So, the original version of this was put up about a year or so ago, but I deleted it upon realizing how bad it was. Since then, although it hasn't been too long, my writing has improved. So, hpefully, you'll like it!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, there would be a series focusing on the Marauders' Era.


When he was a young boy, he never believed in love. Would a relationship filled with constant abuse and dispute even be considered as love? His parents weren't a couple to be affectionate at any times, if you could even call them a couple.

There was the possibility that they had loved, or even liked, each other at one point, without which he probably wouldn't even exist. If they had, something had happened, for now, their hatred ran so deep their son forgot about love.

He might have thought he had nothing in his life if it weren't for his mother. When he was old enough to understand, his mother had revealed her true nature to him while his father was out, most likely drinking.

You have magic running through you, Mum had said, you're special, you are a wizard. He wouldn't have believed her if it wasn't for his naive hope to be different and the accidental magic. His mother had even showed him her wand and cast a few harmless spells.

At every possible chance, she would explain the wizarding world to him. It had fascinated him every time. Once, she even took him to Knockturn Alley. They had passed through Diagon Alley while on their way and he had never seen anything like it. Eyes gleaming in happiness, he looked at his mother, who seemed to have a similar expression on her face from his happiness. She wasn't exactly known for her looks (or really known at all), but in that moment, not only was she quite pretty, he considered the prospect of love. A mother's love, but love nonetheless.

It wasn't until about a year later though, that he considered the prospect of him loving someone.

From time to time he'd see her. It was usually the occasional glimpse, but he'd also spend his time hidden and watching her. It might've seemed just a tad stalkerish, but it was just as good an excuse to stay away from his house, which wasn't even close to feeling like home.

He was only nine years old, but had developed an instant attraction to her.

At first sight she would've seemed like your typical muggle. He probably wouldn't even had cared, but he then took notice of her eyes. Her emerald green eyes, filled to the brim with curiosity, wonder and happiness, were what enticed him. And since then, even if she ended up as a muggle, he knew he'd always be drawn in by her.

Observing her wasn't the easiest task even if she never saw him. It was just difficult when her foolish and nosy sister was around. Yet, those moments paid off. Although he had been often mocked for having greasy hair and dark, oversized clothes, he was almost certain that she wouldn't. She didn't seem like the type to.

After one particular afternoon at the park, his suspicions were confirmed when he witnessed what couldn't have been anything other than magic. Whereas her annoying sister had stomped off, clearly upset, she was intrigued.

My name's Lily, she had said. And in that moment, he felt as if there couldn't be a word quite as brilliant as her name.

It didn't take long for them to become friends. Not just friends, but best friends.

Soon enough, he found himself blushing and stuttering around her. He was mortified he'd make a fool of himself around her when he realised he fancied her.

The next year was rather eventful, perhaps the greatest year of his life so far. The duo had received their Hogwarts letters at the same time. While his had the acceptance letter and supplies, Lily's had come with an explanatory letter, with everything he had told her and more.

His parents, however, had just about the opposite reaction. His mother was happy, but his father was not. He shouted and as he cowered in a dark corner, his mother finally stood up. She fought back, regardless of him hurting her. Terrified, he watched his mother stand up straight, yelling back, until she was bruised and bloodied, sporting the look of a woman who wasn't about to give up anytime soon.

His father didn't seem to have a care in the world, except for the fact that his wife was a witch. It continued and the boy ran away to escape the horror in his house.

He came back in a few hours, of course, but in the meantime, he sought comfort and happiness in Lily. Immediately, he knew he made a good decision as his worries escaped his mind.

They hung out, laughing and reading their school books, for they had gone to Diagon Alley together for their supplies not too long ago.

It was that day that they decided to sneak into Petunia's room just for laughs. They didn't find anything when the Hogwarts seal caught his eye. He pointed it out to Lily and together, they read it. Just as they were finishing it, Petunia came in and caught them.

Livid with fury, she shouted and threw them out of her room. From then, Lily broke into tears as she fully realised that the bond between her and Petunia was now fully broken.

Time flew by and before they knew it, it was September 1, 1971. They went to King's Cross Station, crossed Platform Nine and Three Quarters together, and sat together.

Unfortunately, they wound up sitting next to them. Potter and Black. As he told Lily that she'd want to go to Slytherin, Potter interrupted, contradicting him with how amazing Gryffindor was. And although Lily disliked them, he knew she was interested in Gryffindor. Thus, he didn't bring up the houses other than Slytherin for the rest of the journey to Hogwarts and when she brought them up, he did his best to steer away from the topic.

If he'd never met her, he'd think that the castle was the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen. Admittedly, he spent the whole time in the boats staring at her. He ignored the snickers, jokes, and teasing from the two boys who had made fun of him in the Hogwarts express. He was secretly happy that they were there because he'd never seen Lily get so worked up over him.

That ecstatic feeling in him didn't last long. Lily got sorted into Gryffindor. He knew, the second he saw the sad smile she shot his way, that she didn't think that he could get into Gryffindor. He knew as well but it broke his heart when it was proven that her faith in him wasn't as great as he had hoped.

