Harry left the hospital, where he'd just been released after a nasty fall off his broom, and stalked towards his room. He was so angry he was shaking with rage. Why did those stupid creatures insist on bothering him? Why did everyone else just 'feel sad' while he had to relive his parents being murdered until he blacked out? Harry was so caught up in muttering to himself that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and ended up running head first into Professor Snape.
"Sorry, sir." he muttered.
Snape automatically reached out to steady the boy and was startled when he saw how such a troubled expression on the youngster's face. He, along with everyone else, had seen how strongly the dementors affected the boy, and even had suspicions as to why, but he didn't know exactly how to help with out giving too much away. At first he had determined to ignore the problem, but seeing as what had happened at the match today, he knew that something needed to be done. Obviously, no one else was going to do it, so that left him.
"Come with me, Potter."
Snape led him to his private office and motioned for the boy to sit. Then he surprised both of them by offering tea and saying, "You might as well tell me what's bothering you."
Normally Harry wouldn't have told this particular teacher anything, but seeing as how Snape was being kind, as he desperately needed someone to talk to, he just started blurting things out. Snape sat back and patiently waited for him to finish.
"Tell me, Potter. Do you think you're the only one who is affected by dementors? You think they make you feel things that no one else does?"
"No offense, Professor, but you can't possibly understand what I hear when those horrible dementors come close."
It was Snape's turn to laugh, again without humor. "You'd be surprised what I know, Harry."
Harry turned and glanced at the older man. "What do you mean?" he asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Snape had used his first name.
"I imagine that, having been in the house with your parents while they were murdered, and knowing that they died to save you, well, I would think that would leave scars. Deep scars."
"I mostly hear my mum," Harry muttered softly. "Once I heard my dad. He hollered for my mom to take me and run, that he'd try and hold Voldemort off." He was silent a moment before continuing. "But mostly I hear me mom screaming, 'Not Harry. Please, not Harry!'"
He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice Snape mouthing the words with him. Neither did he know the thoughts running through his Professor's mind.
Harry thought a moment then continued. "It's so weird. Sometimes I think she's pleading with some one besides Voldemort. You know? It's almost like there's some-one else standing there. I can't get the expression on her face out of my mind. She looks so hurt! I used to wonder if she was friends with that monster and she felt betrayed. That's the feeling that is in her eyes. Betrayal."
Snape visibly jerked and felt the tears start in his eyes. He knew he had to get the boy out of there quickly, before he completely broke down.
"Okay, Mr. Pot- I mean, Harry. I believe that's enough for tonight. Go on to your common room before I take points for being out after curfew." Before Harry could reach the door, he called him back. "Oh, and Potter? Maybe you should talk with Professor Lupin tomorrow about teaching you to fend off the dementors. It seems you need the help more than I thought."
Harry nodded and started to go. Then he stopped and came back. He walked right up to Snape, and before his startled Professor could question him, he gave the man a strong hug. "Thanks, Professor Snape. I really appreciate this."
A hesitant hand patted his shoulder before he let go and ran off. Harry ran straight through the common's room, grateful no one stopped him. He needed some time to think about what he'd learned tonight. Snape cared. He couldn't show it, but it was enough to know that he did!
Snape was ever so thankful Harry never looked back. If he had, he would've seen Snape with tears running down his face. There were so many things he could never tell the boy. He'd admitted to caring, yes, but he hadn't admitted to how proud he was of Harry for dealing with the 'ghosts of his past', or how much it hurt him to know that the boy was indeed right. Lily had felt betrayed that night. Someone who she'd considered a friend had betrayed her. It just hadn't been Voldemort. It'd been him.
Returning to his room, he pulled out his pensieve and tossed in Harry's memory of that night. Harry's true memory, not the modified version he'd been given.
Snape'd spent the whole night trying to find a way to save Lily. His precious Lily, whom he dearly loved. He'd had no idea when he repeated that prophecy to the Dark Lord that it would be Harry who was the target.
That night, Voldemort allowed Snape to accompany him, as a reward for the information. Wormtail had also been allowed to come. James had seen Wormtail first followed closely by the Dark Lord and had yelled for Lily to take Harry and run. He'd arrogantly believed he could hold them off long enough for Lily to escape. Snape had found himself hoping they would. When Peter had seen his friend and saw the understanding dawn in James's eyes he'd turned chicken and left. Snape continued. James fell quickly, his last words to his beloved wife and son. They continued on to the bedroom where Lily was trying to hide Harry. She'd scooped the baby up and was clutching him tightly. Voldemort was true to his word, and tried to convince her to put the child down. "Save yourself!" he hissed. "You foolish girl! Put the boy down, and save yourself!"
That's when Lily had spotted him. "Severus!" she screamed. "Please, Severus, no! I trusted you! Please, Severus, not Harry! Not Harry! Severus, please, not Harry!"
As Voldemort had killed her, Snape quit breathing. Anguish filled his heart and it was all he could do to stay upright. He'd been so astounded he barely registered what he'd seen when the curse rebounded off Harry and onto the Dark Lord. After Voldemort had fallen and fled, Snape looked at the baby in disbelief. It couldn't be true. The baby was alive? But how!
Knowing he had to act quickly Snape had scooped the crying child up and apparated. He went to the only place he could think of that the child would be safe. Hogwarts.
Dumbledore had listened carefully to Snape's tearful admission. He'd known the young man loved Lily, he just hadn't known how much. It grieved him to hear of the death of the Potter's, but he was also delighted the prophecy was happening as said. However, both men knew that this wasn't the end of it. Voldemort had retreated, yes, but he'd not been vanquished. Therefore, Dumbledore had quickly come up with the plan to enforce the blood protection Lily had passed on to her son.
Severus's request to care for the child, himself, had been denied for many reasons. Severus himself could be a wanted man if it came into knowledge that he'd witnessed Voldemort's defeat! Not to mention what would happen if or when he returned.
So, Severus pretended he'd never been there, told the Death Eaters he was eagerly awaiting the Dark Lord's return, told the Order that he was trying to maintain his spy position in case of a return, and he lived the life of a lie. The only problem was he couldn't leave that life. He'd never be true again.
Every time he saw Harry, he relived that night over and over again. The cruciatous curse would be preferable. It took effort for him to understand anything the boy said. From the first, and to this day, he continuously hears Lily's desperate voice echoing throughout his head. "Please, Severus, not Harry! Not Harry! Severus, please, not Harry!"
Snape still held many secrets, and he intended to keep it that way. It would only increase their hatred if they knew, and that wasn't necessary. He hated himself enough for everyone.