AU where Snape basically left the death eaters (for himself, not for his love for Lily) sooner than he actually did in the books and was working undercover for Dumbledore the entire time. Harry Potter is never known as the boy who lived, his parents don't die, and Voldemort is defeated by Dumbledore when he's like three.
A Peace of Mind
He Who Must Not Be Named Defeated
You-Know-Who was defeated by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster Albus Dumbledore early Halloween morning near Hogwarts' school grounds. A battle quickly ensued between Death Eaters and the Order after a failed coup at Hogwarts. Sources say You-Know-Who received misguided information from trusted Death Eater, and spy for Dumbledore, Severus Snape, which resulted in his downfall. The Wizarding World rejoices at the death of one of the most dangerous wizards of this century, but the number of Death Eaters still remain at large. Trials for known Death Eaters are expected to commence shortly, says Minister Millicent Bagnold. Dumbledore has not made any statements regarding the death of You-Know-Who. The number of casualties is still not yet known to the public.
Twelve years. Twelve years since his defeat and everyone still felt the need to talk about it. Students—the brave ones—would come up after class, or sometimes interrupt his teaching, to ask him about it: were you really a spy for You-Know-Who during the war? Rumors were created, lies were told; one Slytherin boy, a second year, claimed to speak Parseltongue, but refused to speak it in front of anyone deemed unworthy, which appeared to be everyone. Another boy, Ravenclaw, conjured up some story about the Dark Lord's body never being found—that wasn't true, either; Severus had seen the corpse, and it would haunt his dreams forevermore. But part of him did wonder, a part that believed life too good to be true... The Dark Lord was close with Bellatrix Lestrange. How close, Severus did not know; even a trusted spy could not know everything about him, and his affairs. But she was rotting in Azkaban, along with the other Death Eaters—except for a privileged few. No, there were no signs of his return or any heirs, but Dumbledore still kept a watchful eye.
"Oh, yes, yes..." Slughorn gently patted Severus' shoulder, forcing him to tune back into the conversation. What were they even talking about again? Why did he even go to these things? He never quite felt he fit among the crowd of succeeders in Slughorn's circle, but no one ever told him otherwise. "Severus here is a master at potions. Even correcting me on a few occasions, if memory serves well." The man he was speaking to was someone who worked for The Prophet, another successful and praised student—that much Severus knew—but he could not remember his name. Slughorn sipped his glass of wine, his face flushed. "But Defense Against the Dark Arts was where you really excelled at. Dear Emmeline Vance is retiring this year, I hear. Perhaps you might think of applying..."
"Oh, he's a shoo-in," said an encouraging voice behind him, and he moved aside to let her into their circle of conversation.
"Ah, Lily, my dear, how is that boy of yours, er..." But he stopped suddenly, unable to recall Harry's name, if he even knew it.
"Harry," she told him, taking no offense.
"Yes, yes, Harry," he said. "Harry Potter. How is the dear lad? Nearly grown now, isn't he?"
"Fifteen," Lily told him as her arm wrapped around Severus' waist, "and everything like his father." Many things, Severus noted with his own hand cupping her shoulder, but not everything.
Slughorn's face fell slightly. "Well, I hope he at least inherited his mother's skills in potion making." And his eyes turned to Severus for reassurance.
"I'm afraid not," answered Severus, to Slughorn's disappointment. "But," he added after a slight pause, giving the old man some glimmer of hope, "Emmeline hails him exceptional in her class."
"I suppose potion making isn't a talent for everyone," said Slughorn, and he chuckled to himself. "James certainly preferred messing with your potions more than his own. All in good fun, I'm sure." And Severus shifted at the comment, feeling something boil inside him. Lily gave a gentle reassuring squeeze to his waist. Slughorn did not linger on the subject long, opting instead to turn his attention onto the other man. "You're nephew's working for the Ministry now, I hear, Gorden..."
Slughorn downed the rest of his wine and placed the empty glass on a nearby waiter's tray before blindly retrieving another one. He silently offered a glass to Severus and Lily as Gorden spoke of his nephew to an intrigued and drunk Slughorn. Both shook their heads no: Severus because he didn't drink, he wouldn't drink; and Lily because she was hoping that she wasn't able.
They left soon after. It was late, and Quidditch was tomorrow: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. "Weasley is our King" badges were created as an attempt to scare off the poor Weasley boy, Ron. The teachers tried to control the chaos by banning the badges in classrooms, but they conquered the halls and the Slytherin common room—and everywhere else, for that matter. Harry, and the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team, wanted something more to be done, of course; he wanted Severus to give Draco Malfoy detention, force him to miss the game—and he did his best to remain neutral on the matter, but he was honestly tired of participating in such childhood antics. It was a silly badge, for Merlin's sake, that called Weasley a King, of all things. A Slytherin would embrace such a title.
