Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing! Without further ado, Chapter 3:

Later that day…

"Come in, Ms. Evans. Severus really wants to see you."

The redhead raised her eyebrows. "Severus wants to see me? After all that happened earlier?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled cryptically. "Let's just say that our dear Mr. Snape has come to his senses after a nice discussion about who his true friends are at Hogwarts."

Lily shrugged, her face a mask of nonchalance blended with indifference. "Here we go again."

"Right this way." Madam Pomfrey led her to the back of the hospital ward, where a single bed was shrouded by white curtains. With trembling but determined hands, she pulled back the drapes. Lily gasped at the sight that greeted her.

Her former best friend was entangled in a convoluted mess of bloody, dirty, and extremely greasy sheets. His thin shoulders were trembling and both fists were clenched around the hem of the blanket—as if protesting with rage against a world that was forever hostile towards the ugly, greasy, miserable wretch known as Severus Snape. His grimy hair was sprawled all over the pillow, with an air of resignation and rebellion. Why bother with putting the slightest effort into his hygiene and appearance, if he was despised no matter what? Both eyelids were red and swollen shut. Salty rivulets traversing his cheeks indicated that he had been crying, and that there were many more tears left unshed.

Instantly, Lily's resentment towards Snape's recent behavior, along with her skepticism towards his alleged reformation, faded clean away. Sympathy flooded her heart.

"Severus," she gasped. "What happened?"

Madam Pomfrey grimaced sympathetically, and lowered her voice so that only Lily could hear. "He is under a double dose of the Draught of Peace. We have also been administering a healing salve to his wounds every thirty minutes. The potions are doing their job, but not nearly as effectively as they otherwise would. The boy's volatile emotions and poor hygiene—I almost fainted at those filthy undergarments—certainly aren't conducive to healing. It also doesn't help that he hardly lets me look at or touch him there, although I can hardly blame him for that."

Lily's face reddened in anger. "I hate that James Potter!" she burst out viciously. "I heard him whining and begging Professor McGonagall to let him back on the Quidditch team. Not an ounce of care in the world for what he did to Severus! He should consider himself lucky that getting kicked off the team was the worst that happened to him. If it were up to me, he would have been—"

"Lily?"

A feeble voice interrupted her righteous indignation. The bedsheets stirred very slightly, before a cold, trembling hand reached out to clasp hers.

"Sev! You're awake!"

"I'm sorry," Snape croaked, fresh tears welling in his eyes. He then plunged into a frantic monologue of apologies. "Lily, I'm so sorry. I've never felt so sick to my stomach for what I said to you. Apologizing to you is not even enough. I spat in the face of the best—and only—friend I've ever had, all because of those awful boys whose opinions shouldn't even matter. I was so wrong to throw you under the bus like that. Please, please give me another chance! I renounce all the Dark Arts. I've even burned my Dark Mark necklace. I will never hang out with Mulciber or Avery or Rosier ever again—no matter how much they threaten me! Oh Lily, won't you give me another chance?"

Lily gazed into his watery black eyes. She vacillated briefly between the options of further berating him, or welcoming him back into grace. But her better nature prevailed. Severus was clearly broken-hearted over the poor choices he had made. A pat on the back would do much more good, than a slap in the face.

"Of course I will give you another chance. But Sev, I expect you to follow through on what you just promised. No more fraternizing with those wannabe Death Eaters."

"It's a deal!" In spite of his weakened condition, Snape bolted upright and flung his arms around Lily. Never again would he test her limits. Never again would he be so naive and presumptuous to assume that she would always be there. That she would blindly and unconditionally support him, no matter how he acted. Severus had come so close to losing Lily's friendship, he resolved never again to take it for granted.

"We're going to need a plan," Lily declared. "You can't simply walk up to those guys, and tell them that you're done with them. They will make your life absolute hell. You're going to have to be strategic about it."

Snape nodded stiffly but confidently. "Don't worry, I have a plan. They won't suspect a thing."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over and gently stepped in front of Lily. "I hate to interrupt this wonderful conversation, but it's time for Severus to take his Pain Relief Potion and get some much-needed rest."

"Of course. Bye Sev! I'll see you tomorrow!" Lily planted a quick kiss on the forehead, before turning around to exit the Hospital Wing. Snape's cheeks were tinged pink.


