A/N: I'm going to add just a little bit of past Severus/Regulus just because I'm so fascinated by them both and how they changed. There won't be any actual slash and the emphasis will still be on his past friendship with Lily.

I combined a few chapters to make them longer so this will now be 54 chapters instead of 58 (and I might make it even shorter).

Thanks so much for reading!

Snape spent most of the Christmas holidays holed up in his room reading, as he usually did, but by the last night he was restless and walked the empty corridors alone.

He'd walked these corridors many nights with his friends, Avery and Mulciber and Evan Rosier and Regulus Black. Late at night when the fire burned low they'd sneak off into empty rooms and practice curses and imagine what it would be like when they got their Death Eater robes. They'd even had their own secret society, Skull and Serpent, a bit stupid when he thought of it now, but there'd been something so thrilling about it, sneaking off into empty rooms and practicing those forbidden spells, feeling their power shoot down his arm, their potency growing every time he did them. His parents wouldn't protect him, his teachers wouldn't protect him, Dumbledore wouldn't protect him, but he would protect himself, and he damn well had.

Those boys had been like his brothers, maybe more than that. Ever since he'd died Snape had buried the memory Regulus, how he used to tag along behind him, how he used to look at him, how he'd casually lean over and brush against him when they studied together in the evenings. But the memories surfaced at strange times, like when he smelled old books or when he went off to one of their old haunts somewhere for a drink or when he walked the corridors alone at night.

But what had it lead to? Lily was dead, Regulus was dead, the Dark Lord was gone and the Death Eaters scattered. And yet what choice did he have, really? He didn't see how it could've been any different.

He was so deep in his thooughts he didn't see Professor Sprout at first. He'd walked right by the staff room without seeing it.

"Evening, Professor Snape," she said her usual relentlessly cheerful way. "Won't you join us for a game of cards?"

Snape nearly opened his mouth to say no, but he didn't really have anything else to do, and thought he could use a distraction.

"Oh. Well...I suppose," he said. He followed her into the staff room.

Flitwick, McGonagall, Kettleburn and Hagrid sitting around a wooden table, along with, for what reason he had no idea, Professor Trelawney, who was wearing about a hundred necklaces and a long pink shawl. He narrowed his eyes at her as he sat down. He hadn't had to see her since that night in the Hog's Head, and he'd hoped like hell he'd never have to see her again.

Sprout pulled out her wand and tapped a deck of cards, which immediately began dealing themselves. "We were just about to start another round of three-card Brag," she said.

Kettleburn took a bag of Dragon's Breath-flavoured crisps and dumped them into a bowl before passing them around. When they'd made their way to Snape he scooped up a handful and shoved them into his mouth. They weren't bad, but he hoped they didn't make him start breathing fire or some such nonsense.

"Ante up everyone," said Sprout. Snape put his chips on the table, and the cards were dealt. He decided to fold, and soon it was just McGonagall and Trelawney left.

"I'll see," said Trelawney, putting her chips in.

"But surely you could do that already, Sybill," said McGonagall. Snape met her eye at and nearly smiled at this.

"The Inner Eye," Trelawney said, pulling her shawl more tightly around her and looking affronted, "does not concern itself with such mundane things as games." She turned her cards over and McGonagall took the pot.

"Well, I suppose it would explain why you didn't see that coming," said Snape. He shared a glance with McGonagall again and he could've sworn McGonagall's mouth twitched.

Trelawney fixed her magnified eyes on him. "I would fold on the next round, if I were you," she said to him in a lofty voice, as though she hadn't heard him.

"I'll decide that," Snape told her. He had a middling hand, a flush, but decided to stay in, betraying no hint of his bluff. Soon only he and McGonagall were left.

"I'll see," she said, throwing her chips down. Snape showed his hand. She had beaten it with three of a kind. Snape threw an irritated look at Trelawney as she took the pot and another round was dealt.

"You wouldn't happen to have brought any of your dandelion wine, Hagrid?" Sprout asked over her cards, one hand in the bowl of crisps.

"Got it right here, Pomona," he said, pulling several bottles out of his coat. They were filled with deep yellow liquid.