He stayed up past midnight grading third years' homework; he was always a night owl and didn't need much sleep. But in truth, nighttime made him vulnerable to many thoughts, many anxieties that he could otherwise ignore during the day.
"Severus," her voice sang from their bedroom, and he felt a slight twist in his stomach. But, nevertheless, he joined her. Afterwards, she snuggled close to him, mumbling something about a baby, their baby, as she drifted off while he remained awake, alone with those frightful thoughts about what the future held for him.
He rose early the next morning when his love still slept soundly. Knowing they would reunite in just a few short hours, he left her with a tender kiss and started up the path towards Hogwarts. The dungeons were quiet in their early hours when children still slept. He finished grading the papers abandoned the night before. Once he started hearing voices of students outside his office doors, Severus knew it was time to make his morning rounds. The entire school was divided. Ravenclaw, it seemed, supported Gryffindor while Hufflepuff's were rooting for Slytherin, wearing their "Weasley is our King" badges with pride. He passed Luna Lovegood wearing a Lion's hat; she gave him a dazed greeting and wandered off into the great hall for breakfast. Minerva and Pomona wished his team good luck, though Minerva had a certain look in her eye. He wished her the same, but reminded her not to get her hopes up. He was returning to the dungeons when he clearly heard Malfoy heated over something. Perhaps some first years bewitched the portrait again.
"Good luck out there, Weasley. Potter," he spat, and Severus quickened his pace. Malfoy's boyfriend and his friends always seemed looking for trouble at the most inconvenient times. "As for you, you filthy mud—"
"Five points from Slytherin for you incessant pestering, Malfoy," Severus sneered as he turned the corner, revealing himself to the group. Malfoy only jumped slightly while Crabbe and Goyle—exactly like their father's twelve years prior—ran off entirely. "Haven't you got a game to prepare for?"
Draco only nodded, silently sulking. His father, Lucius Malfoy, saw Severus as a blood traitor. Not so much for betraying the Dark Lord—they had, in their own way, betrayed him too—but because he married a muggleborn. The Malfoy family were too traditional for their own good. Draco turned in the same direction as his goons. "Nobody likes a schoolyard bully," Severus told him as he left. He was like James at that age—pretentious, arrogant, privileged. "I would think a fifteen year old should know that by now."
He swiftly turned to the infamous trio, and Ron too jumped slightly. "As for you three," Severus continued, maintaining his sternness. "Slytherins are the only ones permitted in the dungeons at this hour. I suggest you take your leave before I deduct points from Gryffindor as well."
Ron and Hermione hurried off quickly without hesitation while Harry stood his ground. "I came to ask you something, actually," he said quickly. "I was wondering if you could, well..." He stopped, slightly hesitating.
Severus crossed his arms. "Well what, Mr. Potter? I haven't got all day."
"I want to spend Christmas holiday with my dad this year," he said.
"I've no issues with that, Harry," said Severus honestly. Christmas mornings felt awkward since his marriage to Lily two, almost three, years ago; Severus always felt like an intruder, Harry's teacher, barging in on mother and son as they opened presents from one another. But Lily never made him feel like an outsider, or like he wasn't wanted. And, more recently, nor did Harry. "But it's your mum you should be asking, not me. And I'm sure she'll say yes."
"I know but... I'm afraid she'll still make me come to the Christmas Eve dinner at the Dursleys."
If he had to go, so did Harry, Severus thought stubbornly to himself. The dinner itself was bearable—Petunia was a decent enough cook—but the judgmental glances and the long pauses throughout the evening were always agonizing to sit through. Lily said James used to hex either Vernon or Dudley, or both—Severus understood why but to remain in his wife's good graces, he chose not to follow in that tradition. The days of making branches fall onto unsuspecting victims were long behind him. Though, he suspected Petunia still held a grudge.
Severus decided to respond how he thought Lily would: "You only have to see them once a year—"
"—which is one time too many, if you ask me," said Harry, and Severus nearly smiled.
"I have no authority in this matter," Severus told him simply after a quick pause, "and I refuse to be your messenger owl..." The boy's eyes rolled; Severus chose to ignore it. "Now, I believe you have a Quidditch match to get to."
Despite reminding the seekers from both teams about the match, Severus himself was late to the game. An unfortunate Slytherin first year was struck by the Leg-Locker Curse on his way to the game and he needed assistance getting free, and to catch the culprit—a Gryffindor third year. When that was all sorted, he found his seat in the stands next to Lily; Slytherins had just scored and most of the crowd was singing Draco's song, "Weasley is our King."
