AN:

Okay, so in my Harry Potter fangirl wonderings I got to the end of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone and thought: 'Hm, I wonder if Snape contributed any pictures to Harry's photo album?' After all, Hagrid says he 'sent owls off to ALL' of Lily and James' old school friends. Surely he'd have asked Dumbledore for a list of who was at school with them and surely Hagrid would have known that Snape was in the same year. But would he have dared to ask him? Doubt it. So, this isn't about Snape contributing. It's about Snape hearing about the album off a rather crafty Dumbledore. Hope you like. Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter…God, I wish I owned Harry Potter… *stares dreamily off into the distance*

'Another year gone by quite successfully. Wouldn't you say, Severus?'

From his standing position across the desk, Snape raised an eyebrow.

'Successful? Hardly. Unless you call Potter's several near-misses at death successful.'

'Well, they were misses, were they not?It seems to me that a miss, however near, may indeed be celebrated as a success.'

'The Dark Lord infiltrated the school with the aid of a teacher and almost killed the boy. Near-miss or not, I'd hardly like for it to happen again.'

'Ah, but I am certain that it will. You see,' Dumbledore began, rising from his chair. Snape resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He could feel a speech coming on. 'Mr Potter is and will always be the target of Lord Voldemort's aggressions, Severus. There is nothing we can do to alter that. Hogwarts, as people continue to remind me, is regarded as a place of safety. Quite impenetrable, I hear. But this year's events show us that we must not place so much faith in these old walls. Even dwellings such as this can be entered, with the right amount of planning and determination. And, I think you and I both know, Severus - Lord Voldemort has quite enough of both.'

'So, we are to watch as year after year the boy, ourselves, this very school, is placed under some insidious attack?' Outrage, disbelief, confusion. Feelings often felt in the presence of Albus Dumbledore.

'Yes – and no. I believe that Lord Voldemort's failings with the stone will have pushed his determination to even greater levels. Which does not bode well for us. I have no doubt that while here at school, young Mr Riddle planted a means by which he might re-enter it, in the event of later catastrophes. For a man determined to cheat death, he made himself well-prepared for it. For a man so sure of his own immortality, he was certainly cautious to guard it. From what I can surmise, we might expect an inside attack.' At this, Snape, shocked, moved to speak, but Dumbledore raised a hand and Severus, schoolboy once more, was silenced. 'After that, perhaps within a few years…he will return, Severus. At which point, I am afraid that we will no longer be watching. We will be acting. And so once again I may have to ask too much of you.' He looked at him over those damnable glasses and Snape's heart jumped into his throat. He had suspected it of course. Even tried to prepare himself. But the inevitability, the calmness, with which Dumbledore spoke, alarmed even him. Years. Just a few years and all those days of darkness and duplicity would once again fall. And the boy he had sworn to protect, that detestable, arrogant, loathsome boy. Lily's boy…would be in the greatest danger of them all.

'You – you are sure? A matter of years?'

'Voldemort's followers will hear of this before long. Papers, parents, they may not put two and two together. But followers – the old crowd – they most certainly will. He will begin to gather, quietly, slowly. He will give us perhaps some time for Harry to grow, to be able to better handle the situation. But yes, I have no doubt whatsoever: Voldemort will rise again. One does not come so high…and not leave ledges on which to catch themselves if they fall.'

There was a moment of stunned silence in which Albus thoughtfully stroked the phoenix and Snape stood, bat-like, still and quiet. Then, ever surprising, Dumbledore jumped back to life:

'Now, Severus. I believe I have a few pieces of work to do before our end-of-year feast. You will be attending of course?'

'Yes – yes Headmaster.'

'Very good.'

Snape turned to leave.

'Oh, Severus,' He turned back. 'Would you mind, giving this list to Hagrid? I would do it myself but I am rather pressed for time. Perhaps you could send it with an owl, if that would be easier?'