Back his school days Snape and his friends had laughed the groundskeeper off as a big oaf, and Snape had never gotten to know him well. He found it jarring to think of this wild, boorish man doing something as skillful as brewing wine, but when Snape took some and tasted it, he had to admit that it was decent.

"Well, it's down to the two of us again," said McGonagall, looking over her cards at him. He only had a pair of sevens and she'd already called his bluff once, but he thought he might away with it again.

"I'll see," she said, throwing her chips down. Snape did the same, and the cards were shown. She'd beaten him with a flush. The woman was nobody's fool, he had to admit that much.

"I see empty pockets in your future," Trelawney said to him. Snape took a long drink of his wine to stop himself glaring at her.

Bowls of crisps and plates of pork scratchings were making their way around, and Kettleburn lit his pipe and the room was clouded in a haze of smoke. Snape was struck the the sudden realization that he was not, in fact, miserable, and leaned back in his chair a bit as he took another sip of Hagrid's dandelion wine.

Several rounds later the laughter and conversation was flowing more freely and getting louder, and Snape was becoming seriously annoyed with Trelawney, who kept exclaiming over his cards and going on about him mending something. He began to think more of his quiet quarters, and when he'd lost a pot to Flitwick, he drained his wine glass and set it down, then excused himself.

"Goodnight, Severus," said Sprout. "I hope you'll join us again."

"Goodnight, Professor," he said. He cast a brief glance around the room and McGonagall gave him a small nod, and he could have sworn the corners of her mouth lifted.

He made his way back to his room, and only once he was there did he realize that his pockets were indeed empty of coins. The woman was positively unnerving.

He was still annoyed about it the next night, and when his room got too confining he decided to go for a walk in the grounds.

The moon was full, and the snow was so bright it seemed to glow with its own light. The grounds were so quiet and still he could hear his own breathing and the stars looked closer somehow. Snape looked up at the sky and his tension faded away.

When he looked back down he saw two figures in the the distance, two people walking arm in arm. Thinking it might be students out for a walk in the grounds, he strode over towards them, prepared to issue the arrogant little beasts some detentions.

They'd stopped to look at the castle and he watched as the taller of the two pulled the other close and they began to kiss, and when they'd pulled apart they kept their faces close together, foreheads touching.

It wasn't until he was about a dozen yards away that he realized they weren't students at all. They were McGonagall and Elphinstone. His face grew hot, knowing he'd walked in on something private, but when McGonagall saw him standing there she simply nodded and smiled, looking as though she hadn't a care in the world. They turned and walked on and she put her head on Elphinstone's shoulder and Elphinstone put his arm around her and Snape was stricken with some strange longing he couldn't put words to.

He stood there a long time, watching them go. The grounds were cool and white but out of the corner of his eye he saw a low warm light coming from the greenhouses, and he remembered he needed some ingredients for the upcoming term.

When he walked into the greenhouse his ears were filled with the sound of soft, low singing and he recognized snatches of words from an old lullaby. He had the distinct impression Sprout was singing her plants to sleep.

"Evening, Professor Snape," Sprout said when he walked inside, as casually as though she'd been expecting him.

"Good evening," he said. "I was wondering if I might get some fire seeds?"

She dusted her hands off and wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving a large streak of dirt there, but Snape rather suspected she wouldn't care much if she knew. "This way," she said, leading him into one of the other greenhouses.

He'd always been fascinated by the firebushes, which burned for their entire existence. Even with his heavy cloak on he was chilled and he stepped closer to the fire, holding his hands over it to warm them. Sprout hit one with a freezing charm and extracted enough seeds to fill a small sack.

"This enough for you?"

"That should be enough. Thank you P-" he had started to say her name but couldn't quite bring himself to do it-"Professor," he finished.

She didn't seem to notice this. "You're very welcome," she said.

He noticed that she hadn't made a move to leave the greenhouse, and he stayed where he was, putting his hands in the pockets of his robes. The low-burning fires were their only light and their orange-red reflections played along the windows of the greenhouse.

"That fire feels nice, doesn't it?" said Sprout, holding out her hands in front of it. Snape made a murmur of agreement.

"It took me awhile to get used these Scottish winters," she went on. "I grew up in the south of England, you know."

