch a hair on Potter's head. His current head, at least,” he spat.

“His name is Harry,” Sirius snarled, looking as if he was about to lunge at the Potions Master. He seemed to be fighting that urge, and very reluctantly, he said to Harry, “I'll be as quick as I can. Are you sure you don't want to come with me, Harry?”

“I'm sure,” Harry said, though he began to wonder if he should've accepted Sirius's offer.

--

“It's the other Severus Snape, Headmaster,” Severus said after Snape had disappeared. “This Severus Snape.”

Dumbledore looked concerned as he stared at the spot that Snape had stood. He folded his hands onto his desk.

“We need to find how you ended up here, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “So we can reverse whatever happened. However, since we don't know how this happened, it will only make this complicated, and will take time.”

Severus sighed, frustrated with himself. If he only could remember what he did. Nothing was becoming clearer to him; it was all still so foggy.

“Although this means that there won't be another flashback, correct?” Severus asked.

“There is, now, no other mind that yields those memories to be able to share them with you anymore. All we have to worry about is getting the right Severus back in the right reality.”

--

“I can show you where your room is,” Harry offered meekly.

Harry realized now that he should've went with Sirius to see Dumbledore. He couldn't stand being alone in the same house with Snape—it was too awkward and uncomfortable. For the past five minutes, ever since Sirius had reluctantly left Harry, Harry sat on the couch while Snape paced the room in complete silence.

This had been the first time either spoke.

Snape, however, didn't say anything, but Harry stood up and began to walk to the staircase anyway. He glanced quickly behind his shoulder to see, after a few seconds of staying in the lounge, Snape started to follow Harry.

“So, Potter,” he sneered, walking up the stairs. “How did you come to this… reality? I have to say, I am not surprised that you're famous here, just as you are back in our reality.”

Harry didn't turn around as he walked down the corridor and past “his” own room.

“I don't remember, sir,” Harry said, answering Snape's first question, after really thinking about it. He didn't like the fact that Snape had just assumed that he was famous, without actually knowing. Although, he was… that just wasn't Harry's point. “I think that's because I hit my head, though.”

“You are not the only one that has no memory of what occurred,” Snape said briefly.

“You mean Severus doesn't remember, either?” Harry asked, glancing up at Snape.

He didn't reply, though, so Harry let it go.

Then the two arrived at Severus's room. Harry hadn't been in this room ever, since he arrived. He wasn't surprised to find that most of the colors in the room were green or silver. Along the dresser, Harry spotted several hand-made cards that, with each one, the drawings seemed to get a little more neater.

Most of the cards proclaimed 'Happy Birthday Dad!', Harry noticed as he hesitantly stepped into the room. There was also a stack of papers near the edge of the dresser. Harry didn't know what the others were of, but the one that sat on the top had several colorful circles decorating the paper; Harry wasn't sure whether it was an actual drawing or just scribbles.

At the bottom right-hand corner, Harry saw his name, printed too neatly for the picture above. He assumed that either Sirius or Severus had wrote the name.

Behind Harry, Snape made a noise as he, too, must have noticed the cards and drawings. Harry sighed, turning around and walking out of the room.

“I'll be downstairs,” Harry said out loud, though he knew that Snape didn't really care where he was.

Harry was curious as to why Severus and that Snape seemed to have switched places—but, before he would ask Snape anything, he'd wait until Sirius came back home. He'd feel more comfortable that way.

--

Sirius stepped out of the fireplace, standing in the lounge whilst his eyes searched the manor suspiciously. The house was too quiet. Where was Snape and Harry? Sirius had expected Harry to be waiting in the lounge, but by the looks of it, it was empty.

“Harry?” Sirius called out, walking past the couch and out of the room. As he walked through the foyer, he peered into the dining area to see if Harry was sitting at the dining table. There was nobody there, so clearly, he wasn't.

“Harry?” Sirius tried again, stopping as he walked through the corridor, reaching the stairs that went to the floor downstairs, where Severus's study was. “Harry, are you down there?”

“Sirius?”

Sirius whirled around at the voice. Harry stood behind him, looking confused.

“Sirius, what are you doing?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I was looking for you,” Sirius replied. “Where were you?”

“In the kitchen,” came the reply. “I think Snape's upstairs. I'm glad you're back though; Nome was starting to look at me funny.”

Sirius laughed. “It's probably just because you look like this Harry, and you're… back. Snape—this Snape—must've told Nome not to say anything about your reappearance.” Sirius's eyebrows knit together, looking thoughtful. “Would you… like to see something, Harry?”

