...
Harry sat on a hard creaky bed, looking out a tiny window. He knew this had to be Severus' old room. It felt rather creepy, knowing his Potion Master used to sleep exactly in this spot when he was about Harry's age.
That was... weird, thought Harry about their emotional outburst; about their awkward apologies; about the feeling of Severus firm hand on his shoulder. He knew Snape loved his mother deeply, and he knew Dumbledore had made him promise not to sabotage his attempt to reconcile with her, nor to try to bring his dad into this messy equation. "Promise me you will give him a chance, Harry. Let your mother decide for herself. I can guarantee that you would end up having the best father anybody could have had," recalled Harry.
But Snape, as my dad? Harry felt his stomach turn. He couldn't swallow the idea. My dad is James Potter! For Merlin's Sake!, he bellowed inside his head. Harry knew he had never known the real James Potter. From what he had seen in other people's memories, his dad had always been the popular type: handsome, cool, charming, slightly arrogant,…and attention-craving. For a split second, Harry wondered if he, after all, had inherited any traits of his father at all besides the obvious looks.
Trying to shake the thought out of his head, Harry threw Severus' threat out the window and walked towards a small weather-beaten wooden writing desk. Without thinking, he slowly pulled the drawer open. Inside, he found piles of yellowed parchments with The Half Blood Prince's neat scribbles cramming the space. His attention moved on to the ones laid crumpled inside. It looked as if somebody had scrunched them but had no hearts to throw the useless sheets into the trash. Harry, true to his Gryffindor nature, reached for them. He pried open one and started reading:
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Dear Lily,
I know you might not even let this owl in, but I had to try. Please keep on reading, please. I am sorry. I didn't mean to call you that. I wanted to protect you, not the other way round. I saw you...smiled so I flipped –
...
The writing stopped. Harry reached for another one.
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YOU COLD-HEARTED WITCH!
WHY ARE YOU SO UNFORGIVING? How could you be so cold! I AM SORRY. I AM SORRY. I AM SORRY! I would use the blood quill to write it down a hundred thousand times if you want. I'll give up the whole thing with Mulciber. Just talk to me. Please. Lily, I can't go on like this. You're the only thing –
...
Harry looked at heaps of crumpled papers. He had never posted them…, thought Harry. He reached for the one looking the most damaged. It was scrunched into a tiny paper ball as if somebody had been trying to squeeze the life out of the wretched thing.
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Lily,
Please don't throw this away.
I love you.
...
Harry reached further inside the drawer. His finger felt a glossy paper. It was a photo. Of his mother and a dark-haired man who looked very similar to the one sitting downstairs. The only difference was the man in the photo was smiling warmly. His dark eyes fixed on her was twinkling like a midnight starry sky. His arm draped around her shoulder protectively. She was laughing. Her arms wrapped around his waist. They seemed to be standing in front of… Honeydukes, thought Harry incredulously. Snape and Honeydukes? That…doesn't even belong in the same sentence!
Harry couldn't help wondering if their courses of lives would have changed dramatically had Severus found the courage to post the last letter to his mother.
...
...
Sank in the couch alone staring at the flickering flame, Severus wondered if he should leave that night and let Harry wait alone. After all, he had been Harry's age when he had left Spinner's End to the Malfoy Manor. He didn't want to stay when Lily came for Harry. For it would be too excruciating to see her walking away...with Potter's son, leaving him alone in the dark again. Just one lifetime of torture is not enough for my crime? Severus wanted to roar aloud, cursing whoever that had sent him back.
Very well, he scowled at his fate. If my pain pleasures you up there, so be it. Severus made up his mind. After all, he had bared the burden of protecting Harry his whole previous life, just a couple more days could not make any difference. Let's see if I could die from these repeated blows...to my soul, sneered Severus bitterly.
The boy's face came to his mind. Severus let out a long sigh. The boy thanked me for what I had done, he thought incredulously. And he actually did apologize. For the first time in his life, Severus began to see Lily's heart inside Jame's splitting image. He didn't even mock my love…or my tears…for her.
A tap on the window woke Severus. He glanced outside. An owl, the only owl he knew he would never forget no matter how long it had been since its last visit, was pecking at his window. Lily's owl… Severus seemed confused. For a moment, he had feared it would be a howler. Seeing that the letter was her usual beige paper and the brown paper package that came with it looked harmless enough, he reached out to untie it from the owl's claw.
"Long time no see, Horus," Severus whispered. Before he could withdraw his hand, the owl nipped his long finger hard. Severus hissed in pain. Even her owl hates me. Great.
Severus had expected the worst. He supposed the letter's content would be something about her regretting that forgiveness was too difficult a task; that she wished him well with whatever he had chosen to do but there would be no space for him in her life. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, and read.
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Dear Sev,
We need to talk.
Meet me at our spot by the lake at dawn tomorrow.
Don't bring Harry yet. Don't tell him about our meeting. Tell him I'll come and see him.
Yours, Lily
PS. I believe Harry needs to eat and I'm sure your kitchen is well-stocked if he was a termite. Make use of the package.
...
Severus read and re-read the letter for the umpteenth times. She called me 'Sev', he beamed with amazement. He tried not to read too much into her Yours, but his heart could not help fluttering. Stupid fool, that was a polite way to end a letter. Besides, who knows what she is going to say. She might even tell that arrogant 'toerag' of her to stage an ambush on me, and I'd be thrown right back in that fifth year saga again!. But Severus couldn't care less. For she still called him Sev and he was going to see her again very soon.
Severus turned his attention to the package. The moment it had made contact with a tip of his finger, the brown paper package shook and span rapidly. Suddenly, it transformed itself into a white linen tablecloth, hovering on it were a loaf of warm fresh baguette, two small bowls of French onion soup, two plates of generous slices of roasted beefs, and a jar…of stuffed pickled olives.
A small grin crept onto the corner of Severus' mouth. She remembers, he beamed. A surge of warmth rushed back through his veins. Lily hated pickled olives. Severus knew that. But there it was, hovering over the table, his favourite thing to eat that only she knew. Reds inside Greens... Gryffindor and Slytherin...
Severus looked at the feast in front of him and smiled, If this is your cunning attempt to start mending the wound between me and Potter, you should be in Slytherin, Lily.
...