Suppressing a look of contempt, Snape took the paper, inclined his head and departed with a swing of his cloak. As the door clicked shut, Albus smiled to himself, cleared his throat and proceeded to recline and enjoy his Sherbet Lemon collection.

Striding through the halls and trampling some terrified first years in his path, Snape was not at all pleased. The old man might be one of the greatest wizards of the age, but he could also be insufferable. He spoke in riddles and speeches and half of the time with his elements of foreboding his every sentence sounded like the closing chapter of a mystery novel. It was infuriating. If only he could garner some straight answers! Even he, whom he believed Dumbledore trusted with many great secrets, never really got to know all he wanted to.

Seething in frustration, he tore open the list Dumbledore had given him, folded over, and glanced down it. For a moment, his irritated didn't register how familiar the monikers were.

These were people who were in his year at Hogwarts. Most of them he'd never talked to. They were acquaintances of the damned Marauders and blasted Potter and…Lily. Gryffindors, mostly. Some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. No Slytherins, as far he noted. His name wasn't listed. He felt some bizarre sense of annoyance at not being listed among this group of people who, if only very loosely, he'd belonged to.

There was a note attached, in Dumbledore's trademark emerald ink and swirling writing:

'Dear Hagrid,

As far as I'm aware, this is the most complete list of James and Lily's acquaintances. Myself and several other staff members were called to think and this is who we came up with – not including the list of past Order members I gave you, who might be a greater help in acquiring photographs closer to their time of death. Of course, I would most certainly check first with Remus – of all of them, he is the most likely. I'm not quite certain if any of their own pictures were left behind and collected, though I doubt it. If you think of any other ways I might assist you, do not hesitate to ask.

Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore'

Photographs? Hagrid wanted photographs of Lily and Potter? Why on Earth…? Tredding more purposefully now, Snape made his way to Hagrid's hut. The giant was sat outside and balked at the appearance of the Potions Master, until he thrust the paper forward:

'From Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid. He insisted I bring it you.'

'Ah, thank yer Professer.' Hagrid answered, moving forward to take it. Snape was almost reluctant to let it go.

'I couldn't help but glance at it, Hagrid. Why on Earth are you looking for pictures of…the Potters?' Over a decade and it still made a part of him cringe to say it. He always tried to regard Lily as a separate entity, despite the daily proof he now endured that she was not.

'It's not fer me Professer. It's for littel 'arry. He don't 'ave no pictures of 'em yer see. So, I thought it might be nice ter find some fer 'im, as a goin' 'ome present.'

The almost adoring look on Hagrid's face might have made Snape vomit, if his gag reflex wasn't strengthened by his years of mixing strong-smelling chemicals:

'I see,' he droned. His interest had petered out. Truly, the way these people idolised that idiotic boy was sickening. 'Well, good day then Hagrid.' He turned and hadn't even had time to think what might happen next before it did.

'Professer,' Hagrid called. Snape cringed.

'Yes?' He answered, flatly, turning back.

'You wouldn' 'appen to 'ave any pictures yerself, would yer?' The hairs on the back of Snape's neck stood on end, but years of keeping a blank face meant he didn't show his discomfort.

'I'm afraid not, Hagrid.'

The half-giant managed to look disappointed.'Nev'a mind. Jus' thought I'd ask, that's all.'

'Yes. Well…good day, Hagrid.'

It had been a total lie. Half of it anyway. He didn't have any pictures of Potter. But of course, he did of Lily. From age 9, Muggle photographs, to age 15, moving wizard ones. Right up to that summer day when he'd done the worst thing he'd ever done. He kept them in a book hidden amongst the potions manuals on his private shelf. He wasn't in most of them, or if he was his younger self looked extremely irritated and shy. He hated photos of himself.

Still, staring at him from every page was Lily. Lily before Potter in most cases. Lily when he had the faintest, most daring hope that she could be his. Lily in the best days of his life.

AN:

Well, another Snily fic, because I just couldn't resist. What do you think? Please review! xxx