RETURN TO SENDER

A/N: As always, all characters and people that look familiar are the property of their owners ... plus I solemnly swear that no actors or actresses were hurt in the preparation of this tale. Without further ado ...

Chapter Fifteen. Of Asses and Quirks

This was easily the worst day of Severus Snape's life. And for someone whose memories of a 'good day' were vague and far between, that was really saying something. But then again, Severus had come to expect each day was going to be a bad day – and things always turned out that way.

It started at breakfast in the Great Hall – full of boisterous, energetic, rowdy students, still pumped at the demise of the Dark Lord, only three days past. The positive energies were such that even the Acting Headmistress' announcement of classes resuming seemed to have no effect – in fact, it seemed the students were looking forward to it!

Except for a few scattered groups, individuals or pairs – and Severus cringed as he realized that not everyone was celebrating …

Voldemort had his followers and committed fanatics, as well as the opportunists who flocked to his banner because of the smell of power and payback and the usual hangers-on and sycophants who wanted to run with the big bad wolf – and they were definitely not happy now.

They were destined to rule and they acted like it – strutting around the castle; verbally and physically bullying other students when out of sight of teachers or portraits; using their family's names and 'connections' to inflate already bloated egos, secure in the knowledge that the big bad wolf was backing them – and the bleating sheep made way for them.

But now the wicked witch was dead … the big bad wolf was gone … and the cowering sheep were baring their teeth and finding their balls.

Literally overnight, the tormented found liberation – and would be looking for payback. It hadn't happened yet – the sheep were still drunk at their 'victory' but it would happen. Especially if you mixed Gryffindors and Slytherins in a literally explosive class like Potions …

He'd raised his concerns with McGonagall – and gawked when she didn't fob him off with some blather, a twinkling of the eyes and the offer of a lemon drop.

She immediately called for a staff meeting where she laid out his concerns; thankfully, the others were on the ball and the staff focused on what they could do to alleviate the issue.

The answer was – not much.

They were too few, too busy, the castle too large and the students too numerous for the staff to adequately supervise or watch all the time. They had a measure of control in their classrooms, dormitories and the Great Hall – everywhere else was open season for the ballsy sheep and de-balled wolves to taunt each other or worse.

The portraits and ghosts could keep an eye on things – but what could they do when words were not enough and the spells started flying? Bringing in Aurors was out – not only were they still busy with the fallout of Voldemort's disappearance, there was no assurance that the Aurors (many of whom had been on the frontlines) wouldn't indulge in some payback of their own.

In the end, they had no real choice – they filed out of the meeting with the Headmistress' admonition of "Constant Vigilance!" ringing in their ears.

And of course, like a snot-nosed firstie, he'd allowed himself to be distracted.

Rather than roaming the potions stations keeping an eye on things, he was standing behind his desk at the front of the class, mourning the loss of Lily and pondering his future without Dumbledore's protection when it happened.

A pebble was thrown at a bubbling potion that was at its most volatile – and he was out of place, out of time and out of luck to do something …

His last clear thought as he was pulled through a thin, thin tube in a sensation so like yet unlike apparition was "At least I'll get to see Lily again."

But of course he wouldn't be so lucky – the first thing he saw when the nausea and disorientation passed was the messy hair, round glasses and shocked face of his least favourite person – well, slightly below both Voldemort and Dumbledore at least.

Recognition set in and he was MOVING – wand out and up in his preferred duelling stance, screaming "WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!" – words eerily echoed by the hated wizard in front of him, standing there like a rube complete with open, slack jawed mouth …

And then things got even worse.

He'd imagined this scene countless times, both when she was alive and the many hours since he'd learned of her passing.

She'd be running towards him with arms outstretched, the wind blowing her fiery hair from her face, green eyes and lips smiling as she approached … she'd slam into him like a red-haired torpedo before giving him the biggest, most rib-crushing hug he could ever imagine …

But not this – oh no, never like this.

His enchantress stood between him and Potter – fists on her hips, emerald eyes blazing and red hair blowing in the sulphur-tinged hair, shouting in a voice and manner that eerily reminded him of his mother: "ALBERT SEVERUS SNAPE! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?"

He didn't think he could sink any lower but the ordeal wasn't over as Potter shouted exuberantly, "ALBERT? ALBERT SEVERUS SNAPE?" James Potter was on the verge of hysterical laughter as he continued, "You mean to say your initials are exactly what I've been calling you all these years, an A-S –"

He would have sent a killing curse right then but couldn't, not with Lily in front of the berk – and almost dropped his wand when a harsh voice erupted, "JAMES TIBERIUS POTTER! I'll nae ha' anyone bein' insulted in my presence! Apologize – NOW!"

Snape could only gape as he thought, 'McGonagall? What's she doing here?' but found his brain stop at Lily's shocked, incredulous voice: "TIBERIUS? You said your middle name's Timothy!"