A few days later…

Snape sat around a cauldron in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, his somber face glowing in the shimmering silver mist that was emanating from the bubbling liquid. With a small grimace, he adjusted his sitting position into a more comfortable one. True to her word, Madam Pomfrey had healed him to the best of her ability. But unfortunately, her impressive abilities as a healer had been limited by her patient's lack of cooperation. The pain in Severus' battered backside, while tolerable, was still considerable.

The greasy-haired teenager furrowed his brow in concentration, as he continued adding ingredients to his self-made recipe. Combining various ingredients from the Draught of Peace and the Forgetfulness Potion, he had crafted a masterful new concoction. Snape smiled in satisfaction as a puff of wispy blue smoke wafted from the cauldron, inundating his senses with a light floral fragrance. It was working. This wonderful potion would be the key to his new life.

Lily was right. His fellow Slytherins would be furious at his sudden lack of interest in joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. He would be harassed and interrogated to death. For this precise reason, Severus took it upon himself to develop the Occlumens Potion.

The Occlumens Potion was intended to make the drinker's emotions invisible. Severus would still retain the facts and events of his memories, since he did not want his brains to be addled with. But any anger, fear, or sadness associated with those past recollections—and for that matter, any emotions that were incited in him due to future unpleasant episodes—would be undetectable to all but the few people he permitted to be close to his heart. The drinker of the Occlumens Potion could be bawling his eyes out and screaming profanity at the top of his lungs, but to any observer, he would be as calm and serene as a sleeping infant.

Only idiots wore their hearts on their sleeves. Only idiots allowed their pain and vulnerability to be seen. And Severus Snape refused to be an idiot.

The entire school was watching the Quidditch Final between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, giving Snape plenty of privacy as he continued to brew. Slowly and deliberately, he stirred the cauldron and prepared to add the final ingredient.

With trembling hands, Snape lifted his wand to his temple to withdraw strands of silver material. Every wound and scar that his hostile classmates, both Slytherins and Gryffindors, had ever inflicted. One by one, he invoked the most painful memories from his years at Hogwarts, and banished them into the swirling depths of the potion.

*** First year ***

It was the first flying lesson. Row after row of nervous but excited Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years stood lined up by their brooms. At Madam Hooch's command, they attempted to summon them.

"Up!" In an instant, James Potter's broomstick leapt into his outstretched hand.

One by one, brooms leapt into the air when called. Before long, only one broom remained stationary in the grass.

Eleven year-old Severus Snape's gaunt, sallow little face was stricken with desperation as his broom refused to move an inch. "Up! Up! Up!"

Sirius giggled derisively behind his back. "Look at Snivelly. Even the broom hates him."

"Maybe they put a Grease-Repelling Charm on the broom." James whispered back. Several other students burst into laughter, as they continued to enjoy Snape's humiliating incompetence.

"Well, what did you think was gonna happen?" sneered an especially mean Slytherin girl named Priscilla Parkinson. "Of course he doesn't know how to fly. He was raised by trash. The only way Snape could ever afford a broom was if his family didn't eat for a month."

Soon it was time to fly. Madam Hooch ordered the first-years to line up single-file, and do three laps around the Quidditch pitch. Snape's knees were trembling. What if he was the only one who failed to get off the ground?

At the whistle, Severus kicked off the ground and joined his classmates in circling the stadium. He was by far the slowest and the worst flier, but at least he was staying in the air…

WHOOSH!

James pelted at him from the right, coming within arm's length of Snape, before stopping on a dime and swerving away. Panicked and startled, Severus clumsily spiraled off course and missed a goal post by inches. The cocky Gryffindor laughed as he continued soaring through the air. Potter may have been an arrogant toerag, but on a broomstick it certainly wasn't for nothing. His confidence and skills were miles ahead of anyone else.

Severus had barely managed calm his frantic heartbeats and get his broom under control again, when Sirius charged at him head-on. Snape awkwardly swerved to avoid getting hit, and nearly crashed into a tree. But the onslaught continued. James and Sirius repeatedly flew circles around Severus from all directions. Each time, the diminutive Slytherin only barely managed to avoid a devastating injury. But he was getting increasingly flustered, and his stamina and coordination were waning.

Finally, Severus completely lost control when James dive-bombed him from above. In a wild attempt at dodging aside, Severus lost his grip on the handle and tumbled off the broom. He dropped thirty feet onto the earth below, landing with a sickening crunch on one hand. The greasy-haired boy lay in a heap, paralyzed by the agony of a compound fracture that had splintered his carpal bones.

