Chapter 2

"I see our illustrious Mr. Potter is awake again," A familiar voice said and Harry, still bleary-eyed looked towards his right to see the Potions Master sitting in a chair near his bed with a thick tome on his lap.

"Uhwa..." Harry uttered, brain fog still very much prevalent. It had been years since he'd gotten this good or this much sleep and by Merlin was he going to savor it.

"Eloquent as always Potter," Snape closed his tome before standing up and yanking away the blanket covering Harry.

"Oye," Harry exclaimed as he tried to work his limbs to cover himself.

"Don't be such a prude. Who do you think put you in that hospital gown," Snape retorted.

"I was hoping for that to stay a mystery, to be honest," Harry blushed.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, confused as Snape promptly uncorked a bottle and poured some of the liquid on his hands before massaging Harry's legs. Harry nearly moaned at the sensation. Nearly three decades without a human's touch and now this. Snape was going to kill him before Voldemort could at this rate.

"Your limbs are severely atrophied, Potter. This potion will help you regain muscle mass over the coming days." the potions master explained. "It would have been easier if you had your own magic to work with but the Headmaster insists that you not have access to your powers until you acquiesce to his demands."

"Fat lot of chance that will happen," Harry hissed as Snape rubbed a particularly sore spot. "You would have a better chance of me doing the hula for you in nothing but a hula skirt than the Headmaster getting his way."

Snape stopped his ministrations and stared at Harry for what was a good minute before shaking his head and continuing.

"What?" Harry questioned. "Wait, did you actually imagine me in just a hula skirt?"

"No," Snape muttered though he very much did but that wasn't what had been churning in his mind.

"You are... very different from the Potter I knew," Snape confessed.

"I would hope so. I can't be 82 stuck in the body of a 21-year-old, imprisoned for close to 30 years and still act like a 14-year-old."

"15-year-old," Snape corrected. "Your counterpart passed away a week after his birthday.... And wait... what do you mean you are 82?!"

"Should I add the 30 to the 82?" Harry mussed.

"Potter what do you mean by 82?!" Snape reiterated.

"Well hello, my boy," the irksome happy greeting from the last person Harry wanted to see filled the room stopping all previous conversations. In truth, Harry had been contemplating just how much to actually tell Snape as he didn't know if this reality's Snape would report back to the Headmaster.

"I am not your boy Dumbledore." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Didn't Professor McGonagall tell you that I said to go choke on a Lemondrop?"

"Minerva made her views on the matter quite clear," The Headmaster said tersely. "However, I must insist that you take the place of our Mr. Potter and fulfill the prophecy. We simply have no other option. You wouldn't want your friends to die, right Harry?"

"I would say screw you but your wrinkly arse doesn't do it for me," Harry growled.

"Albus, it's already late in the evening. Perhaps now isn't the right time to antagonize Mr. Potter. Any more stress would be a setback in his healing." Severus stated stoically as he looked between the unperturbed Headmaster and the young man who would have probably fed the man his own beard if he could move his limbs properly.

The Headmaster was still for a moment before nodding. "Very well, I shall drop by tomorrow," He told the duo.

"I would rather you didn't," Harry hissed.

"You should not antagonize him, Potter," Snape warned. "The Headmaster is not as benevolent as he seems. He will very likely not ask again and simply force you,"

Harry blinked while his mouth opened and closed, unable to form coherent words. When he finally did all he could ask was "Are you sure you're Snape and not some weird alien bodysnatcher? The Snape I knew would never..."

"Potter, I am for all intended purposes not the Snape you knew,"

"But you're supposed to be Dumbledore's man!" Harry insisted.

"I was until my usefulness ran out," Snape shot back and stood up.

"Wait... what?" Harry was now so confused.

"Tomorrow, I will tell you what you wish to know about this reality as long as you tell me what you meant by 82 years old." The Potions Master stated.

"You're evil Snape, Evil!" Harry groaned. "You're actually going to make me wait until tomorrow?!"

"I'm simply a Slytherin Mr. Potter and the ointment's drowsiness properties should be kicking in within the next few minutes," Snape replied before he left the heavy tome on the nightstand and walked out, leaving a soon-to-be snoring Harry alone in the Hospital wing.