The young man, his skin still white like porcelain and his eyes that same shade of black, the familiar hooked nose, bowed to look at young hands. It was the same Snape, just that he was less mean and old; the former forty something year old professor was also passable for handsome. The horror and disbelief that struck him was mingled with some strange joy. The old lines in his face where he seemed ancient had smoothed out, like a Muggle iron had stretched out all the creases of past.
Standing to his full height, Severus Snape continued to survey his hands, soft and warm. There was life in him again. For the first time in the entire six and a bit years that Harry Potter had known and loathed the man, the young Gryffindor saw Snape smile.
With a slight frown, Harry backed away, half expecting Snape to jinx him into oblivion for causing the slip to happen in the first place. The potions master turned and looked at the faces, Slytherins and Gryffindors surrounding him. One face he was seeking out.
“Potter!” He growled, his straight pearly white teeth (quite different from the usual crooked yellow ones Harry was used to) set in a perfectly charming smile...
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