"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch mumbled. She half-dragged, half-carried Severus to the Hospital Wing.

After his shattered arm was restored to health, Severus jumped out of bed and rushed to petition the teachers who had come to check on him. "Madam Hooch, didn't you see what Potter and Black—

Professor Slughorn lifted a hand to silence him. "That will do, Severus."

"But you saw what they did! They made me fall off my broom!"

Madam Hooch knelt down to the boy's eye level. "Severus, I did see what they did. Potter and Black almost crashed into you many times, but they didn't actually touch you. Technically, they did nothing wrong. Quidditch is a game of agility, reflexes, and being able to quickly and constantly adapt to changing circumstances."

Professor Slughorn continued, "I understand that you feel embarrassed and humiliated by your performance in the Flying Lesson today, Severus. I know you are upset that you weren't able to keep up with your classmates. But do you think it's fair that you take your frustration out on James and Sirius? Does it make sense to blame them for your own embarrassment, instead of simply practicing to improve your own skills?"

With slumped shoulders and teary eyes, Snape hung his head and trudged out the Hospital Wing.

** Second Year **

"Give it back!" Twelve year-old Snape made a furious lunge at James Potter.

"Come and get it!" James sneered. He dangled the pilfered object tauntingly in the air. The two bullies had crept up on Snape as he was quietly reading in the library, and snatched away the book.

"One Hundred Useful Potions?" Sirius chortled. "I hope one of them is Shampoo!"

"Give it back!" Snape tried to punch James in the nose, but the cocky Quidditch phenom dodged aside with ease.

"Missed by a mile! Wow Snivelly, your aim sucks and you have absolutely zero coordination! It's no wonder you can't play Quidditch to save your life!"

Severus whipped out his wand. "Accio!" The Summoning Charm was part of the fourth-year curriculum, but what Severus lacked in athletic abilities, he more than compensated for with an abundance of intellect.

The book jumped out of James' hands and began soaring back to its rightful owner. Sirius made a wild grab at it, but only managed to wrap his fingers around a few loose pages. A loud ripping sound filled the air, and the book soon lay in tatters on the floor.

"Well, well, well," drawled a low and menacing voice. Filch had arrived on the scene. The caretaker's malevolent little eyes darted from one boy to the next. "What do we have here? A destroyed library book?"

James and Sirius instantly pointed at Severus. "He did it!" They spoke in perfect synchronization.

The man's crooked, dirty, and uneven teeth were bared in a sadistic grin. "You brats think that just because I'm a Squib, you don't need to show me an ounce of respect," Filch hissed. "But luckily for me, I don't need magic when I have the power to lock you up without food for days. To string you up by your ankles and whip you until you bleed. And that, Mr. Snape, is precisely what your fate will be, if you don't fork over ten Galleons for that book that you so irreverently destroyed."

"It wasn't me, sir!" Severus protested, trembling with indignation. "They—

"Ten Galleons, or you will be a very sorry boy," Filch snarled, as if Snape hadn't said a thing. Filch had never cared much for ascertaining the facts or passing accurate judgment on any situation. As long as he could inflict punishment on any student, he leapt at the opportunity.

"I haven't even got one Galleon!" Tears of rage and humiliation welled in Snape's obsidian eyes. Money was always a sensitive topic for Severus, having grown up in abject deprivation and standing out so conspicuously from his snobbish, aristocratic housemates. Behind Filch's back, James stuck his tongue out at Snape.

Filch's dirty, unshaven face was twisted in a malevolent grin. "Very well. I'll have you serving detentions every Saturday until you've worked off your debt. Oh dear… that's a lot of Saturdays."

"But—"

"Furthermore, consider yourself banned from the library for the rest of the year."

*** Third year ***

"Merry Christmas, Sev!" With glowing eyes and a bright smile, Lily tossed a neatly wrapped package to her friend.

Snape's fingers trembled as he untied the ribbon. Taking great care not to rip a single bit of the wrapping paper, he slowly peeled back every flap and fold, until his gift was revealed.

An emerald green sweater, softer than a downy pillow, tumbled softly onto the bed. Snape could not peel his eyes away from the heavenly sight. He dared not lay a finger on it. What if the sweater disintegrated with the slightest touch? What if the sweater was as tenuous and fleeting as his desire that the most wonderful Lily could love someone as pathetic as Severus Snape? What if he was hallucinating? What if this was all a dream, and he would soon wake up and find himself spending another Christmas Day alone?

