Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine.

A/N: Holy Shizz. I wrote a lot. I'm so proud of myself. Haha. Snape-centricness, just because I love him so damn much.

This is dedicated to Marissa for pushing me on and to Stacey for inspiring me... note to Stacey: It's there if you squint. I'm sorry! It's hard. (twss)

Four Times Severus Snape Was Alone and One Time He Wasn't.

When Severus Snape first saw the pair of girls sitting together on the grass, the both of them disregarding the grass stains that covered ever inch of their jeans, he was entranced. The two huddled together, giggling loudly and arguing in hushed whispers laced with fondness for one another. They smiled and teased and smacked each other upside the head playfully.

Whenever he came to the park, he sought out the bright, fiery hair and sparkling eyes, contrasted by the angular blonde that was attached to her hip. More often than not, they would be sitting off somewhere together, talking about whatever flitted across their minds. Each time he came back, he would notice something more. The almond shape of the red head's eyes. The dimples that showed what she smiled. The way she threw her head back when she laughed.

So the first time he stepped out from behind the bushes, he expected her to accept him. He'd watched her enough that he practically knew her by then. She took him with a stride, nodding at his odd dress-like smock and bringing him into their little circle. The only thing Snape hadn't anticipated was Petunia Evans, after all, he had barely even spared her a passing glance, his own beady eyes fixed on Lily.

The first minute they were alone, she pounced. "Leave my sister alone." The girl huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't think so. I want to talk to her."

"Well I don't want to talk to you."

Snape replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then don't."

The girl stomped her foot, digging her shoe into the dirt and grinding it as she muttered about how she was her sister first.

Severus's lips just twisted into a crooked smile as he leant back against a tree, watching the girl throw her tantrum and sneered. "Lily is going to go to school with me, not you. You're going to stay here and go to school with all of the rest of the muggles. You're not good enough to go to Hogwarts. Only the really best go there."

Petunia shot him a scathing look, her eyes hysterically wide before they narrowed into slits. "Fine. I didn't even want to go in the first place. Why would I want to go to a school filled with freaks?"

"We're not freaks. Once I get my wand, I can do whatever I want to you."

"Fine, you're cowards. Scardey cats. You hide behind your magic in your oh-so-special school."

Snape's face twisted, his eyes taking on a venomous glint. "I am not a coward. Don't you dare call me that, you filthy, little muggle." His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but he spoke clearly, calmly, hatred and anger lacing his words in a way that frightened Petunia into backing away warily.

The girl glared at him. "I don't know what you called me, but I just want to tell you that you're ot good enough for her."

"For who?"

"Lily." With that, Petunia turned around, ready to go home, find Lily and convince her that this boy was full of pointless idiocy.

Snape watched her leave, his shoulders hunched and his stance firm as he bellowed after her. "YOU'RE WRONG." The retreating figure ignored him, not even sparing a backward glance at the boy's flushed face. She didn't see his narrowed eyes. His pursed lips. His thoughtful look.

She didn't need to look back. She'd already said what she needed to say. In her opinion, Snape was a freak, a coward, a liar, and an obsessive stalker and nothing could convince her otherwise.

Dumbledore always said that truth was a beautiful and terrible thing and Snape took that all with a stride and a swish of his cloak. Fine then, he didn't need to know the truth. Dumbledore was right of course. There was no need to know the truth. It would only make him more partial. He just needed to do his job. Pretty soon, he immersed himself so much in his role that he became the evil potions teacher that hated everyone and loved no one.

Then Dumbledore said that death was the next great adventure. Snape swallow the lump in his throat and push away the thoughts of Lily, focusing all his energy in keeping her son safe. His eyes would hold a small glint of sadness as he swept through the corridors, searching out the dratted Potter boy who had Lily's eyes.

When the headmaster told Snape that 'it was the choices, that make the person,' the disappointment which he felt was written all over his face. Snape didn't look away, instead staring him straight in the eyes boldy, the lusterless eyes watching the older man blankly. By then, he'd began to ignore some of the headmaster's guilt trips. He'd done bad things. He'd be punished for it. He'd continue to be punished for it every single day that he had to follow Potter.

Snape tolerated it all. He braced himself for all the passive aggressiveness that Dumbledore threw his way and the greasy haired man brushed it all away. Nothing mattered, after all. Lily was dead. It was because of him. Now, his job was to keep her son safe, to keep the beauty of Lily's eyes in the world. And maybe even to hope that the boy would pull through and be able to kill Lily's murderer.

