Lily's Box

Disclaimer: Still not mine, still never were, still never will be.

A/N: Apologies if Severus seems a little OOC here; I figured that Harry and Hermione already know his darkest secrets, so it isn't as though he can hide anything from them, which is why he doesn't refuse to show them scenes from his schooldays. So don't bother flaming. I'll only use them to melt marshmallows.

I won't be updating this now until after July 27th, when I get back from Canada. Also, thankyou to Kittenmommy for reviewing Part 1!

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Chapter 2: The Yearbook, and Snape

"There's a diary entry as well," Harry added. "Let's see… "

"I didn't go to Hogsmeade with the others today. Alice and Daisy were confused, but I said I wanted to do homework. That got rid of them! I met Severus instead, and we spent the whole day down by the lake without anyone bothering us (it is late October, after all). He's so messed up. It's not fair. He was there before me, and when I got there, he was cutting himself. I've never seen him actually doing it before. It's awful. Harrowing. He was crying and then I saw him pulling the blade across his arm. He did it several times, and he was bleeding and he was putting the blade into the cuts to make them deeper and bleed more. He let me clean him up – although he wouldn't let me heal them. His arms are horrible. I don't know what's normal skin and what's scar tissue. I'm scared for him. Really scared. Especially as I know there's absolutely nothing I can do.

We talked. He's really depressed. It's like he hasn't got any hope left. He cried a lot, and I can hardly bear to look into his eyes. They're filled with pain, despair, fear, hopelessness, loneliness…I don't know how I can help him. I don't know if I can help him. I won't give up on him, though. I'm the only one who hasn't. I can't do anything more than hold him while he cries, listen when he talks, clean the blood away when he cuts, be there for him. It's so hard sometimes, though, because I don't know what to do. You can protect people from others, but how can you protect them from themselves? "

Harry looked up, blinking back unshed tears. "This is awful," he whispered.

"We can't tell Ron," Hermione declared. "It wouldn't be fair on Snape. You know Ron's not the most sensitive or tactful of people. We can keep it between us, but if Ron finds out, it'll be all over the whole school."

Harry nodded his agreement. "No question of it."

"Can – can we come back to this?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Of course." Harry put the letters away in their smaller box before putting it and the diary back where they came from. He pulled out a small, square box and, opening it, gasped. "It's my mum's engagement ring!" he whispered in awe. It was a gold band, set with a ruby in the shape of a lily. He handed it to Hermione and Mrs. Granger.

"It's beautiful!" Hermione breathed.

"Notice the Gryffindor colours," Harry added, smiling.

"It's so well-crafted," Mrs. Granger marvelled, examining it closely. "The detail is amazing."

Harry unfolded the small piece of paper that had been in the box. "My dad's uncle was a jeweller – wizarding, of course," he informed them, reading from the paper. "Made it specially for my mum."

Hermione, now sitting on the floor again, peered into the box. "Is that a yearbook?"

Harry pulled the black leather book out. It had the Hogwarts crest in the centre, with a House crest in each corner. 'Class of 1978' was underneath the school crest. "I'd say so," he replied. "There are different sections for each House. There's also a whole-year photo at the front, before the House pages."

Hermione looked at the names written underneath the photo. "Dumbledore, Sprout, McGonagall, Binns … they're all still at Hogwarts … Oh look, there's Lupin, Sirius and your dad together."

"My mum's between my dad and Snape," Harry observed.

"Snape looks pretty unhappy."

Harry nodded. "There's Pettigrew, next to Lupin."

"He's looking a bit shifty," Hermione mused.

Harry flicked through the pages of teacher quizzes and quotes, memorable lessons, exploits, pranks, photos of the school and grounds, House and Quidditch standings for each year that year group had attended Hogwarts, until he reached a page with the Gryffindor crest on. "Student profiles," he read out.

"Let's see!"

"Sirius Black: a motorbike obsessive and a Marauder. Lively, cheeky, bouncy, well-liked. Not well-known for lengthy relationships. Best subject – Transfiguration."

"What a surprise, "Hermione remarked drily.

"Lily Evans: Head Girl, and prefect from fifth year. Bit of a bookworm and a major brainbox. Hot-tempered, but universally loved, and sweet and cheerful. Best subject – Charms. Sounds good." He turned the page. "Remus Lupin: the most sensible of the Marauders. Placid, easygoing, perhaps slightly pessimistic. Prefect from fifth year. Quietly intelligent. Best subject – DADA." He hesitated. "Peter Pettigrew: fourth Marauder. Generally quiet. Loathes everything Slytherin-related. Best subject – (falling asleep in) History of Magic. And finally, James Potter: a Marauder. Owner of an Invisibility Cloak. Smart, outgoing, fun-loving. Quidditch obsessive and Gryffindor captain since sixth year. Best subject – Transfiguration."

"Not much about Pettigrew," Mrs. Granger commented.

"He isn't really anything special," said Harry.

"What about Snape?" Hermione cut in.

Harry turned to the green-tinted pages. "Severus Snape: prefect from fifth year. Highly intelligent and a major bookworm. Secretive, quiet, shrewd, sarcastic. A loner. Best subject – Potions." He looked up. "That sounds like the Snape we know."