“What is it?” Harry asked warily.

“Follow me,” Sirius said, motioning for Harry to follow him down the steps.

--

“I've always liked it down here,” Sirius said as he lead Harry through the corridor. There were about two rooms down here that Harry knew of: Severus's study and another room—but that room would always have the door shut, so Harry never knew what it was.

Sirius seemed to notice Harry's stare at the door, and paused on his way by it, nearly causing Harry to collide into him.

“Would you like to see what's in here, Harry?” he questioned.

Harry hesitated, glancing up at Sirius. “Could I?”

“Of course,” Sirius replied, reaching out to twist the doorknob. “You and I—this used to be our place. Whenever Snape would be in his study, we would always come here and… do whatever, really.”

Sirius opened the door, revealing a fairly large room that was filled with lots of Muggle things. Hanging from the ceiling was a disco ball, and lots of streamers and ribbons that would change their color every so often were scattered around the room, as well. There was a television in the corner, and a stack of movies nearby. The walls were splattered with different colors: purples, blues, and reds.

“You and I made this room,” Sirius said. “I forget how old you were. You needed some sort of entertainment, though, so that's when we decided to make this room. We have lots of board games in that cupboard over there. I tried to make Snape play one time, but no matter what, he wouldn't. The only time he did, was once, and… well… you ended up making him play—he looked as if he was being tortured, honestly.”

Harry tried to imagine Severus playing a board game, but found he couldn't.

“This isn't what I wanted to show you, though,” Sirius said, tugging on Harry's elbow gently.

Harry stepped out of the room; Sirius pulled the door shut and started to lead Harry towards Severus's study.

“What are we doing here?” Harry asked, glancing around the room furtively after Sirius opened the door.

Sirius walked over to Severus's desk and stood by something that sat there, though Harry wasn't sure what it was. Sirius soon answered Harry's question when he announced, however, that it was “Snape's Pensieve.”

“What's a Pensieve?” Harry asked slowly, warily stepping towards Sirius.

“Snape's memories are in here,” Sirius answered. “I think they're just memories of this Harry; I remember him telling me that Snape let him look at it one time. I just thought you might like to see… I don't know… memories? Besides, I mean, I'm sure Snape wouldn't mind…”

Harry tilted his head to the side as he stared at the Pensieve. Should he? Sure, he'd like to see those memories, at least a few of them—but at the moment, he felt like he shouldn't be here, in Severus's study. If Severus found out, even though Sirius was with him (though what difference would that make?), wouldn't he get angry?

“A—all right,” Harry agreed hesitantly. “What do I do?”

“Just come forward,” Sirius said, motioning Harry forward. He ended up almost dunking his head into the strange substance that was inside before he was thrown forward, falling headfirst into the stone basin…

--

“Too high, Siri!” A young Harry squealed, kicking his feet as he was slowly lifted off the ground. He clung onto the small handle of the broom for dear life, while Sirius stood beside Harry with his hands around his waist, steadying him so he wouldn't fall.

“You're not too high,” Sirius answered gently, giving Harry an encouraging smile. “See? I've got you. You won't fall.”

The older Harry looked around, to see where he was. He seemed to be in the backyard of the manor, perhaps, with Sirius and a younger version of this Harry? This must've been the memory that Sirius and Severus had once talked about, Harry realized, about the broom incident.

“Siri,” the Harry on the broom whined, looking down at the ground in terror. “Y—you won't let me fall, right Siri?”

“Of course not,” Sirius answered. “This is your first time on a broom by yourself, Harry! What do you think?”

“I like it when you or Daddy are with me,” Harry said in a small voice, his knuckles turning white. Harry watched as the younger Harry relaxed his hands a little, but still looked nervous. “What if I fall and break every bone, Siri?”

“You won't,” Sirius promised. “Oh, Harry, hold on a minute, don't move. I just need to get this watch… it keeps falling…”

Harry giggled. “Watches don't like you much, Siri.”

“Hey, kid, that's not true!” Sirius slowly pulled his hands off Harry's waist. “It just so happens that certain watches do like me.”

“Be quick, Siri!” Harry said, a hint of panic in his voice. “I'm gonna—Siri! SIRI!”

Harry, who was watching a few feet away, instinctively dashed forward as the younger Harry wobbled, but he couldn't do anything. It was like he was a mere ghost.

“Harry!”

Sirius immediately stood up as the younger Harry now hung upside down on his broom, looking absolutely terrified. Harry let go, falling to the ground with a thud.

