A/N: Hi guys! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up. Senior year of college just started back up for me and I've been so so busy! Between writing for the college paper and classes I've barely had a moment to myself! Hopefully after the craziness passes I'll be able to write more. Either way, thanks for sticking with me!

And of course, gigantic gratitude to all the lovely readers/reviewers :) Now, onward!

The Dark Lord

June, 1973

"I think I'll try out for the Quidditch team next year," said Regulus loftily, flipping through his Transfiguration book.

Snape frowned beside him. "I didn't know you were any good," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I'm quite good," sneered Regulus. "After all, I have been playing with my cousins since I was little. You can always count on them never to play fair, especially Bellatrix and Narcissa."

Trying to hide his look of envy, Snape turned back to practicing his charms spell. "What position?"

"Seeker," said Regulus without missing a beat. "Definitely the most important."

Snape grunted.

"Everyone knows it's true," Regulus said. "But I suppose it wouldn't matter to you, you're not very good at flying."

At this, Snape turned red. "I'm perfectly fine at flying," he said, gritting his teeth.

Regulus raised an eyebrow, as if to say that everything he had heard from the other students suggested otherwise.

The truth was, most Slytherins were born to purebloods, which meant they spent their childhood relishing in their magical abilities. No doubt their parents had bought them brooms and encouraged them to fly and play Quidditch.

Snape vividly remembered the day his mother had tried to buy him a broom. It was an old one that she had picked up at a second-hand shop, the one time a year she snuck out to Diagon Alley when his father was not at home. It didn't matter that the wood on the handles were chipping and the end of the broom looked slightly burnt. It was the first magical object that was his, all his.

He was six, and he had taken the old broom to the tall grasses down by the pond at Spinner's End. There he spent the day, hovering ever so slightly above the ground while his mother looked nervously around for muggles. He was inept – he had no balance, but the sheer joy of feeling unrestrained from the magical world for once in his life made him happier than he had felt in a long time.

Then, his father found out.

It was one of the worst nights of his life. The shouting escalated into screams. Bottles smashed, furniture was thrown across the tiny living room. Bellowing profanities in a slightly inebriated rage, his father stomped into the closet and wrenched out the broom.

Snape watched in horror as he set it on fire.

From then on no magical objects were ever seen in the house, and none was his until he got his letter, and his mother, in both pride and envy, gave him a few galleons to spend at Diagon Alley.

"Slughorn's having another party," came Regulus's voice, snapping Snape out of his thoughts. "Did Evans invite you to this one too?"

"The last one was a waste of time," said Snape scathingly, relishing at the slight frown that came across Regulus's face. "I wouldn't want to go again, even if she did invite me."

"Suit yourself," Regulus shrugged. "I heard the captain of Puddlemere United will be there."

With a slight twitch, Snape turned back to his book, ignoring him completely.

Final exams were quickly approaching, and the second-years spent most of their time studying – those that wanted to do well, anyway. Lily spent most of her time in the library, so much so that Snape rarely got to see her.

Many professors had warned them that these set of exams would be much more difficult than last years. Some, like James Potter, quickly brushed this off and spent the days zooming around the castle grounds on his broom, wreaking havoc on those trying to study underneath the shady trees, until Professor McGonagall became fed up and took his broom away.

Others were beginning to show signs of panic. Peter Pettigrew, who was considered lucky to have gotten by first year exams, was seen in hysterics around the castle, often with Remus Lupin consoling him.

Days passed by tensely, exacerbated by the testy fifth-years studying for their O. W. Ls, who tended to snap at anyone breaking their concentration. Whenever Lily felt like her eyes blurred from reading, bloodshot from lack of sleep, she could always count on Snape to take her up to the Astronomy tower. Those moments spent underneath the starry sky felt surreal, as if they were living another life entirely.

"There's been rumors, haven't there," Lily said quietly as they lay on the cold concrete floor of the tower, facing skyward. "I've heard them from everyone. This dark lord – they say he's gathering followers. They say he's getting stronger."

Snape was silent; his face was unreadable in the dark night.

"Sev, are you even listening to me?" Lily crossed her arms. "What have your friends been saying about it?"

"Not much," Snape grunted.

This was a lie. It was all the Slytherins had been talking about for weeks, mostly led by a few of the older ones who claimed they were to go join him after graduation. Snape kept mostly to himself and tried not to get involved in the conversations, but was unable to help himself overhearing the others.

"He's definitely got the right idea," Avery was saying earlier in the week. "Father always said the wizarding world has been tarnished by filthy-blooded muggles… They're weakening our magic."

"Any idea on where he is?" came Mulciber's voice.

"They say he's hiding, biding his time… just like Snape said." The two cast a furtive glance at Snape, who pretended not to hear. "It's about time we're rid of the likes of Evans…"

Clenching his fist, Snape had nevertheless continued his nonchalance, burying his hooked nose deeper into his book.

"Sev. Sev, what's wrong?"

Lily's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Nothing," he said quickly.

"Voldemort, isn't it? That's what he's calling himself?"

Snape frowned. "You shouldn't use his name…"

"Why?" Lily protested. "It's just a name, I'm not going to be scared off by a bloody name…"

"It's bad luck," interjected Snape.

"Says who?"

"Says – the other Slytherins," Snape said hesitantly.

She looked triumphant. "So you have heard about it from your friends."

Color flooded his cheeks. "Let's not talk about this anymore," he said quickly. "We've got exams in a few days."

"But isn't he afraid of Dumbledore?" Lily pressed on. "Hogwarts will be safe, won't it?"

"I don't know!" snapped Snape, springing up, his cloak cape-like in the night breeze. Something in Lily mentioning the safety of Hogwarts hit him the hardest.

