Chapter 1: The Silver Doe

August 2, 1995

Severus Snape

Severus Snape was having a miserable 'holiday'. At least during the school term he could count on the Dark Lord not to expect so much of him, but during the long, sweaty summer spent in Spinner's End, he found himself constantly at the beck and call of the snake-faced villain.

"Invent more spells, Ssseverus. Brew me potions, Sssseverus. Milk my bloody snake, Sssseverus." Snape snarled softly, slicing the newt spleen with a marked, yet controlled fury. As he added the ingredient to the bubbling cauldron at his elbow, he drew his ranting back into the safety of his own mind. 'It is times like this that I bitterly regret pledging myself to Dumbledore's service. He has no idea what he asks. And on top of that, I am guilt-ridden to keep an eye on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Vex-Me, Harry bloody Potter… even during the holidays.' He sighed softly, leaning his eye over to glance at his magical map of the Privet Drive neighbourhood. 'At least I don't have to watch him sit in a garden hedge for another two days yet.'

Now, that wasn't right…

Snape frowned, staring at the little spark on his map that had faded out, signalling an exiting apparition. An unscheduled one. The guard, whomever it was, had vanished, no one had appeared to have replaced him… the Potter boy was unprotected. Snape stared at the map for a few moments longer, yet no new marker appeared.

Leaving his potion to burble away to its destruction, Snape withdrew a shrunken notebook from the deep pockets in his robes, and enlarged it with a softly chanted, 'Engorgio'. Upon scrutinising the Order notebook that marked Potter's guard schedule, Snape was unsurprised to find that the unscheduled apparition came from none other than Mundungus Fletcher.

'Why Dumbledore trusts that blasted little fleabag is beyond me.' He raged, shrinking his notebook and map and tucking them into his thick black robes. He stopped, and let out a low chuckle that vibrated around the small room. 'Then, that's what the Order says about me all the time, isn't it?' he muttered to himself.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his long, greasy strands of raven hair. 'I suppose I'd better take up Dung's watch… for Lily's son, as always. And none of the Order have a map of Privet Drive as I do…'

Exiting his shabby house, he swiftly disillusioned himself and apparated into the most boring neighbourhood imaginable. Neatly clipped grass lawns, well-polished cars, and box-like houses with neatly curtained windows. Snape didn't really mind the organised nature of the street... if it wasn't for the sickening Muggle sense of ordinary that the street of Privet Drive was saturated in. Organised and ordinary… a sad confliction.

Well, there was someone in Privet Drive who was neither ordinary or organised. Swiftly locating Mrs. Figg on his map, Snape stalked over to her house, his nose twitching in distaste when he caught the stench of boiled carriage oozing warmly from the open front door. She was sitting on her front porch, her pale, thickly spectacled eyes anxious and wide as she absently stroked one of her hideous, half-Kneazle cats.

Softly stepping onto the porch and positioning himself behind her chair, Snape cancelled out his disillusion-charm, and rumbled softly, "Mrs. Figg. Are you aware that Potter is currently devoid of any magical protection?"

"Professor Snape!" She squawked, relief evident on her face. Leaping up and grasping his hands, she babbled, "Am I ever so glad to see you! He left! Mundungus left, and Vance isn't due to arrive for another five hours! I'm going to kill him when I get my hands on him."

Stiffly unhanded himself from the squib's grip, Snape returned, "I am afraid I shall get there before you, with regards to that particular honour. I have no desire to sacrifice my day guarding the boy, but, it appears that thanks to that filthy little cretin…" his lip curled sourly. "In any case, I shall go and find the boy, but you must contact Dumbledore and explain the situation. Try and get someone else to come, for I have neither the time nor inclination to remain here."

And with that, the Potions Master disillusioned himself once more, and swept away from the old lady's cabbage stinking porch. According to his map, the Potter boy was in the local playground with his Muggle cousin. 'Lazing around again. Typical, what else should I expect from a Potter?' he sneered inwardly, walking briskly towards the point on the map.

The figures were moving off, now, towards him. They cut off into an alley-way… 'Idiot. This is just the kind of place in which the Dark Lord could easily capture you.' Snape quickened his pace. According to the footprint patterns on the map, Potter and his cousin had stopped and were facing each other at the foot of the alley. There. Snape skidded sharply to a stand-still, pulling up the other end of the backstreet.

Two figures stood out starkly in the fading daylight… one tall and burly, and the other small and thin- Potter. And, if Snape's eyes weren't playing tricks on him, the boy had his wand pressed firmly into his fat relation's chest. 'Breaking the rules again, are we, Potter? Using magic on your Muggle cousin? Isn't there a law against that somewhere?"