With utmost tenderness and caution, as if the sweater was the most fragile thing on earth, he held it out at arm's length. No, this was not a dream. For the first time in his life, he had presents for Christmas. Snape's eyes filled with grateful tears.

"Molly Weasley taught me how to knit last summer," Lily explained proudly. "Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Snape choked. He hugged the sweater tightly to his chest. "Lily, how could I ever thank you?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Snape lounged in an armchair and closed his eyes in pure bliss. He didn't care how silly he looked, losing himself in mindless adoration. There in his hands was concrete proof that Lily Evans was his friend, and all the taunts in the world couldn't take that away from him.

The clock tower struck eight. Soon it would be time for breakfast. Making sure to give Lily's gift the proper respect it deserved, Snape rushed to the bathroom and vigorously washed his hair, before pulling the sweater over his head. He spent another several minutes beaming at his reflection, before heading down to the dining hall.

Snape had barely finished descending the stairs, when his fellow Slytherins accosted him. "Snape! What is this rubbish you're wearing?" demanded Avery.

"Lily gave it to me!" Snape declared proudly. "Merry Christmas!" he added. Nothing was going to ruin his mood today.

Or so he thought.

Snape had barely taken three steps into the dining hall, when Rosier grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the corridor. "Have you no pride? Are you seriously accepting gifts from Mudbloods?"

Snape glared at his housemates. "Don't call her that!" He roughly jerked himself free from Rosier's grip. But quick as a flash, the Slytherins had him pinned against the wall.

"Shame on you," Mulciber hissed. "We've always known you were a dirty half-blood, but I never imagined you would sink this low. Get rid of that sweater at once, and start acting properly!"

"Never!" Snape screamed defiantly. He stomped hard on Mulciber's foot, forcing him to momentarily loosen his grip. Snape tried to wriggle free, but Mulciber instantly restrained him once more.

Before Snape could draw his wand, Avery and Rosier grabbed Snape by the wrists, and twisted both arms painfully behind his back. "Repeat after me," Mulciber ordered. "Lily Evans is a filthy Mudblood who deserves to be killed."

"I refuse!" Severus stood his ground.

"Say it!" Rosier demanded. "Otherwise Lucius and Bellatrix will be hearing about this, and you'll be sorry!" But Severus still refused to give in.

"I've had it with all this nonsense," Mulciber growled. He marched into the dining hall and emerged moments later with a tray full of bacon grease. Flashing a vicious grin, he emptied the contents of the tray over Snape's head. "Merry Christmas, Half-Blood!"

"NO!" Snape screamed in horror as the pernicious bacon grease soaked its way into every inch of the fluffy green sweater. With a herculean effort, he broke free and whipped out his wand. "SCOURGIFY! SCOURGIFY! SCOURGIFY!"

"Don't even think about it!" Avery kicked Snape's arm, and sent his wand skittering away down the corridor. Snape dove for his fallen wand, but Avery tackled him to the hard stony floor, with both hands around the smaller boy's neck.

"LET ME GO!" Snape shrieked, tears of panic and desperation blurring his vision. He twisted his head sideways and bit down on Avery's hand with all his might. The coppery scent of blood ran through his teeth.

"Ouch! You'll pay for that, you greasy bastard!" Avery howled furiously as he clutched his bleeding hand. Seizing two fistfuls of soft green yarn, he pulled and tugged with all his might.

All four boys fell silent as the deafening cacophony of tearing fabric filled the air. For a few tense seconds, the entire corridor was eerily silent. Then Snape let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"NO! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" Snape's eyes were bloodshot and delirious as he beheld the pitiful remains of what had been, fifteen minutes ago, a beautiful, untarnished, and impeccably flawless work of art. He blinked furiously several times and gave himself a vicious pinch. There was no way this was really happening! This had to be a nightmare!

But it was a nightmare from which he would not be waking up. A torrential outpouring of tears and mucus gushed down his face, forming a row of slimy stalactites on his chin, before slithering to the floor. Snape collapsed to his knees in a blubbering heap, with the tattered remains of Lily's precious gift still cradled in his arms.

Rosier threw up his hands in exasperation and confusion. "Honestly, I don't know why he's so upset. We did him a favor by getting rid of that monstrosity."

"Yeah," Mulciber agreed. "Besides, it was only a matter of time before he got grease all over it, anyways."

Stay tuned for Chapter 4!