Lily looked up at him, surprised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"I'm not." He was turned away from her. "Let's please not talk about this anymore."

"Okay," said Lily.

As he slowly sat back down, they shared a moment of silence, each staring up at the blanket of stars. She stole a glance at his face. It was paler than she had ever remembered.

"How has it been two years already?" she said lightly, letting out a laugh. "Gosh, we only dreamed about this place when we were younger..."

Snape almost smiled. "I told you. Amazing, isn't it."

"I definitely thought you were a bit insane," Lily giggled. "Although, everything you told me sounded too good to be true back then." She sighed. "I want exams to be over, but I don't want to leave here..."

Snape turned away from her, and immediately she felt guilty - as much as she hated home, she knew he had it worse.

"I should probably get going," said Snape presently. "I have a lot of studying to do."

Lily looked disappointed. "Okay," she said.

Simultaneously they stood and Snape made for the double doors, but before he could take two steps he felt Lily's hand on his arm. "Sev, I'm sorry for bringing up home," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry again for bringing it up now."

"It's alright," he said.

She gave his arm a small squeeze. He shot her a weary but genuine smile.

"Come on, I'll walk you back," he said. Together the two departed the astronomy tower as the double doors swung shut behind them.

Years Later, Hogwarts

Snape kept it hidden away, in a locked drawer of his desk. It was more than a letter to him. Long after she had gone it was proof – that she had lived and was more to him than just a vivid memory.

He remembered the pain he had felt after Dumbledore was blasted off the astronomy tower, and how, for the second time in his life, he had almost betrayed his true feelings to Voldemort – but he forced himself to keep it in, keep his face free of any emotion. He had become very good at it.

He remembered how quickly he had rushed to Grimmauld Place, the very next day. His tongue was tied by Moody's curse and he couldn't relay any information back to the dark lord… but curiosity drew him further into the house.

Maybe, he had thought, there's more information here that I must destroy before the death eaters might find it…

He went room to room, overturning furniture, combing every inch. He stopped briefly at Regulus's bedroom door, a haunted look on his gaunt and darkened face, and remembered the one true friend he had had at Hogwarts, other than Lily. Ironically, Regulus ended up working against the dark lord too, and paid with his life before Snape could talk him out of it.

We were similar, me and him, he thought grimly. A twinge of regret filled him, and followed by a sense of foreboding. Nobody that defied the dark lord lived long.

Leaving the room alone, he next came upon the room which contained the Black family tapestry. His long thin fingers traced along the lineage of the golden lines, stopping occasionally on a small burnt hole where names were blasted off the tapestry. "Bellatrix," he muttered, his dark eyes roving over the names. "Narcissa… Lucius Malfoy…"

So this was how the purebloods lived. They traced their ancestries back to ancient times, to old magical blood. The Princes used to be one of those families, until his mother disgraced them by marrying a muggle… Snape had never known the rest of his family. Perhaps he and his mother too had been blasted off an ancient family tapestry.

Mind full of thoughts, Snape exited the room, and found himself in front of Sirius Black's door. For a moment Snape had the strong urge to set flames to the room, but he stopped himself. Cautiously he pushed open the door and stepped across the threshold.

The room was bright, and Snape shook his head in disgust at the Gryffindor hangings that adorned every inch of the walls. With rough force he opened the top drawer of Sirius's desk, throwing the pile of letters to the floor. He still had not forgiven or forgotten the teasings he endured, the humiliation, those years at Hogwarts. No matter what Dumbledore could say to him, Potter and Black remained arrogant bullies.

As he stooped down, something caught his eye. Within seconds his heart was pounding fast as he picked up from the floor a photograph. His hands trembled violently as he glanced at the picture of baby Harry, James Potter, and Lily.

Harry was on a broomstick, laughing as James chased him around. Lily was laughing, and her green eyes seemed to glow, even in the confines of a slightly faded photo.

"Lily," Snape whispered. For a moment it was as if she was still alive, full of joy, just as beautiful as he had ever remembered her.

Still shaking from head to foot Snape knelt on the ground, rummaging through the pile of letters. He finally found one addressed to Sirius from Lily, and pulled the parchment from the envelope. He stayed on the ground for what felt like hours, reading and rereading Lily's words as if they were addressed to him and not Sirius.

This must have been not long before her death, he thought. Again and again he read the letter, his hand tracing over her signature, his face ghostly pale. Before he knew it hot tears were dripping down the ends of his hooked nose, and within minutes not an inch of his face was dry.

Still clutching the letter in his hand, Snape sat back against the wall.

Lots of love,

Lily

She had written those words nearly eighteen years ago.

With a pang in his throat, it hit him right at that moment just how much he missed her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snape lifted himself off the ground. He had tucked the second page of the letter neatly into his robes. Then, he tore the photograph and kept the half where Lily was laughing, tucking that into his robes alongside the letter.

As he sat in his office now, Snape slowly unlocked the drawer. The moon glowed bright outside his window, illuminating his pale, sleepless face. With unsteady hands he retrieved the letter and the photograph of Lily, which looked much more worn than when he had first taken it from Grimmauld place.

There were few words on the page; by now he could recite the passage from memory. He loved her handwriting, neat and slightly slanted; it had been the same ever since she was at Hogwarts. Some nights he could imagine her, quill in hand, a smile on her lips as her writing moved across the parchment.

In the photograph, Lily was waving at him. Snape smiled ever so slightly as he glanced down at her beaming face. How he wished her last memory of him was something different...

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight, Snape sat, and though his hands shook his eyes never left her face. It was only after the morning sun rose blazing into the sky that he finally stood up, tucking the letter and the photograph carefully back into the drawer, making sure to lock it securely before he swept out of the room.