James Potter's appalled face at McGonagall's use of his full name struck Snape's funny bone and he sniggered but Lily's astonished words triggered a memory that wiped any questions about McGonagall's presence here – where ever 'here' was – out of his mind.

'This was rich,' he thought as an insane grin came on his face, 'a chance to redress the balance, payback on an epic scale but it had to be done right.'

"TIBERIUS?" He asked in mock incredulity before turning to a still-gaping Lily with a sneer, "At least you got your dream man, Lily …"

Her eyes narrowed to slits of emerald fire but this was just way too good to pass up and he continued in a shrill, little girl's voice, mimicking a nine-year old Lily Evans: "When I grow up, I'll marry Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Starship Enterprise."

He blinked when sniggers and outright laughter greeted him. Spinning around, he gawped at the sight of his fifth year potions class of Gryffindors and Slytherins standing around in singed robes, along with several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in torn, dusty robes – and he bit his lip, hard, even as he screwed his eyes shut as he realized what his lapse had cost …

An amused voice calling out, "Really, Lily?" had him spinning around and gawking at the sight of a petite blonde bombshell wearing a rather skimpy attire that had McGonagall's lips in a thin, stern line while the male students had eyes nearly popping as she approached. The blonde, who was slightly smaller than Lily but at least several stone heavier (mostly toned muscles on a lean frame) continued in a droll voice, "You do know that Jim Kirk and Spock are in a relationship?"

"WHAT?" The outraged scream was torn from Snape's throat – Spock, his idol, the character he'd consciously emulated, the man he'd wanted to be with his stoic demeanour and controlled emotions, his mastery of the mind arts and combat skills, his reverence for logic in a highly-emotional world, was … was …

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "You could ask them but I think they're off-planet on some mission or other …"

"Bu-bu-bu…"

"Of course," the blonde said dismissively, "that could very well be some tripe spread around by the Gossip Kings and Queens of the multi-verse …"

McGonagall's icy burr interrupted her, "Be that as it may, young lady, but may I ask WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

The sheer shock of McGonagall swearing was diminished by the sound of a 'pop' – followed by surprised gasps at the appearance of a bewildered and disoriented Filius Flitwick who looked around wildly before gaping at the gathered crowd …

"I can answer that." The calm, commanding voice came from a tall, toned, dark-haired woman in leathers with a sword on her back and a silvery disk on her belt that appeared seemingly from nowhere; incongruously she was holding what looked like an obsidian clipboard in one hand. She silently handed the clipboard to the blonde bombshell as her eyes swept the crowd, focusing on the Gryffindors and Slytherins before flicking momentarily to Snape as she said, "As some of you know, there was a potions accident …"

Her icy glare cut off the derisive snorts, focusing especially on a pair of Gryffindors – a slim, black-haired boy of medium height and blue eyes and a tall, lanky redhead with a freckled, confused face as she continued, "… caused by some dunderheads who thought it would be a wonderful prank to ruin a rival's potion, either not knowing or even not caring" – her steely blue eyes shifted to three Slytherins standing together: two huge boys flanking a snooty, sneering boy with silvery-blonde hair who was glaring at the Gryffindor pair – "that they were brewing a highly sensitive, potentially explosive potion."

She paused at another 'pop' and shook her head at the appearance of another Hufflepuff before continuing. "The explosion destroyed the potions laboratory" – she nodded at a fuming Severus Snape – "including the Acting Headmistress who was monitoring the class …"

"I was in my animagus form, Severus," McGonagall said when Snape's eyes snapped to her. "Given your concerns" – Snape nodded – "I wanted to be sure nae a thin' would happen."

She paused to glare at the sneering blonde Slytherin. "I saw someone tossin' a pebble and was changin' forms when …"

She grabbed a red-faced Filius Flitwick who looked ready to disembowel someone with his bare hands, allowing the dark haired woman to continue, "The dungeon's walls contained the blast but directed it to the ceiling – destroying the Charms classroom above …"

McGonagall interrupted her. "Survivors?"

It was the short blonde who answered as she looked up from the clipboard in her hands – "None. While some survived the initial explosion," she nodded towards the 'late' arrivals, "they soon expired from inhaling the fumes."

She checked the clipboard, "The last one should be arriving about now."

"DANIEL JACOB RADCLIFFE!"

The crowd scattered as a girl of slim build and medium height, with a glorious mane of frizzy brown hair, wearing dusty Ravenclaw robes and carrying a heavy book under one arm, barrelled straight for the dark-haired Gryffindor that Xena had been glaring at earlier: "I DON'T BELIEVE THIS! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? NO – DON'T ANSWER THAT! IT'S OBVIOUS YOU WEREN'T THINKING! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TRY PRANKS IN POTIONS? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? HOW THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO PREPARE FOR OUR OWLS IF WE'RE DEAD? YOU'RE LUCKY WE'RE DEAD AND NOT EXPELLED …"

The adults were awestruck at the rant that was delivered seemingly without drawing breath. The brown-haired Ravenclaw was about to launch into another tirade when a snide, malicious voice yelled, "WAY TO GO, WATSON! THAT'S TELLING 'EM!"