The “older” Harry winced, but the younger Harry wasn't up in the air very high, so he had a short fall.

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius murmured, squatting down to help Harry up. Harry was sniffling, trying to hold back his tears, though it looked like he wasn't too successful.

“I hurt my arm,” Harry said softly as a a few tears fell from his eyes. “See, Siri?”

“At least it's not broken,” Sirius said, examining Harry's arm, where a bruise began to form. “It's only a bruise. Do you want me to get you a drink, kiddo?”

Harry wiped his eyes with his arm, letting Sirius help him stand up. “With extra, extra two cherries?”

“How about three cherries?” Sirius said, kissing the top of Harry's head affectionately. “I'm sorry that I let you go, Harry.”

“It's not your fault,” Harry said, following Sirius into the house.

The older Harry followed behind the two, beginning to wonder why he was watching this memory. After all, Sirius had said that they were Severus's memories—but, Severus wasn't here… was he?

As Harry went past the dining area, a movement caught his eye. It seemed that both Sirius and the younger Harry hadn't noticed. Harry had a feeling, though, that it might just have been Severus…

How else could he be seeing this memory, since it was Severus's memory?

“I should get four cherries,” Harry was saying to Sirius as he followed the adult into the kitchen.

The older Harry was right, however, as he noticed that Severus was now following closely behind the two, keeping quiet. Sirius and Harry were oblivious to the presence.

“You should get four cherries too, Siri! Do we have any lemonade left? Hi, Nome!”

“Can Nome get good sirs something?” Nome squeaked as Sirius and Harry entered the kitchen. Severus stayed behind, standing by the door, still quiet.

“No thanks, Nome,” Harry replied with a smile. He jumped up onto the stool, letting his elbows rest on the counter. “Siri's gonna make drinks! See what I did to my arm, Nome? It's bruised.”

“And just how, exactly, did you manage to bruise your arm, Harry?”

Severus stepped into the kitchen, nearly colliding into the older Harry, who was standing near the doorway, watching what was happening. Although, he couldn't collide into Harry—he could just merely pass through.

The younger Harry jumped off the stool at his father's voice, his eyes growing slightly larger.

“Hi Daddy,” Harry said timidly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Siri was getting drinks, did you want one?”

“I'm quite fine, thank you,” Severus answered, stepping toward Harry, who immediately took a step back and ended up bumping into the stool behind him.

Severus frowned. “Stand still, Harry. I'm just going to look at your arm.”

Harry swallowed, holding his arm out to his father, who took it gently in his hand and studied the bruise. Lightly, he touched it.

“Does it hurt?” Severus questioned softly.

Harry shook his head no. “Not very much.”

Severus lifted his eyes off of Harry, letting them drift towards Sirius, who was looking rather guilty.

“I told you, Black, not to let Harry on that broom until I was finished!” Severus wasn't looking too happy at that moment. “Were you incapable of hearing, or did you just choose to ignore me? I knew that you would take your eyes off Harry, and he'd end up getting hurt.”

“Daddy, it's not Siri's fault!” Harry interrupted quickly, pulling on Severus's robes.

Severus looked down at the boy, who motioned for him to bend down to Harry's own height. When he did, Harry took his hands and cupped Severus's cheeks, staring at Severus intently.

“S—Siri didn't let me go on my broom,” Harry said softly. “I tripped in—in the fo…foy… foray. That's how I bruised myself. Don't yell at Siri… it's my fault.”

Severus took Harry's hands in his own, taking them off his cheeks and lowering them. He searched Harry's eyes silently before he spoke.

“You're lying to me, Harry. What did I tell you about lying?”

Harry lowered his eyes, staring at the ground as he mumbled something incoherent. It was when Severus had asked Harry to speak up when the memory suddenly shifted into another one, and Harry found himself outside, with lots of people walking through him, while others passed by him without a glance.

Harry had forgot the fact that nobody could see him.

“I don't wanna go!”

Harry, looking no more than five or six—maybe even four—stood in front of Sirius and Severus with a rucksack in his hands. He glanced nervously back at the building behind him, and then back up at the two adults.

“Harry, you have to,” Sirius said gently. “Don't you want to make friends and learn things?”

“I can do that at home!” Harry folded his arms across his chest and pouted. “With you and Daddy.”

“Harry.” Severus's voice was gentle, but his gaze was firm. “You're brave; you're a big boy. You can do this. I know you can. It will be different at first, but you'll get used to it.”

