where Hadrian has a huge crush and doesn't know it yet)
Hadrian can feel the tears that are streaming down his face, cold points of contact reminding him that this is real.
The familiar piercing gaze of his once surly professor is a heady weight that grounds him in this moment. (If you had told him in first year that anything about Snape would ever bring him something approaching comfort, he would have thought you'd lost your marbles.)
"I'm no longer your professor, Mr. Potter."
Years of hearing his name from Severus' lips, in his low soothing tone was nothing new; He was never one to need to yell to get his point across, the simple act of Severus speaking was enough to demand your attention.
The lack of a sneer, of vitriol and acidity in his tone, however was new; As long as he had known Severus he had always sounded pained at the need to interact with him.
He wonders how much of that was an act, how much was a facade the double agent had to use in order to stay in character? He wonders how much of it was a defense mechanism due to the fact that he looks so much like his father parents.
He can't help the small chuckle he lets out again, he feels hysterical.
"No, and I'm no longer your student, Severus." He replies as evenly as he can.
He can't make himself stop looking at Severus, seeing things that he had missed so long ago, along with things he had never seen because this Severus was oh-so-young. His hair isn't as long, it lacks volume, but it frames his face nicely. The lack of wrinkles is apparent, it makes Hadrian want to touch his face. The fact that he has to look down at Severus, a man who once towered over him and seemed so scary, does funny things to his stomach.
"Impudent brat." Severus clicks his tongue, the twitch of his lips, there and gone again, betrays his amusement.
Death clears their throat. It brings both his and Severus attention to the being.
"Maybe we should take a seat and have some tea before we get to the main course, hm darling?" Death says, as he carefully tucks a stray piece of hair behind Severus' ear.
A pink flush blooms on Severus' face as he nods hesitantly to the being, before he walks to the couch opposite Hadrian and takes a seat. Motioning for him to do the same.
And because Death is himself, tea made to their preferences appears before them.
Hadrian's eyes are once again drawn to Severus. What he once thought were eyes as black as coal in first year, are actually eyes a lovely hazel color; And while Severus does have a bigger nose, it suits his face and his features, he has an aquiline nose. Not that he knew what that meant at the tender age of 11, this Severus was also a slight thing at the age of 20, he wonders if he's always been this slight and Harry just hadn't noticed due to his age.
"Is there something on my face, Potter?" Severus asks him, eyes flicking up to his face before he takes a sip of his tea.
"Hadrian." He croaks out, voice still unwilling to cooperate.
A pause before he puts the tea down is the only indication that Severus heard and understood the significance of what he had said.
"Is there something on my face, Hadrian?" Severus asks again, unwilling to be deterred.
"No, it's just different seeing you like this." He replies honestly.
A slight tilt of the head and a hum are the only indicators of Severus curiosity. (He almost reminds Hadrian of the kneazles that Mrs. Figg had in her home.)
"Seeing me like what, exactly, dead?" Severus enquires, the confusion clear in his voice.
"Oh." It suddenly hits him that Severus might not know how he looks at the moment, "No, not dead. You just, I think you're twenty right now, Severus."
The cup that was making its way to his lips comes to an abrupt halt before clattering as it's set down roughly.
"What." Severus voice while soft, booms in the quiet room, his gaze moves sharply to glare at Death.
Death simply smiles before conjuring a mirror directly in front of Severus.
The room is silent as Severus takes himself in, a moment later, with a flick of his wrist, it's gone.
Hadrian isn't sure if that was Death's doing, or if their magick works the same in this place as in the realm of the living.
"Severus?"
"It's… fine," Severus finally replies after several moments have passed. "I won't stay this way forever. Death said he gave you a choice which I presume will negate whatever is going on here, in what I assume is something akin to purgatory."
Well he isn't wrong, but Hadrian doesn't think telling him they'd likely both be far younger than they are now if they go back in time is going to be a comfort.
"It would negate your current age yes," Hadrian said carefully, though from the pursing of Severus' lips he quickly caught on the fact that he would likely not be happy with what that negation meant.
"Speak plainly." Severus requests, "What choices have we been given?"
He takes a deep breath to steel himself.
"We can go back to before I started at Hogwarts and change everything." Hadrian discloses, then hesitates.
