But as though he knew something was coming a sense of dread came over him. Then Harry's scar burst open and he knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance.

He was gone from Snape's office, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began: they were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape –

Surely dying he cried out in agony. With a pained gasp he managed to draw breath, clarity entering his mind ever so briefly, but his body was no longer his own. Voldemort was inside of him, he knew that instinctively and with reckless abandon he felt his hands clawing at himself, trying to wrench the intruder out as though it were possible.

The pain lessened, becoming background noise while his eyes rolled back in his head, his body ceasing all resistance and instead giving in. His hands released his wand while his lungs drew another great gasping breath - and then the darkness creeping in on his vision changed.

As though being whisked off to a far away place Harry felt himself falling, fading into a vision that played out in front of his eyes.

The scene before him formed itself into the outside of a grand Tudor home. Cloudy skies and grey mushy snow contrasted the sweet twinkle of Christmas decorations in the diamond paned windows. Without needing his cooperation the vision compelled him to follow a cloaked figure who very quietly made their way down a stone pathway towards an open front door, moving past black rubbish bags discarded outside into the snow.

Feeling his physical body drawing breath again Harry began to push past the persisting pain in order to focus on the vision, finding that he could move about as freely as he wished should he just focus. Moving through the scene he followed the hooded figure into the foyer of the house, which like the outside was decorated for Christmas, little figurines hidden among lush ivy garlands and twinkling lights. At the far end of the foyer were several packages wrapped in Christmas paper, scattered as though someone had dropped them in a hurry.

Trying to understand what was happening Harry moved in front of the hooded figure and looked at them, and he gave a physical yell of shock upon recognising their face. Though quite younger than he knew him to be there was no mistaking the youthful face of Snape. He stood in the foyer without moving a muscle, listening intently to faint sounds coming from a room nearby.

Very cautiously Snape moved further in and raised his wand, and Harry found himself hurrying ahead to look first - and he felt himself cry out again at what he found, for even in the midst of physical pain his heart ached.

It took him a moment to understand what he saw - a spacious office that had been completely destroyed. Furniture was overturned, curtains ripped and hanging from a broken rod, glass cabinets smashed and books pulled off the shelves - and marring almost every surface were horrible blood stains, the volume of which made Harry want to retch.

Sitting amongst the obscene mess was Sirius, younger than Harry had ever known him to be. His eyes were clenched shut, hands over his mouth as he tried to stifle the heaving sobs that wracked his shoulders. At his feet was a black rubbish bag, filled with blood stained parchment and a patchwork blanket that might have once hung over the back of an armchair.

It seems as though Snape would have liked to take a shot. A known enemy found vulnerable, unaware and unarmed - a sitting target. He gripped his wand a little tighter and drew it back - but only for a moment. Choosing not to act he made a silent retreat, leaving his enemy consumed with grief amongst the brutality he was cleaning up.

Snape began to move further through the home, and when Sirius's form began to dissipate into darkness Harry was forced to follow. They moved into a large sitting room, the sheer grandness suggesting great wealth expressed as what was once a cosy and welcoming home.

Here there were yet more decorations, but the truth of what happened remained apparent. A large rug had been rolled up and moved to the other side of the room, the underside bearing a stain of blood. Nearby an enormous Christmas tree lay on its side, baubles smashed and scattered, the mirror above the mantle freckled with specks of blood.

The mirror above the mantle also gave away that Snape was no longer alone.

Whirling around Harry set eyes on someone he only knew from photos, those he had studied almost daily for the last few weeks. He watched as Lily Potter crept up behind Snape to take him unaware, and for a moment Harry observed her in fascination, awed by the sight of her.

Like Sirius she had been crying, her green eyes red and puffy, but at that moment she was so enraged Harry pulled away, distancing himself from her. It was an expression of sheer and utter loathing, one that felt out of place on the face of a woman he had only ever seen in happier times. He had heard his mother's voice only twice before now, in the memories of the night she died, terrified and frantic, and the night she came to him in the graveyard, loving and comforting. When she spoke now it was none of those things.

'How dare you come back here?'

Snape visibly jolted, surprised. For a moment he stood there frozen, and then slowly he lowered his wand and pocketed it, turning around smoothly to face the witch who had accosted him. But he looked at her plainly, seemingly unafraid to be found at the business end of her wand. Nevertheless he slowly raised his hands and showed her his empty palms, surrendering.

'You know why I'm here,' Snape said quite plainly, holding her gaze.

Lily gripped her wand and advanced on him. 'Was this you?' she accused, her voice a deathly quiet whisper. 'You have a reputation for that curse.'

'You think so lowly of me?'

'You know I do.' A long pause lingered, the two of them staring at one another while Harry watched on, and then Lily continued. 'I suppose this was another warning, was it?'

Snape nodded. 'It was your last warning,' he clarified. 'The last opportunity the Dark Lord will offer. Lily, if yo-'

'Don't you dare!' she hissed, advancing on him again until the tip of her wand was pressed into his neck. She was trembling, but not with fear. 'Don't ever speak my name.'

Snape merely looked at her, unafraid. Nevertheless he let silence linger as if hoping it would dissipate the tension, until - 'Where's Potter?'