With a speed and grace that spoke of either ballet or martial arts training, the young Ravenclaw spun and hurled her book with unerring accuracy and devastating force at the silvery-blonde Slytherin taunting her. The book slammed right between the latter's eyes, knocking him flat as she roared, "SHUT IT, FENTON – KNOWING YOU, YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS!"

She glared at the fallen Slytherin for a second before adding, "AND DON'T CALL ME WATSON!"

The girl called Watson faced the now-smirking Daniel Radcliffe and glared – the latter cringed, bracing himself for Part II of a lecture he may – or may not have – deserved.

She didn't hear Xena's admiring voice murmuring, "That's … impressive."

Gabrielle shook her head as she stared at the raging brunette: "That's … eerie."

A spark of comprehension flared in Xena's eyes and she nodded at her partner in sudden understanding, "Unnerving."

"Frightening," Gabrielle added.

"Scary," was the reverent whisper of Severus Snape.

"Worse than Lily on a rampage, I say," said an awed James Potter.

"Agreed."

James Potter and Severus Snape stared at each other, shocked at finding something they both agreed on. Their eyes – black and stormy, hazel and confused – locked for a long, silent moment …

They both loved Lily deeply, passionately in their own ways – but at this moment, they both wondered whether life as a Tibetan monk would be preferable to the daily tension of life with a volatile, explosive, scary Lily.

It was Severus Snape who blinked. It was in the other man's eyes – James Potter was prepared, perhaps even relished, the idea of having an unpredictable, fickle and capricious Lily at his side … in their past life, in this life or the next.

The man was a brash, arrogant berk – but he knew what he wanted and was willing to sacrifice, compromise just to have Lily Evans by his side.

While he, Albert Severus Snape, never would.

He may have loved Lily Evans deeply, with a passion approaching obsession – but here, in the harsh and unforgiving light of the mythical Hades, had to admit that he didn't love her enough to change for her.

He'd held on to the arrogance and conceit that was his armour against all those who'd looked down on him, especially the big-headed Potter and his sidekick Black. He'd lashed out at every jeer and taunt, to which the Marauders gleefully retaliated, escalating their rivalry until it came to a head in their fifth year –

It was his arrogance and wounded pride that lashed out when Lily defended him for the last time, destroying that singular friendship that had been the single bright spot of his miserable life to that point …

And he knew that Lily had seen right through him when he'd tried begging for forgiveness – he was doing it for himself, as a means to hold on to the only thing that had been good in his life …

It was never for her.

It was always for him.

"Severus?"

He shook his thoughts off and turned – straight into the concerned blue eyes of Minerva McGonagall and he slumped. She'd done her best by him, he knew – even when he was a student and she was the indomitable Head of the hated Gryffindors. She had been scrupulously fair, even in those days – never assigning detentions or taking points from him or his mates unless warranted or after investigation … and he'd dealt with her with the same arrogance and pride that eventually led to his breach with Lily.

Even now, when she was looking at him in concern, his first gut reaction was to reject her – to sneer and turn away, to tell her to look after her snivelling lions … and found that he could not. She'd always done her best by them, all of them – even now, in this strange place and the whole of Hogwarts' fifth years around them, her concern was for the one who was truly hurting.

He tried to smile, to assure her that he was fine but he could not – it was obvious in her eyes and expression that she understood and for that he was grateful. It may go against his nature to admit weakness but –

He heard a gasp and a shocked, "What in Zeus' name …" Looking around, he noted that a now-crying Miss Watson was being comforted by Mr Radcliffe – and he sighed. He had never done that with Lily … he'd had opportunities before but had always held off, preferring to hold himself above such displays in his conceit …

And gaped at a huge, blue motor home that he would have sworn wasn't there minutes before. There were people in denims scurrying around it, setting up tables, chairs and umbrellas with some sort of corporate logo on them …

"Is that – ?" It was the blonde, he realized, and he turned a curious eye on her and the tall woman beside her. The latter was grinning as she replied, "It's not doing anything in Miami, my Queen … so I thought I'd borrow it for a bit."

The blonde rolled her eyes in seeming exasperation. "Admit it, Xe – you just want a beer."

The taller woman's grin merely widened. "True, my Queen …" She turned to glance at Snape and McGonagall as she continued, "Although I'll wager that the Headmistress is in need of a wee dram herself."

The small blonde sighed and nodded. Turning to the professors, she addressed them, "Headmistress McGonagall? Professor Snape? Professor Flitwick?" She glanced up at the overcast sky before continuing. "Would you mind joining us? We need to talk … we've got a problem."