And so he didn't get into Gryffindor, but, as he wanted, Slytherin. That didn't stop their budding friendship.

Alas, there was Potter and his mates. The self-proclaimed Marauders were pretty much the worst thing that had happened to him since his father. Arrogant and uptight, they typically strut through the school as if they ruled it.

While Lily wasn't exactly fond of them, she was still friends with them. It made his blood boil when she merely shouted at them when they bullied him, only to be happily talking with them the next week.

The only reason they went from acquaintances to friends was because she thought that the great prat, James Potter, had saved him. In reality, it was his curiosity about Lupin (and the fact that Lupin was undoubtedly a werewolf, for Merlin's sake) and Black being a git in general.

It helped when she insulted Potter, although he knew she somewhat respected him.

They remained best friends, despite their growing differences. Only thing was, their growing differences were keeping them apart.

Of the many, there were his friends, wizards Lily wasn't fond of. Perhaps it was because of the way he'd joined them in the corridors, sneering at anyone who shot them even the most fleeting of glances and calling every Muggleborn a Mudblood.

For him, though, there was one who he could never call a Mudblood. Lily. She despised the way he and his other friends used the term often and practiced somewhat dark spells as pranks. He knew that she knew it wasn't just a small, friendly prank, considering the only ones they hexed were Mudbloods and those from other houses.

Through all that, he didn't dare call Lily a Mudblood.

Until he did.

It was in their fifth year, during their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) that he cracked. Potter and his cronies were, to no one's surprise, torturing him again. Perhaps it was because he was simply sick and tired of them only retreating when Lily defended him that he said it. Potter's infatuation with her (not that it was unreasonable) never stopped him but the fact that he and the rest of the Marauders were friends with her made him back off.

He was just so tired of it all. Of Potter, of the Marauders, of the prejudice between Gryffindor and Slytherin, of Lily always trying to help. Of everything.

All right, Snivellus? A phrase, seemingly harmless (just minor teasing, right?) was what had started it. After all, there was nothing like being bullied to end a friendship.

And so he snapped. I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her! He regretted it, deeply, but knew their friendship was now beyond repair.

He later tried to fix it, sneaking to the Fat Lady's portrait late at night. It had been Mary, Mary Macdonald, the girl Mulciber hexed not too long ago, who had come out initially. Upon seeing him, she immediately left. He was worried and waited. Minutes later, an annoyed Lily Evans came out. I'm sorry, he said. She didn't believe him.

When he left, heading down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, he kicked the stone wall, swearing when the pain laced its way in his foot and because he was such a bloody idiot when it came to Lily.

He had tried to make up for it but she wouldn't budge. Nothing between them would be right again.

He tried to continue with life, but it had proven to be difficult.

Then, in his sixth year, he thought about the dark wizard terrorizing everyone. He'd heard of how he started out, with a mere schoolboy nickname that expanded into something much more terrifying. He decided to try it.

The Half-Blood Prince. That was his chosen nickname. He used his Potions textbook to scribble proper notes. He revised the steps for brewing potions, opting to use more efficient ways.

He had even invented his own spells. Sectumsempra, for one. He had been working on it for a while now, even going as far as using it on Potter once. He developed it, though, to make it deadlier.

She had found his book. Yelled at him for some of the darker stuff he'd written.

He didn't mind because he could see the care shining in her eyes, even if it was platonic.

He truly did love her. He wouldn't stop, either.

Even if she left him because he just couldn't think before speaking.

Even if she would look at him sadly, most likely remembering their former selves, the innocent children they once were.

Even if she would fall in love with Potter, of all people, and marry him.

He didn't mind, though. He knew he was at least important to her. And even though he might not be anymore, she'd still be important to him.

He ignored the clenching pain in his gut when he found out the Dark Lord planned on making her one of his victims. He pleaded and begged with him. Eventually, Lord Voldemort did give in, saying he'd spare her life.

But he didn't. She was dead, murdered by Voldemort himself. Potter was also dead. There was a survivor, though. Her son.

Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One.

He went to the destroyed Potter house and saw her dead body lying there. The boy, merely a year old, cried with him as he mourned Lily's death. He cradled her lifeless form, sobbing as her blank eyes, once filled with joy and wonder, stared at nothing in particular. He closed them, unable to see the eyes he had fallen in love with, and left, leaving the infant with the bodies of his parents.

It wasn't until ten years later, though, that he saw the boy again. It struck him, how he looked so much like Potter.

But he had his Lily's eyes. Whenever he saw Potter, he'd see the face of his former bully, and the eyes of his love. It was painful and resulted in an unbearable hatred for the boy.

For ten years now, he'd served Dumbledore as a spy. For one reason only, for Lily. His Lily, who had gotten entangled in the messy war in the Wizarding world.

When Nagini had struck him with a killing blow, he grabbed Potter and looked into his eyes. He died looking into her eyes.

Severus Snape never believed in love as a boy. But when it came to her, he knew that he'd love Lily. Always.


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