It was a startling to think of Professor Sprout as a child. He imagined a tiny girl with flyaway hair, barefoot and covered in dirt. "Where about?" he asked her.

"The Cotswolds. Beautiful place. Yourself?"

Snape tensed. He didn't like anyone to know about his childhood. "The Midlands," he murmured, wondering a bit at the contrast between the rolling hills and tidy stone cottages of the Cotswolds and the soot-streaked smokestacks and filthy rivers of Cokeworth. Would they be different people, if they'd grown up in different places? He didn't know.

"How long have you been a teacher here?" he asked her abruptly, changing the subject.

"Oh, I've lost count already. About twenty-five years now." She looked at him and smiled. "You're doing well, you know, for only having been here a few years yourself."

Snape flushed red and couldn't stop himself smirking awkwardly, the way he always did whenever someone gave him a compliment.

"Thank you," he said, and immediately realized how stiff he must have sounded. But perhaps Professor Sprout hadn't noticed, because she gave him a warm look and they stood there watching the fire in comfortable silence.

"How is the Wiggentree growing?" he said after awhile.

"Beautifully," she said, rather enthusiastically. "Why don't we have a look at it?"

He followed her to her office, which was in another greenhouses, and saw that the tree was nearly as tall as he was. He ran his fingers along the bark, knarled and rough with whorls and jagged edges. Just right for potion making.

"It's in excellent condition," he said. "Do you mind if I collect some?"

"Certainly," she said.

Snape drew his wand out of the pocket of his robes and, holding it steady in his hand, sliced off a small patch of bark.

He tucked it into his robes and bid her goodnight, thinking it had been a decent enough distraction.

Graihagh's dad had never been all that comfortable in Diagon Alley, so it'd been easy for her to convince to him to go for a drink in a pub in Muggle London while she did her shopping. After she'd gotten her money changed over she stocked up on extra Potions ingredients at the apothecary and went to Madam Malkin's and bought two dress robes, a long flowy midnight blue and a silky green. She might've been Muggle-born, but she was going to look like a pureblood, even if it cost her all her spending money.

The first night of the new term, she sat down beside Milo in squashy sofas by the fire where they'd been sitting the last few months.

"How was your holiday?" she asked him.

Milo shrugged, and his face didn't show much emotion. "Yours?"

"Same as yours I reckon," she said, and their eyes met a moment before Milo looked away.

"So can you make me more Stregthening Solution?"

Graihagh had known this was coming, had known Milo and Thorfinn would be on her about it the second they got back, but she wasn't going to give in this time. Only a few weeks before Snape had trapped her in his office, looking angrier than she'd seen him in a long time, ranting about her damaging Slytherin's reputation and dropping all kinds of hints that she'd be expelled if she ever pulled something like that again. She was going places, she was determined of that, but as much as she hated to admit it, she needed Snape to get there, and she intended to stay on his good side.

"I can't," she said.

Milo looked pained. "You don't have to give it to Thorfinn," he said. "Just to me. No one will know."

Graihagh stared ahead and didn't say anything.

"Please?"

He was pleading with her. Graihagh turned to look at him. She didn't see how she could leave him like this. "I'll think about it."

Milo seemed satisfied. He sank back into the sofa. They were quiet awhile, until Thorfinn and another boy came to sit beside her, the same seventh-year who had once cornered her outside the castle after she'd caught him doing whatever it was he was doing deep in the dungeons. She knew him now, Livia's older brother, who played Keeper.

"I've got a request for you," he said, handing her a slip of paper. There was a recipe on it, for Polyjuice Potion. Graihagh knew this potion; she'd read about it once after Snape mentioned it in class.

"I made a mess of mine in class," he said. "But I thought you might be able to do it."

Graihagh scanned the list of ingredients. Most of the things she had, but the apothecary in Diagon Alley didn't carry Boomslang Skin or powdered Bicorn horn. There was only one way to get them, and if she was caught...she didn't want to think about it.

But she saw the way they were looking at her, saw the chance to prove herself. Maybe Snape was just bluffing, he wouldn't expel someone from his own house. She sat and toyed with the parchment in her hands a long time, thinking.

"What do you need it for, anyway?"

"Nothing major. Just for a few laughs."