"What is the caveat, Mr. Potter?" Severus inquires.
"Hadrian." The reply comes quickly, he doesn't think he can handle hearing 'Mr. Potter' endlessly from Severus' lips, not after everything they've done and everything he now knows.
"There are a few conditions- first, is that Tom Riddle, with a healed soul, would come back with us."
The near silent gasp that escapes Severus mouth feels like damnation.
"The second condition is that we would all need to go to therapy." Hadrian says before shooting Death a glare.
Death smiles at him, eyes full of amusement, watching as Hadrian stumbles over the conditions.
After a moment of silence, he turns back to Severus who seems to be biting his lip, only to hear a chuckle pass his lips before he bursts into laughter. The sound itself isn't something he's ever heard before, it's a delightful surprise of a reaction. He watches as Severus eyes close and his face crinkles, as he doubles over while holding his stomach, laughing as if Hadrian had just told the funniest joke.
"You want," another chuckle interrupts his sentence, "Lord Voldemort to go to—" a hiccuping sound follows, "go to therapy?!", a gasping breath, as Severus seems to be trying to re-orient himself, his thin index finger coming up to wipe away at tears Hadrian hadn't even noticed were falling from his eyes. "What the fuck, Hadrian?"
He puts his hands up in a show of surrender, "That's not my condition," Hadrian says before pointing to Death intent on throwing him under the bus, "it's his, so if anyone should be what the fucked, it's him."
"It wouldn't be Lord Voldemort as you say, who would be going back with you and that needs therapy, it would be Tom Marvolo Riddle." Death finally deigns himself to interject.
"Splitting his soul as many times as he did was the problem because soul and mind are closely linked, he was left with less than one percent of his soul and less than one percent of his mind by the time he was 'resurrected', he was certifiably insane. The Tom Riddle I watched learn and grow at Hogwarts while lacking in emotion and compassion, was not yet evil and could have done amazing things." A wistful smile makes its way onto Death's face.
"While I don't really care what you do with your time in the realm of the living, burn it down for all that it matters. It could be," Death twirls his finger seemingly trying to find the right word, "entertaining, to watch Tom change the Wixen world with mind and soul intact, and of course with you two by his side."
Hadrian inherently understood the words that Death was saying, but the fact of the matter was that he didn't know how different Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle could truly be. However his ancestor was giving him a gift, and said he would only do things in Hadrian's best interest, he was inclined to trust in that if nothing else.
Severus, it seemed, was also solemn and contemplative of all that the condition came with.
"How much would he know?" Severus finally asked after a moment, "Would he know the same things Voldemort did at the time of his demise?"
Hadrian watched as Severus' finger circled the rim of his teacup over and over. He wondered if it was a method of self soothing.
He winced unbidden when the question sunk in. (Would he know I betrayed him because Hadrian couldn't keep his big mouth shut and had to announce it in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts? That's what he was truly asking, in not so many words.)
Death let out a laugh that sounded foreboding more than comforting, he, of course, also heard the unasked question.
(Hadrian was coming to appreciate Death's interesting quirks.)
"It would be a little complicated," Death answered, "He split his soul and mind, first in the diary, fifty percent of his soul and mind while not a lot, was still something he could work with. Twenty-five percent after he made the ring and murdered his father. Twelve point five percent after the cup, and six point two five percent after the diadem and on and on we go."
"The more horcruxes he made, the less sane he was, and the less reliable his memory than became?" Severus asked, "Was there a tipping point?"
"The tipping point, his point of no return, was likely the cup. I didn't like it but he was able to retain some sanity and intellect with up to twenty-five percent of his soul." Death replied, "so to answer your question Severus, he is unlikely to remember anything after his vanishing, and anything between creating the horcrux in the cup and the vanishing will feel like an old memory."
"It is likely you will have to tell him anyways if you want to have a conductive relationship in the future-past however," Death interjected when it seemed like Severus was content with the answer. "Especially with all three of you needing to go to therapy, big secrets between only two of you won't go over well."
Severus appeared to agree, if only begrudgingly.
"Does that mean you want to go back?" Hadrian asked hopefully.
The tap, tap, tap of Severus' nail against the teacup was loud in the quiet room.
"Why should I go back when I can go on?" Severus reply came at last.
"Convince me, Hadrian."