Even after all this time, Snape's life revolved around Lily and their broken friendship.

Then Dumbledore had to go and bring James into it. "You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night."

And as a smile slowly dawned on Harry's face, Snape's heart settled down in his stomach. Snape leaned against the wall, laying his head back and slumping over tiredly. The Potter boy didn't notice his potions professor as he left the headmaster's office, the boy fumbling through the halls in a daze.

There was another reminder of just how similar Harry was to James. There was this slight arrogance behind fake modesty. There were the similar looks. There was the lack of skill in potions. The lack of social skills. The fights. The hatr-

"Severus, you can come in. And I daresay, if I can detect you outside my office, you might want to brush up on your spy skills until we need to put them to use again."

Snape looked up, staring at the closed door between them. He could easily turn back now while he was tired and wanted to be alone. Or he could go inside and face Dumbledore. It took him a mere second to choose the latter as he fixed up his robes and walked briskly into the room.

"Yes Headmaster? Is there something you require of me? I would like to think that I can spend and evening without being dragged into a whole new mess with the Potter boy," Snape said, his voice was already low and subdued. Dumbledore seemed to pick up on his distress through that.

"Is something the matter?" Dumbledore stared at Snape from above the half moon glasses perched on his crooked nose.

Snape just shook his head and took a seat. Dumbledore watched him, and Snape could feel the old man's eyes searching him, as if picking apart his structure and trying to fit everything together. For some reason, it grated on Snape's nerves. "It's Potter," Snape answered mutedly. "I'm-"

"Worried about him? There is no reason to be s-"

"Indeed, there is no reason to be. And I am not. I simply find it fascinating that Potter attaches himself to this image he has of his father and strives to be more like him."

"And by fascinating you mean you hate him because of it?"

"Try again. I do not hate the boy."

"You're scared for him."

"Perhaps. I don't want him to meet the same fate as her. If he acts like him, he will, without fail, and of his own accord too. He could've easily been kissed by a dementor, but he got lucky."

"Yes, it seems that he has a lucky streak."

Snape slammed his hands onto Dumbledore's desk. "THAT'S NOT THE POINT. He is going to kill himself."

"Consider me warned, Severus."

"Headmaster… I mean to say that-"

"What were we talking about? My memory isn't as great as it should be… Would you like a lemon drop?" The old man motioned to the bowl on his desk, efficiently changing the topic.

Snape just hissed angrily under his breath.

"What was that, Severus? It seems my hearing is failing me. It's because of this aging body of mine."

Severus Snape just felt like punching that damn twinkling eye of his.

Snape watched as Molly Weasley hovered over her brood, ticking and tuttling noisily as she did whatever it was that mothers were supposed to do… Snape wouldn't know. His own mother had always been off doing everything but. She was always too busy being yelled at and taking it all so passively that she never glanced his way. Molly would never d- Snape shook his head. His mind didn't need to stray there. He turned away from Molly and swept down the corridor silently.

Molly was only satisfied once everyone was seated at the table. Her lips split into a broad grin as she oversaw their dinner. The children laughed and chattered happily away, munching on their food in between- or in Ron's case, both at the same time. Hermione told him off for it before Molly even had a chance to. She laughed with the others, watching her son's face turn pink as he up a mouthful of meat.

It felt good for her to see the children happy, especially in such hard times. Poor Harry seemed to find it hard to seek amusement in such little things after all that he was going through. But here, at this chattering communion, everyone was together safe an- wait. Someone was missing.

Molly's eyes zeroed in on an empty chair on one end of the table, her mind zooming to make out who was gone. Snape. Molly huffed and she left the room, determined to find that man and drag him back by the ear, if she had to.

She marched down the hallways, eyes. There weren't many places he could be and the most likely was the library, so she headed there swiftly, mentally preparing a rant. However, as she peeked through the room, her face softened.

Snape was sprawled over a chair, a book played open on his chest. Molly approached him cautiously, making out his closed eyes and slow, steady breathing as the book rose and feel repeatedly. His gaunt face remained deadpan even as he slept and Molly could make out his thin lips twisted into a grimace below his hooked nose. When she read the title of the book on his chest, she couldn't help but frown.

The man was going to have nightmares if he read such gruesome books before he nodded off. Molly reached down, grabbing the book that the man's pasty fingers were wrapped around, just as she had done so many times with Percy. With the weight of the burdensome tome off of his chest, Snape shifted muttering something under his breath.