"Well, I can't promise anything," she said, embarassed at how quickly her resolve to get on Snape's good side had vanished. "But I'll have a crack at it."

"Cheers," said the seventh-year, and he went to join his friends. Thorfinn gave her one of his cocky grins and put his stocking feet up on the low table in front of them.

"You do know that's disgusting, don't you?" said Livia, who was sitting next to him.

He grinned at her and put his feet in her lap instead. She shrieked and laughed and pushed them off, and Graihagh laughed with her.

Livia gave her a sharp, appraising look and eyed the blue dress robes Graihagh had changed into after dinner.

"Nice robes," she said, and Graihagh couldn't detect any sarcasm in her voice.

"Thanks" she said. "I like yours too."

Livia's expression was hard to read. She seemed wary, cautious, but at least she was talking to her."Did you have a good holiday?"

"Yeah, it was alright," said Graihagh, hoping she sounded sincere. "You?"

"It was good." There was something in Livia's voice that told her it hadn't really been great either, and Graihagh remembered her father was in Azkaban.

Thorfinn put his arms around her and she stared shrieking and laughing again, and Graihagh bent down to study the recipe some more, but she couldn't stop herself smiling a bit.

There was still the problem of how to get the ingredients though, and she sat up late into the night, until the fire had burned down to glowing coals, playing every possible scenario in her mind. She'd have to either lure him out of his office long enough to duck in or else sneak out of class and hope it wasn't locked, and neither sounded too appealing. She rummaged through her potions kit, eyes so heavy she could barely keep them open, until she found what she was looking for. She hated the thought of it, but it was the only way.

She was shaking when she woke up the next morning, and scarcely paid any attention to anything or ate any of her breakfast or lunch. She was the last to queue up for Potions, sweaty fist clenched around a wad of Doxy eggs, and when everyone else was inside she shoved them into her mouth, trying not to think too hard about where they'd come from and what they'd have turned into.

She got to work on her Ageing Potion and kept her head down, and they were about twenty minutes into the lesson when her stomach lurched and she shot to her feet, breathing hard to stop herself vomiting.

"Can I be excused sir? I'm not feeling well."

Snape looked up from the book he was reading. "You look fine to me," he said, turning back to his book. "Get back to work."

Graihagh had just opened her mouth to protest when nature intervened and she threw up all over his floor.

Snape slammed his book shut. "Hospital wing, Miss Corlett," he snapped. "And quickly. If you throw up in this classroom one more time you can come back here for your detention and clean it up."

Graihagh picked up her schoolbag and rushed out of the classroom, shutting the door behind her. Stepping lightly, to make her footsteps quiet, she crept down the corridor to his office.

But there was one problem she had completely overlooked. She still needed to throw up. And doing it all over Snape's office would be something of a giveaway.

Her stomach lurched again and she swallowed hard but she knew she couldn't stop it. She did the only thing she could think of, and threw up in her schoolbag, all over her books and parchment. She couldn't do cleansing charms all that well, but she'd worry about that later.

Her fingers were stiff as she opened the cupboards and she was in such a rush she barely read the words on the labels. She had to stop and slow down and read through them again, until she found what she was looking for, Boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn. She stopped to throw up again, then pulled a jar out of her bag and stuffed them in, taking extra in case she messed up the potion the first try.

She was just outside the classroom when she had to throw up a fourth time. She opened up her bag and retched and she knew she was making way too much noise and she pictured those long thin hands pushing the door open, thought she heard the creak of the hinges, but when she looked up everything was quiet and still. She sighed relief, shaking a bit, and rushed to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping her there for the rest of her lessons, which was fine with her. When she'd put her books away she walked through the dungeon corridors, looking for someplace, anyplace, she could make the potion without anyone finding out. She was walking along a dark, damp, little-used corridor when she found the storage closet.

It was a cramped space, dark and mouldy-smelling, but maybe that was a good sign, it couldn't have been used much. She went back to get her cauldron and when she'd made a makeshift table out of an upturned crate she set to work stewing lacewing flies, only stopping to go to dinner because she was too hungry to focus anymore.

She sat down next to Milo in the Great Hall.

"Feeling better?" he said.

She was wrung-out and shaky from not having eaten, but her stomach was comfortably still.

