A/N: I got the idea for this one day after school. It randomly popped in my head as I was getting out of the car when I got home. I thought, what WOULD it be like if Harry ever saw Snape again?? I've read this story quite a few times so far, and it sounds kind of cheesy at times, but I kinda like it at the same time. But I need suggestions to make it better, or suggestions on how to continue with a second chapter. Constructive critizism (sp?) is accepted, I suppose, just as long as your entire review isn't dedicated to dissing the whole thing. If you don't like it, don't review it. Simple as that. Well, I'll let you get on with it, and thanks for viewing.

Oh, and all copyright belongs to J.K. Rowling, I course.

A cool evening breeze was whistling past the partially open window, against which Harry was resting his head, looking out at the street below. The moon was shining through the trees in the yard, casting a white glow on the rows of flowers Ginny had planted in the garden that day. Harry yawned widely, and seperated his forehead from the misty glass. He looked around the bedroom at the papers and books stacked in various spots on the floor, then down at his old school trunk. He had been going through it for more than 2 hours, sorting through pages of old notes and pockets full of moldy candies and dusty toys. He groped around the insides of the trunk, triple checking (for what seemed like the millionth time) that he hadn't missed anything. He ran his fingers along the rough wooden insides, then under the secret compartment flaps in the lid. Suddenly, his index finger caught something.

The vile began glowing bright green, illuminating the whole room with an eerie glow. A sudden stream of green light shot from the vile's opening, towards the far wall. A large black figure emerged from the stream, cowering slightly towards the wall, hiding its face. Harry's breathing tripled as he frantically reached into his robes to find his wand. But to his shock, his hands fell into collapsing, empty pockets. Where is it? he thought to himself, groping around every portion of his clothing. The figure across the room stood up slightly taller, and backed against the wall at the sight of Harry. Thinking quickly, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"My wife is in the other room, and she'll come if I scream! She's a brilliant witch she'll---"

"Be quite, boy", the figure spoke quietly but sternly.

Harry doubled backwards and the figure strode a couple of feet towards Harry, then stopped. The moon shining in from outside collided with the man's face, outlining his expression of mingled confusion and desperation. Sleek black hair was strewn in front of his shadowy face, and, Harry noticed, a long, flowing cloak trailed behind him. The man stood there in the moonlight, and looked down at himself. He raised his arms, and examined his hands and arms, then reached up and grasped a spot on his neck where two four dots indicated deep puncture wounds. Harry was horribly reminded of the night Voldemort returned, examining himself thouroughly, as if greeting a long lost friend. The man ran his fingers through his stringy black hair, before turning to look at Harry with peircing black eyes. There was a wretching feeling in Harry's stomach and a pounding in his chest as the man stared him down. He knew this man...But how--...

The man smiled lightly and spoke in a clear, but slightly weak voice.

"Harry."

Harry cocked his head sideways, examining the tall dark figure hunched in the center of the room; the vile, which was now laying on its side and glowing patheticly, only inches away from the man's feet. The man's shoulders heaved as heavy breaths protruded from between his thin lips.

"P-P--Professor?"

"No need to call me that now. Just call me Severus."

Snape straightened up even more, apparently relieved that Harry hadn't attacked him. Meanwhile, Harry slowly backed up, nearly knocking over a lamp on his bed side table.

"What happened?", Snape asked, suddenly sounding worried. But before Harry could say anything, Snape had reached down for the vile, and was raising it in front of Harry.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?". This question didn't take Harry by surprise merely because he, truthfully, had no idea, but rather because it was the first time he had ever heard that unmistakenable voice say the word "Potter" without even a hint of loathing.

"N-no..."

Snape began to pace, then paused, staring intently at the vile in his hand. He rolled around in his palm, then said cooly, "This is a Vensil Vile."

Harry stood dumbfounded.
"A--a what?"

"A Vensil Vile--", Snape sighed slightly before continuing. "It's clearly the reason I'm back", he added as an afterthought.

Harry didn't understand, but couldn't find words to question Snape. Catching the hint, Snape kept explaining.

"Vensil Viles are very magical items. Designed to revive the spirit that donated its thoughts and memories to it when it died off. I take it you used this when I gave you my memories?"

Snape was strangely sounding as if he was simply explaining why one and two made three, and was now asking Harry what that made four and five equal.

Harry nodded. Snape smiled briefly but a look of confusion spread throughout his younger-looking face.

"But how did you get it?"

Harry racked his memory, then remembered.

"Hermione. She happened to have it when we found---when we found you." Harry's eyes were suddenly stinging. His mind was flooding with the memories of that horrible night--his very last night at Hogwarts. He could almost hear the explosions and screams as wand fire shot in every direction. He saw Nagini, slithering up to Snape, biting him...
"Ahhh. I see... Well, it certainly looks like Ms. Granger was the smarted witch of her age. I would have never suspected one of her kind to be as smart as her...", Snape said in an undertone. Harry had no doubt what Snape meant by "one of her kind"-- he was obviously refraining from calling her a Mudblood. "But where she got it, I can't guess. Never the less--" He looked back up at Harry, a strange gleam forming in his dark eyes. "Vensil viles can only be activated when someone is deeply missing the being who's memories once dwelled within it."

Harry felt his head going slightly warmer. He wouldn't say he was missing Snape, more thinking about him, about how he had always misjudged him, always thought he was evil, when he was really on the good side all along...

A sudden creak interupted Harry's thoughts. The bedroom door was opening slowly. Albus Severus wandered into the room, with his wand in one hand, and a book in the other.

Taking no notice whatsoever of Snape, he excitedly placed the book in the center of the carpet and gripped his wand readily.

"Dad, dad, look what I can do!!". Albus Severus swung his wand in a swishing motion, and shouted "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" The book hovered slightly above the carpet, then floated towards Harry's feet.

"Good, good, Albus," Harry said, forcing a smile apon his face. He insides were still churning, and now worse than ever. What would Snape say if he found out that Harry had named his son after him??

Snape was eyeing Albus Severus closely, but not in a threatening way. He looked thoughtful, almost loving, as he watched Albus Severus make the book bounce up and down above Harry's bed.

"You had a son?" Snape suddenly said, sounding distant.

"Yes," Harry said, sounding unintentionally defiant.

"And you named him Albus... Dumbledore would be proud."

Harry swallowed hard, biting back the urge to tell Snape Albus Severus' middle name, and finally the urge won the best of him.

"He's named after you, too."

These words seemed to break Snape's trance. He looked up at Harry, apparenty as lost for words as Harry had been when Snape had first emerged from the Vensil Vile. He looked from Harry to Albus Severus, who was still making the book float around the room, which had now gone back to normal lighting, feeding off the light posts outside. The greenish glow was almost completely gone, apart from the tint surrounding the lifeless vile, like an aura, on the floor.

"His name is Albus Severus."

At the mention of his name Albus Severus looked up, this time noticing Snape and starting a bit. But he simply smiled up at Snape, who's dark eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, his face expressionless. Snape turned to look at Harry, appearing to want to say something, but only gaped like a fish out of water. Harry straightened up and walked over to Snape, who's posture had dropped ever so slightly. He placed his hand on Snape's shoulder, looking down on the greasy black hair he had always found amusing as a child. Harry swallowed hard, picking his words carefully.

"You risked your life for me. More times than I can count. I figured you deserved something."

Snape, still staring intently at Albus Severus shifted slightly under Harry's hand. He cocked his head slightly to the side and said, in a weak, barely audible voice, "He has your eyes...".