But Snape's inward snarks were abruptly broken off as a chill slammed through his body, like ice water being trickled down his back. The evening purple-hued sky crashed into inky darkness, melting the pin-pricked stars and summer moon into obsidian night, and the street lights instantly shut off as if by a switch. The alley-way became as if an ice-box, icy mist wrapping around Snape like a black, frozen blanket.

Dementors.

Snape shuddered, unspeakable fear gripping him. Here? Did Voldemort send them? He had more reason than most to fear the spectres, having spent two long weeks in Azkaban pending his trial. The memories of that nightmare began flooding through him, visions of being curled up in that little cell, his Occlumenic shields slowly shredding away with each passing hour… and every time the dementor poked a hole in his shields, he was assaulted by his past … He hadn't faced dementors since then until that horrid year… the year of Sirius Black's escape. Savagely, he shoved those memories away, and steadied his hammering pulse. The past was no aid to him in the present… not when he had to once again save the blasted Potter boy. Jamming down his iron mental shields, Snape withdrew his wand. He could see the oily black shadows of the dementors attacking the boys in distance… the Muggle boy falling… 'Now or never, Snape.' He snapped to himself. 'Perhaps, if I play this right, I can remove myself before the boy sees.'

Now, for his happy memory… those precious, happy moments… only the purest and most perfect would do.

When it wasn't fair, when there was only pain, when he had nothing, when he was open and waiting. And she was there. She was always there. And she took everything away except herself. Her ginger hair glowed with the warmth of the sun and her eyes were calm and she was only saying kind things. It didn't matter what had happened before, the torment and the quarrels, nor did it matter that these same things would follow and wrest this moment away from the path of his future. They sat, the two of them, happy with their books and their silence and their friendship, stretched out on a rug near the river. They were young back then, but he remembered that moment because she told him to. "Don't forget this moment, Sev." She grabbed his hand, little girl, thirteen, full of dreams and faith and she still had a dusting of freckles across her nose. "We will always be like this, as long as we always remember."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Snape roared, disillusioning involuntarily, his wand arm stretching high in the air. A beautiful silver doe soared from the tip of his wand, trailing blue-white light behind her as she sprinted on elegant cloven hooves towards the frantic pair of boys. Within moments, both dementors were simultaneously thrown backwards, and, hunched over, bested, they fled into the clearing sky. The chill began to dissuade, and the lights flickered back on. The trees rustled as a warm breeze filled the alley-way, catching up the scents of fresh leaves and jasmine. They were gone.

And Snape's doe, her deed done, trotted back towards him, casting her light onto his gaunt face before dissolving into mist.

"S…. SNAPE?"

The Potions Master groaned. The boy had seen him.

August 2, 1995

Harry Potter

Harry had been terrified, the chilled feeling of despair crunching into his skull with a vice-grip he could hardly shake. With trembling fingers gripped around his wand, his lips had been formed to attempt to pronounce the Patronus charm when he heard it. From the other end of the alley, a powerful, thundering cry…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

And the galloping little doe, beautiful, fierce and strong, had flown towards him, throwing up a shield of silver light. The dementors had been both tossed backwards, as if having been blasted by a cannonball. The doe advanced threateningly on them, as daring them to fight back, but the hooded spectres instead turned and fled, swooping away and fading into the black of the sky.

When the mist cleared and the dementor's shade lifted from the alleyway, Harry cast his head about to see who was the owner of that exquisite Patronus. The doe was skipping away from him, heading straight towards a dark solitary figure that stood at the end of the alley. Then, upon reaching the middle of the street, she halted, her illuminances revealing just who that figure was. Then, she scattered into silver upon the ash-pelted alley.

There was no mistaking that visage. Ghost-white, gaunt, with a hooked nose and hollow eye-sockets, long dark hair hanging like a curtain around his frown-furrowed face.

"S… SNAPE?"

Harry couldn't believe it… what was his hated Potions professor doing here? This was somehow even more shocking than the dementors' presence. And a doe? That was not the Patronus he had expected from the snarky old git. Perhaps a bat- a fox even, but a doe?

Snape swept towards him, black robes billowing in the summer breeze. He looked much the same as he always did. The same black teaching robes, the same greasy hair. He seemed a bit thinner, and had purple circles under his eyes, but the scowl was unmistakable.

"Getting into trouble as usual, I suppose, Potter?" he remarked, moving to inspect Dudley, who was groaning on the ground. "Care to explain all this?"