A buzzer sounded from downstairs, startling the three. Mrs. Granger jumped to her feet. "Tea'll be ready," she said. "Come on; you can carry on looking in that box later."

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"I'm writing to Snape," Harry announced to Hermione after tea, when they were alone in her room.

"Are you mad?! He'll lynch you!"

"I want to know about my mother, Herm." He grabbed a pen from her desk and scribbled a note.

Professor Snape,

I found this box of my mother's (Sirius told me about it). I gather you were best friends with her. I hardly know anything about her, and I'd like to know more, if you could tell me.

By the way, I'm staying at Hermione Granger's.

Harry Potter

He placed it in an envelope and then sent his owl, Hedwig, off to locate the professor. Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you did that."

"I had to," replied Harry. "I know about my dad from Sirius, but not my mum."

Hermione sighed in resignation. "It's your funeral."

Harry turned back to the box. There were a number of letters from James to Lily, and the two spent the next hour reading through them.

Hermione, thirsty, got up to go to the kitchen for a drink. She gasped as a tall, intimidating man suddenly appeared in front of her. "P-Professor Snape," she croaked.

"Indeed, it is I, Miss Granger," Snape replied in his quiet, silky voice. "I believe Mr. Potter sent me a letter."

"Er – yeah, I did," Harry confirmed.

"I have some time on my hands. Perhaps I could inform you of what you wish to know."

"Can – can I get you a drink or something?" Hermione inquired.

Snape shook his head. "I'm fine, thankyou, Miss Granger. Perhaps it would be wise to inform your parents of my arrival?"

Hermione nodded and scuttled off, returning moments later with a tray laden with the biscuit tin (savoury biscuits only, of course), a jug of water and three glasses. "Mum shoved it in my hands," she explained, setting the tray down on the floor and joining Harry and Snape already seated on the floor.

Harry promptly reached for a biscuit. "We read through some of the letters you sent my mum while you were at school."

Snape looked at him intently, making Harry shift uncomfortably. "Which ones? I seem to recall a lot of them being mainly anti-Divination waffle."

"Not these ones," Harry said. "We also found my mum's diary and matched up the dates with the letters."

"Which letters?"

"Your first one, one from third year, a – a suicide note from fourth year and the next one after that," Harry answered nervously.

"Oh." Snape's face was blank, his obsidian eyes guarded. "I see." He paused. "Before you ask, the scars are still there. It's why I cannot abide short sleeves – along with the Dark Mark of which I am now deeply ashamed. I cannot possibly wear them." His gaze flicked to Harry's T-shirt and Hermione's strappy summer top. "Too many questions."

"Can – can we see?" Hermione asked hesitantly. "I mean, we already know the scars are there."

"Why would you want to? It's a hideous sight. Lily nearly fainted the first time she saw."

Hermione shrugged. "Call it morbid fascination."

Snape was silent, as though trying to decide whether or not to grant her request. Finally, he sighed and slowly unbuttoned the sleeves of his black shirt. "I won't take my shirt off, though. I can't expose my parents' work." He pushed the sleeves up to just past his elbows.

Harry and Hermione both had to steady themselves at the sight. Both of Snape's arms were horrifically mutilated; thick and thin, long and short, white scars criscrossed each other in a morbid mosaic. They also bore evidence of very recent activity – there were flaring pink and purple lines, scabbed-over, red lines, and several long red gashes, one of which was still bleeding slightly. Looking more closely, Harry could see it went right through the centre of the faint Dark Mark that was branded into the teacher's arm. The thick scars from his fourth-year suicide attempt were painfully prominent.

"How could you do this?" Hermione breathed in shock.

"I was pushed too far," Snape replied, pulling his sleeves back down. "I can't expect you to even begin to imagine how far I was pushed, or feeling what I was feeling. Eventually the self-hatred takes over. The whole world hates you and you can't cope."

"We know you were five when you first attempted suicide," said Hermione quietly.

"My father was usually too drunk to remember to keep his poisons out of reach of a nosy five-year-old. But believe me, I knew what they did. I wanted to die when I was five years old." He laughed bitterly. "How crazy does that sound?"

"Er –" said Hermione, at a loss for words for once.

"Lily's what we're here to talk about, not my mental state or my dark past," Snape said abruptly. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Harry answered.

"Could you perhaps give me a starting point?"

"What was she like with you? From that first day on the train."

Snape sighed heavily, focusing his gaze on the water jug. "I was on my own on the train. It was about half an hour into the journey and this girl – obviously a first-year like me – poked her head into the compartment. Some girl named Ivy had lost her cat and she was wondering if I'd seen it. I said I hadn't and she came in and sat down." He hesitated. "I could show you, if you like."

"How?" Hermione asked excitedly, leaning forward. Harry suppressed a smirk; typical Hermione, wanting to know everything.

Snape pulled out a long silver chain with dials on for the date, month and year. He placed the chain around the necks of all three of them and set the dial. "Take my hands, you two," he instructed. Raising his right hand (his wand hand), he tapped the dial twice with his wand.

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TBC