Molly smiled and pushed his hair out of his face, making a note to tell him to wash it thoroughly next time he stepped near the shower. She gasped in shock when a large hand grabbed her wrists harshly and looked down to see two ink black eyes blinking owlishly up at her before narrowing into serpentine slits.

"What are you doing," Snape hissed through clenched, yellowing teeth.

"No need to talk to me like that. I'm just taking care of you. Goodness knows that someone needs to do that, seeing as you refuse to regard yourself as a living thing. You have limits, Severus. Rest."

"How touching. Mama Weasley wants to take care of poor Professor Snape. I daresay I don't need any help so please leave."

"No."

"No?"

"How old are you Severus? If you don't want to take a nap, at least come and eat dinner. It's not good for someone your age to be skipping dinenr."

"It is not your place to tell me what I should be doing and I once again kindly ask you to remove yourself from my personal bubble."

"Is something wrong, Severus?"

"No. Go. Leave."

Molly looked at him skeptically, but knew that if he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. "Fine, but don't be afraid to come confide in me about anything. I'm probably one of the only ones in the Order who trust your-"

"Leave."

"There's no need for you to take your frustration out on me. I'm on your side. We're all on the same side and we need to get along."

"I was under the impression that you would be leaving now."

"I worry about you Severus."

"No one told you to."

When Snape walked into Lord Voldemort's quarter's, he was never more thankful for the mask that covered his face. At Voldemort's feet, lay Draco Malfoy, moaning and writhing in pain, his right hand twitching insistently. Snape frowned, pushing away the urge to aid the boy and looked up at Voldemort, taking great measure not to look into his eyes.

He did not speak, instead, waiting for Voldemort to acknowledge him.

He watched. The cruciatus curse was cast countless times on such a young boy. A frown marred Snape's features but the eyes that stared at Draco through the mask were cold and emotionless.

Voldemort laughed. He laughed every time Draco whimpered or cried or screamed and only stopped when Draco had cried all his tears away and screamed until he couldn't scream anymore. Voldemort twirled his wand and kicked the slumped boy at his feet. Snape winced when Voldemort looked up at him, eyes blood red, angry and crazed. "Severus Snape."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Tell me. Why was it that young Malfoy wasn't the one to dispose of Dumbledore?"

"It wasn't his fault. I-"

"You defied me. You should be on the ground here begging me for forgiveness."

Snape automatically bent over onto all fours and crawled over to Voldemort, kissing the hem of the thing's robes. "I'm sorry, my lord." He waited there, with his head bowed in a position of submission, pushing away the voice in the back of his mind that was berating him for following through with such a degrading gesture. But he needed to live and he needed to help Draco survive.

"Up, Snape."

Snape stood up, calmly, and collected himself.

"Why did Malfoy not kill Dumbledore? Why was it you?"

The story spilt forth from Snape's lips—a reasonable account of events that made both him and Draco seem like a victim of circumstance. Voldemort seemed to buy it, reasonably so.

Draco pulled at Snape's leg and Snape looked down, staring at the pale remnants of the boy that had once been so strong. Snape's eyes softened but he shook him off.

Voldemort caught the motion and his eyes darkened.

"Do I see pity in your eyes, Severus?"

"No, my lord," Snape answered quickly, mentally reprimanding himself for his mistake.

Voldemort just sent a cruiciatus his way and in moment, Snape was on the floor, writhing in pain next to a wide-eyed Malfoy.

When Snape opened his eyes, the first thing he remembered is that he was dead. The first thing he saw was the headmaster's office, McGonagall and Potter staring up at him. Up at him… what?

"Hi Professor Snape," the Potter boy piped up. "I got your portrait put up."

Snape glared at him and looked back and forth between Potter and Minevra. "I take it the Dark Lord is dead."

"Voldemort," Harry corrected, "And yeah. He's gone."

"Shut up Potter."

"Thank you for the memories, Professor."

"If you mention those to anyone, I will personally find a way to come back to life and do things to you even the Dark Lord would cringe at."

"Vold-"

"I don't care."

Harry just smiled. "Thank you for saving me so many times. I'm sorry for having doubted you."

"I would have questioned your sanity if you had trusted me. I questioned Dumbledore's enough."

"My mother would be proud of you."

"Shut it," Snape replied, but then his face softened. "I know."

"So this is it."

"Bye Potter. Don't you dare come back to see me."

"I won't"

"And thank you, too. For getting rid of him."

"Bye."

"Bye."

A/N: It's oveeeeer. I've been working on this for a while and I had a lot of fun obsessing over Snape.

I hope you liked it.

Review please.

XOXO

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