Explain? How was any of this his fault? Harry's hackles were raised in indignance.

'He did just save your life.' He reminded himself.

"I… I don't know. Me and Dudley were arguing, and they just… appeared. I was about to cast the Patronus charm when the doe…" he waved his hand in a useless gesture. "I don't know why they were here."

"I could make a few guesses." Snape's dark figure remarked grimly, almost as if to himself. His wand seemed to be casting some kind of healing charm over Dudley, a golden light emanating from his wand.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked.

"The Muggle will be fine. Would you like to explain this incident to your relatives, or shall I remove his memory of all this?" Snape asked briskly.

"Uhhh…" this was strange… Snape was being almost… neutral. But then, he probably had more on his mind at present then engaging in verbal wordplay with his most hated student. "Remove it. Uh, sir."

"As the Chosen One wishes."

Oh, there it is. The familiar Snape sneer. The world was in orbit once again.

"Um. Sir?"

"What, Potter?" Snape barked, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he performed the memory charm on Dudley, who seemed to have been put into an unconscious sleep. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Use your brain, boy. A certain dark wizard has just returned from the dead with a personal vendetta against you, one which I find sorely misplaced. Did you really think Dumbledore would allow you to go unguarded any time you decide to twitter off down to the local swing-set?"

"You were… guarding me?"

"I was meant to be sitting in my home, brewing a potion that is likely ruined now. If not for that dirty little turd of a guard running off, I wouldn't be here at all."

"Who… who was meant to be guarding me? Why did he leave?"

"Mundungus Fletcher." Snape replied shortly, levitating Dudley into a horizontal position. "I always told Dumbledore he was good for nothing. Probably abandoned his duty to chase a venereal-ridden skirt."

Rising in all his batlike splendour, Snape sharply turned to Harry. "Come, Potter. I'm taking you to your house. And I don't want you to leave until Dumbledore sends you a note telling you what to do. I am assuming that he'll want to relocate you in a few days."

"Relocate me where?" Harry asked. "The Burrow?"

"None of your business." Snape hissed, making quick strides through the alley, keeping Dudley's floating body ahead of them. "Wait." He turned and spun around. "Potter, since I did just save your miserable hide, I think I am justified in asking that you tell no one exactly what form my Patronus takes."

"Why, sir? Is it because it's such a girly form?" Harry smirked. However, he quickly realized that it had probably been the wrong thing to say when Snape's eyes burned with a sudden rage, and he grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt.

"You will tell NO. ONE. Am I making myself clear? Or perhaps you are unaware of my role at present?"

"I… you are a spy. For Dumbledore against Voldemort-"

"Yesssss…" Snape hissed, winching at the dark wizard's name and releasing Harry's shirt. "And that position requires secrecy… however much you may want to see me twitching to death under the Cruciatus curse, Potter, Dumbledore rather has need of me. So, I repeat, you will tell no one. Is that clear?"

Strangely discomforted with the image Snape presented of himself being tortured to death, Harry quickly acquiesced.

"Come on, then. You've wasted quite enough of my time with your insufferable arrogance."

They walked the rest way in silence.

When they finally came to the door of Number 4., Snape lowered Dudley to the ground, crossed his arms, and stared impassively at the door, quite ignoring Harry.

Picking up Dudley's dead-weight body and slinging his meaty arm over his shoulder, Harry paused, hand on the door-knob.

"Sn-Sir?"

"What, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"Uh…" he gulped. No. He was not going to thank that. "Um, I could have produced a Patronus charm, you know."

Snape bristled, and Harry cringed. Yeah, okay, that did sound pretty ungrateful.

"Idiot." The pale teacher snorted contemptuously. "And if you did that, you'd probably be expelled, which unfortunately is no longer an option with the Dark Lord running about. Now get inside, and I hope not to see your irritating face until term starts."

'The feeling is mutual.' Harry thought as he entered the house and shut the door firmly behind him.

Silently, midst preparing to face his relative's inevitable hysterical hostility, a stray thought passed unbidden through his mind. 'So, why exactly IS Snape's Patronus a doe?'

This AU fanfiction begins at the opening of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and although it is Snape-centric, it also explores the characters of Harry, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. It's AU nature is based around three ventral questions.

1~ If the Order were able to accept and trust Snape, how could his untapped genius contribute to the war-effort?

2~ If Sirius hadn't died, would he have eventually matured out of his Azkaban-frozen youth?

3~ If Sirius lived, would Harry not become emotionally volatile and prone to using the Cruciatus Curse?