'I didn't think it appropriate he be asked to clean up his own mother and father's blood.'

'The Dark Lord will take him too. If you pledge your loyalty to him he will grant Potter protection.'

Lily scoffed. 'A Mudblood Death Eater?'

Without reason Snape seemed to flinch, and for the first time he glanced away from her. 'The Dark Lord will overlook certain factors if it means gaining an experienced Potions Master.'

Snarling under her breath Lily pressed her wand even harder at Snape's neck, making him stumble as she backed him up against the fireplace. His hands remained raised in surrender. In the background there were footsteps, the scraping of furniture on hardwood floors. Sirius.

Lily was staring at Snape, smaller than him in stature and frame, but her anger seemed to elevate her beyond physical advantages. Harry watched her in fascination as a myriad of emotions crossed her face - anger and disgust, then pity. She seemed to be deciding something while Snape held her gaze, his own features expressionless.

'You won't hurt me,' he said lowly.

Lily continued to stare at him, but she conceded. 'No,' she quietly agreed. 'But if I scream Black will come running. You know he'd love a piece of you after what you've done.'

Unbothered by the threat Snape looked past her, gesturing to something with his head. 'Is it true?'

Though Lily never took her eyes off him Harry followed Snape's gaze. In the far corner of the sitting room was a large bouquet of colourful balloons, which like most everything else were lashed with blood. Beneath them was a basket filled to the brim with baby clothing and toys, and beside it an old wooden rocking horse Harry recognised from his photo album.

Congratulations, the balloons read. Baby Potter.

Lily looked at him smugly. 'You did always hope my love for James was just a sham. That one day you could take your shot at me.'

'That's not-'

'James and I will never join scum like you,' she whispered scathingly, not needing to shout to make her point. 'You're not worth the dirt on my shoe.'

For the first time Snape appeared frustrated, his mouth twitching in a grimace of impatience. 'The Dark Lord will not offer you another chance. I can pull no more favours to offer you safety. If y-'

'Get out now. Before I scream,' she threatened. She took several steps backwards and then gestured to the door with her wand.

'I can no longer protect your interests,' Snape pleaded. 'You cannot refuse again!'

His pleading made no difference - Lily was unmoved. 'Don't ever show your face to me again. I promise you, Sev, next time I won't be merciful.'

Before he could see anything more the vision began to wither away into darkness, making Harry's head whirl around as the pain began to return to full comprehension. In the split second it happened reality came back to him, the presence of Voldemort within him wrenching a deep groan from his chest, then his eyes rolled again as he fell once more into the darkness.

When the pain receded enough to be bearable Harry found himself in a gloomy sitting room, the dingy and threadbare couches as dusty at the mantelpiece over the empty fireplace. Outside rain pelted against the windows. Damp footprints on the dusty floorboards indicated there was someone nearby.

The vision moved him towards a closed door where he noticed a hidden figure wearing a Disillusionment charm. They were crouched down, appearing to listen at the keyhole and unaware that water was pooling around their feet, a clear giveaway. In the background Harry clearly heard a tone voice he recognised, one he had only heard once nearly two years ago in her classroom. It was Professor Trelawney, her voice hoarse and raspy as she unknowingly made a prophecy.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies …'

There was a great yell as a second figure came bounding up the rickety wooden staircase, and then disillusionment charm was lifted. The crouching figure flew to their feet in alarm, revealing for a second time the face of Severus Snape.

'Out!' the bearded barman bellowed. He seized Snape by the collar and roughly shoved him towards the stairs. 'You people are not welcome in this establishment! Listening in key holes…never set foot in this place again!'

Though he was nearly sent tumbling down the stairs Snape went without protest, giving the barman a look of utter contempt as he stormed out. His shoes thundered on the stairs as the barman followed, wand raised as he continued shouting. Upstairs the door flew open, Dumbledore's enquiring voice seeking an explanation.

All over again the vision changed, the gut wrenching transition back to the present making Harry writhe on the floor, briefly glimpsing the face of Snape standing over him, unable to help him. Blessedly it was faster this time, but when the next vision formed itself he felt himself screaming in horror.

This time he found himself standing in the Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor. The room was lit by only a few candles, nevertheless Harry recognised it instantly, for very little had changed in the years that must have passed. The enormous room was still painted purple and adorned with grand portraits just as Harry knew it to be, and it was completely deserted but for two people.

Standing by the marble fireplace was the cloaked silhouette of Lord Voldemort, who stared deep into the gilded mirror as though looking at something very far away. Behind him at his feet knelt Snape, his head cast low though he spoke in a clear, level voice.

'The request I make, My Lord, is that when you eliminate the prophesied child you spare the life of its mother.' Silence followed these words, and then Snape continued. 'Lily Evans is a highly proficient Potion Master, as you know. She recently completed an apprenticeship, and is considering specialist training. Horace Slughorn is known to be very fond of her too.'

Voldemort appeared unmoved by whatever Snape had been telling him, and continued to stare into the mirror. Finally an expression of ridicule crossed his disfigured features.

'Do not lie to the Dark Lord, Severus. You make only a fool of yourself.'