"Yeah," she said. "And I got the ingredients and found a place to make the potion." She dumped some ketchup on her shepherd's pie. "I hope it's this works, if that greasy bastard catches me I'm fucked."

Milo didn't say anything, just picked at his shepherd's pie. Graihagh thought there was something was bothering him, but she knew he'd never tell her if there was, so she didn't ask.

They were making their way down the dungeon steps when Graihagh heard a voice from somewhere behind her.

"Cadere!"

Milo stumbled and fell face first into the stairs, nearly smashing his face. Graihagh pulled out her wand and whipped around and she'd just began to mouth the incantation when there was a low guttural noise, like a trapped animal, and before Graihagh understood what was happening Milo shot to his feet and lunged for McCulloch, teeth bared and fists clenched, biting and punching and growling like something feral, something possessed. Fenwick grabbed him from behind and tried to pull him away, but he couldn't do it.

Graihagh went rigid. She'd never seen anyone like this. She was afraid to touch him.

"What is all this?"

Before anyone could answer, Snape caught hold of Milo. He was a scrawny man, arms like sticks, but he pulled Milo away as easily as though he were a small child.

Milo didn't seem to know what was going on, his face was deep red and he was struggling to break free of Snape's grip. Snape was holding Milo from behind, and Graihagh saw his arms tighten around him.

Snape glared at McCulloch and Fenwick. "One hundred points from Gryffindor. Now get out of my sight."

They took off, pale and shaken, and Graihagh wondered how far and fast the story of Milo's attack would spread.

Milo was still struggling in Snape's arms.

"It's going to be alright," Snape murmured, and Graihagh wondered if he was keeping his voice low on purpose, to calm him. "You're alright."

Milo was breathing hard but his arms and legs went slack and he stopped fighting. He gasped for air and Graihagh saw that his face was wet.

A shudder coursed through Snape, and his mouth thinned as though he'd tasted something bitter. Graihagh was sure he was going to let go, but he didn't. He kept holding on to Milo as everything he'd been keeping in came out of him, and Graihagh just stared as this strange, evil man held her friend while he cried, held him until his gasping stopped and his breathing slowed.

When Milo was quiet and still Snape let go. "Go to the hospital wing," he said, his voice strangely, jarringly gentle. "Have Madam Pomfrey give you a calming draught."

Milo nodded, and Graihagh walked beside him as they made their way to the hospital wing.

The potion worked straight away, though by the time they got to the common room after dinner, Graihagh could sense it wearing off. Milo started to fidget in his seat and tapped his fingers against the sofa.

Graihagh glanced up at the clock on the mantel and saw that she was nearly late to meet Cate, but she wondered if she should leave him the way he was. She turned to him and lowered her voice. "Will you be alright here?"

Milo made a face. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

He hated to be pitied, Graihagh knew this about him, and she didn't press it. "Yeah, I don't know, stupid question. I'm going to go meet Cate, alright?"

Milo gave a non-committal grunt and opened a bottle of pumpkin juice.

Graihagh dashed up the dungeon steps, trying not to think about anything, but she couldn't get the sight of Snape out of her mind, Snape holding Milo while he cried, Snape showing them how to do a Shield Charm. And she'd gone and stolen from him.

"Sorry," she breathed when she sat down next to Cate on the steps. They'd only just patched things up, and she hoped this wouldn't annoy her.

"No problem," said Cate, handing Graihagh a bag of Every-Flavour Beans. She stuffed some into her mouth and Graihagh wondered how she could stand all those flavours mixing together. "You all right? How was your holiday?"

Graihagh shrugged. "It was ok, I suppose."

Cate looked at her closely, but didn't say anything.

She chatted away about her holidays, but all Graihagh could think about was about her mother, and Milo's meltdown, and the potion beginning to brew in the storage closet.

"You don't need to hide anything from me," said Cate.

Graihagh shrugged again. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Graihagh snapped. "There's nothing wrong, so just drop it."

Cate looked at her a long time. She lifted her arm, then seemed to change her mind and set it at her side again. Before Graihagh knew what was happening Cate had wrapped her arms around her.

Graihagh stiffened. Then she turned to her and put her head on her shoulder.