Harry's eyes drifted towards the ground, and he shuffled his feet, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

“I'll miss you,” Harry murmured, glancing back up nervously. “And the school is too ginormous and—and—” Then Harry sighed in defeat. “And I'll go.”

“That's my boy!” Sirius said brightly, ruffling Harry's hair. “We'll see you at lunch, and you can tell us how your first day at school went. Sound good? I'll even have one of my special drinks that you like waiting for you.”

Harry's eyes brightened as he smiled. “Really? Okay!” He looked up at Severus, tilting his head. “I love you Daddy. Give me a lot of luck.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Severus said softly. “Go be brave, and have fun.”

Harry nodded, looking up at Sirius. “I love you too, Padfoot.”

“Right back atcha, kiddo,” Sirius said, smiling down at Harry. “Make lots of friends and—” Sirius looked at Severus, who was giving Sirius a look of his own. “And… don't… get into any trouble.”

Harry grinned, though he still looked nervous. “I won't. Bye.”

As the younger version of Harry began to hesitantly walk towards the school, Sirius let out a sigh and said quietly to Severus, “Can't we keep him home longer? I mean…”

“He needs an actual education and friends as well, Black,” Severus started, but he was cut off by Sirius.

“I know, but Malfoy's kid always comes around though—isn't that enough? Besides, we can teach him things, too! At home, where he's not away from us.”

“Black—”

Sirius, however, interrupted. “I know! I know. Even if he's going to come home at lunch, I'm still going to miss him.”

There was a moment of silence from Severus, before he said in a soft, agreeable voice, “I know.”

Then the memory shifted, and Harry found himself in a place that he actually recognized: Hogwarts. Then, he saw Severus and an older Harry, probably around eleven, walking down the corridor. Harry had to walk quickly behind them to keep up.

“I'm not telling you again, Harry,” Severus said, looking annoyed. “Just leave this alone, it does not concern you!”

“I know,” Harry said, frowning. “I know it doesn't, Dad…”

Severus stopped in his tracks, spinning to the side to look at his son, who, startled, stumbled back. He fixed Harry with a piercing stare.

“If you get yourself involved in this,” he said, barely above a whisper—his voice made Harry's own skin get covered in a rash of goosebumps, “you're only going to get hurt, and the last thing I want is for my son to get hurt. I know this conversation is means nothing to you, Harry, and you'll ignore every word I'm saying to you—but don't. If you have the slightest bit of respect for me, Harry, you'll listen.”

“I do respect you!” Harry argued, the frown returning to his face as he stood a little bit straighter. “And I am listening. This conversation does mean something, Dad… but I'm not going to get hurt.”

Severus grabbed onto Harry's shoulders, staring into his eyes intently. Harry squirmed, trying to get out of his father's grip, but it didn't do any good. Severus still held on tightly.

“You will leave this…” Severus's voice dropped until only the boy in front of him could hear, so Harry had to step a little closer in order to hear what was being said. “Stone alone, do you understand? If you disobey me Harry, I swear to Merlin that you will be grounded until you're thirty—perhaps even longer.”

Harry swallowed, looking nervous. Severus let go.

“I just want you to be safe,” Severus said softly, after a few minutes of silence. “That's all.”

Harry nodded his head, slowly walking away from Severus. “I know. Goodnight, Dad. I love you.”

The feeling Harry had now, though, wasn't of the memory shifting into another memory. Instead, he was being pulled out of the memory, he realized.

“Harry?”

Harry pressed his hand to his head, blinking his eyes a few times as he became adjusted to where he was: back in Severus's study, with Sirius standing by the desk.

“Are you OK?” Sirius continued, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

“I'm fine,” Harry answered. “I—”

Harry paused, squinting at the floor. Severus's study was neat and tidy: every book had a place on the bookshelf, every paper sat in a neat stack on the desk. The floor was spotless, so this was how it had caught Harry's eye so easily.

It lay on the floor by the leg of the desk. A crumpled piece of white paper. For some reason, it was familiar to Harry—like he'd seen it somewhere before. Not just that it was a piece of paper, but there was just… something about it…

“Are you sure you're all right, Harry?” Sirius asked tentatively, staring at Harry oddly.

“Sirius,” Harry said softly, bending down to pick the paper up. “Look at this.”

Harry unfolded the paper, his eyes skimming over the words that were rather foreign to him.

And then he remembered what he had once forgot. The paper he had found on the street while walking through Privet Drive—this paper. How he had read the words out loud, and then tossed the paper away. This was how he ended up in this reality. This paper…

He remembered.