'I do not lie to you, my Lord,' Snape insisted, he too managing to keep his voice low and calm. 'With the right persuasion I believe she could be of great value to our cause. Particu-'

'To the wizard who murders her child, she will be loyal?' Voldemort questioned, finally turning around. 'The Potters have defied our cause on three separate occasions and have since birthed a child prophesied to vanquish me. Tell me the truth. Tell me, before the great favour you have cultivated expires.'

This time Snape visibly cringed, and then he raised his head to look Voldemort in the eyes when he confessed. 'I desire her, my Lord. That is all.'

Satisfied this was the truth, Voldemort pressed on. 'You desire a Mudblood? Surely a faithful Death Eater such as yourself would not seek to marry a Mudblood when there are purer witches more befitting your status.'

To this Snape said nothing, neither agreeing nor refuting. A long pause came to pass as Voldemort stared him down, holding his gaze and searching for truth or deception, while Snape looked back unflinchingly. It was like an entire conversation passed in utter silence, a thousand words passing between them, until finally Voldemort spoke.

'You have done the Dark Lord a great service Severus. In repayment, I will afford Lily Potter the opportunity to step aside when I kill her child. But should she not, I will kill her too.'

For a third time the vision changed, Harry feeling the breath straining in his throat during a brief moment of lucidity, and the darkness that overcame him again persisted. This scene took longer to form, and mercifully it was brief, the vision forming into mere flashes that he might not have comprehended had he not heard it all before. But the memories he possessed and that which Voldemort showed him brought it all into distinct clarity.

James was sprinting towards him, eyes wide with horror - and then determination. 'Lily, take Harry and go!' he cried, lunging for the base of the stairs and getting there first. 'It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-'

'Avada Kedavra!'

No! Harry heard himself crying out. He knew what this was. He knew, and he did not want to see, but nor could he close his eyes and ignore it.

A flash of green, one that lit the pram pushed against the wall, bannisters glaring like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut…

…a barricaded chair and boxes tumbled aside - and there stood Lily, clutching her baby in her arms. Harry watched on helplessly as the cloaked figure of Voldemort stepped into the room, forcing Lily to back away and drop him into the cot behind her. She threw her arms wide and stepped in front of him, shielding him as she pleaded.

'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'

'Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now …'

'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –'

'This is my last warning –'

Harry could hear himself screaming, crying out 'No!', because even in the depths of what he was witnessing he was finally beginning to understand. Finally he realised who that boy in the photograph with his mum was, and why no one would tell him the truth. His mother's voice came to him now, whispering to him in the graveyard '…it will be alright…hold on…'

And as Harry's heart filled with emotion the creature's coils loosened, releasing him entirely. The sight of his mother shielding him from Voldemort vanished as his eyes opened, and he felt a pained scream dying in his throat. For a few moments he lay in shock, his mind struggling to catch up.

Every breath came as a hoarse struggle, but he gulped the air into his lungs as though he'd been drowning. The pain was gone and yet it seemed to linger, clouding his head and leaving him confused and helpless laying on the floor. His chest was aching, but not from a physical attack.

What was that? What had just happened?

There was someone over him, a shadowy figure roughly shaking him. Remembering who it was and all that he had just witnessed, Harry lashed out. He was weak, but the suddenness of his attack made up for it. Snape went tumbling backwards while Harry scrambled to get away, his limbs trembling so hard he could hardly move.

He fumbled when he tried to find his feet, his legs giving out and sending him back down. Driven by sheer desperation he managed to struggle a few feet across the stone floor, putting as much distance between himself as Snape as he possibly could. His wand was discarded somewhere, but he lacked the strength to summon it, let alone physically find it.

'What happened?' Snape demanded.

Seeing him advancing on him again Harry summoned every ounce of strength he possessed. 'Get away from me!'

His voice was a hoarse roar, one that made Snape stop in his tracks. He looked at Harry and then he took a measured step back, putting more distance between them.

Still catching his breath Harry closed his eyes just for a moment, and those visions flashed before his eyes in quick success. His mother holding Snape at wand point while he tried to recruit her. Snape kneeling by a keyhole while Trelawney recited a prophecy, on his knees before Voldemort confessing his desire for Lily Potter - asking him to spare her. And then his parents, falling one by one as they died to protect him.

Pushing himself up to his feet Harry bent over double, clutching a shelf for balance. Overcome with horror he closed his eyes, hearing himself whimper oh as realisation came over him. The echoes of whatever that had been still lingered within him, he could still feel that all consuming pain. But worse than that was the ache inside his chest that came with knowledge he wished he could remain ignorant to.

Opening his eyes he looked over at Snape, finally seeing that had been in front of him all along.

'You did always hope my love for James was just a sham. That one day you could take your shot at me.'

'I desire her, my Lord. That is all.'

The photograph he had taken to carrying around, the image of his mother with her arm around a boy's shoulder, posing together. The boy Harry had asked everyone about, who everyone denied knowing.

Snape.

A/N Thanks for waiting readers - hope this lived up to expectations for the subplot of the mystery boy in Lily's photo! Such a great chapter to write, I really enjoyed the visions Voldemort showed Harry.