Black, who sat in the seat below him with James at his side, began singing along, oblivious to its meaning. "No, you arse," said James, shutting him up quickly with a slight shove. "Can't you see—they're insulting him..."
"—and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch—" rang Lee Jordan's voice only slightly above the singing:
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Lily clapped frantically beside him, her eyes focused on the moving broomsticks zooming back and forth. "Let's go, Ron!" she shouted, attempting to be louder than the singing around them. Weasley himself looked about ready to plummet to the ground; the Slytherins were certainly not making it easy for him. "Oh poor thing," she said to Severus.
The singing lasted about as long as the match. It ended with Harry catching the snitch, but a Bludger flung by Crabbe hit him before James or Lily, or even Black, could stand to celebrate. Hooch blew her whistle as Harry hit the ground, and Lily let out a worried cry. Thankfully, he was up on his feet mere moments after he had fallen.
"Nice one, Snivellus," sneered Black, and Lily smacked his head.
James eyed Severus for a quick moment before turning his attention back onto Harry, who seemed to be holding back one of the Weasley twins. Severus stood and started down to the field, knowing all too well a fight would ensue. Lily, James and his dog followed suit. Draco said something and then laughed, which prompted Harry to quickly lunge himself forward. Hooch grabbed him, blowing her whistle fiercely, and he punched the air instead of Draco. In the end, everyone involved received detention, and ten points were taken from both houses.
They had been friends first, then nothing... and then they were enemies, then they went back to being nothing again. And, for the most part, he was okay with that—at least she was alive; at least she didn't hate him. Severus received her first letter on his birthday—it was a surprise, after not speaking for so many years—sending him warm wishes; he sent back a thank you—and suddenly they were friends again, sending letters back and forth throughout the coming years. She wrote to him about anything and everything, but mostly she wrote about Harry. After several months of writing back and forth, she invited him to a Christmas party. Severus went, despite his fears of the past and the bullies who tormented him, and the people he tormented out of revenge. He felt odd being there, but she didn't make him feel unwanted—nor did James, surprisingly. He shook his hand and offered him a drink, but Severus didn't drink.
"Do you think I ought to write to Narcissa?" Lily asked when the game had long been over and the two of them were back at home, enjoying a cup tea and a plate of biscuits.
"Narcissa Malfoy?" he said, and she nodded. "Why?"
"To see if Draco's all right," she said. "And to maybe find a way to bring the boys together somehow. I think they could be friends if they got to know each other a little more."
"Draco Malfoy is a bully," said Severus simply, "and his father is an even bigger one. I doubt a letter to Narcissa will do much good, love."
When Harry was nine, Lily wrote to him to say she and James were divorcing. They didn't write or see each other much that year, or the year following.
"Perhaps you're right," Lily said with a sigh. Severus' hand reached over to take hold of hers.
They grew close again when Harry started Hogwarts. He sent a letter when he was sorted into Gryffindor, a congratulations of sorts; she sent back a reply, asking to keep an eye on him, to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble his first year. And they spoke again at Harry's first Quidditch match; she invited him to tea afterwards, and it sort of became their tradition.
"Harry approached me before the game," he said after a moment of comfortable silence. Their hands still touching, she began stroking his palm lightly with her thumb. "He told me he wanted to spend the holiday with James."
"That sounds fine," she said, sipping her tea. "What did you say?"
"I told him it wasn't any of my business."
"Oh, Sev, of course it is," Lily quickly assured. "You're his stepfather."
"Emphasis on step," said Severus, a bit harsher than he intended. He decided to move the conversation along before they dived deeper into Severus' role as a father. "And he doesn't want to go with us to see Tuney Christmas Eve either."
"I suppose that's all right too. I'm sure he'll want to spend that time with James and..." She stopped herself before saying his name. "Though, Dudley might be a bit disappointed."
Severus only nodded, knowing Dudley Dursley probably wouldn't even notice Harry's absence; he would be too busy stuffing his face. But he would never say that out loud, especially to Lily.
The end of term came as quickly as lightning flashing in the sky and they were soon seeing Harry, as well as the rest of the students, off at the train station. They had said their goodbyes in Severus' office the day before—a few kisses on the cheek and a tight embrace from his mother and an awkward side-hug from his stepfather—but Lily still felt the need to kiss and hug him one last time before his departure, reminding Harry just how much they loved him. Severus could have sworn he heard someone snigger—maybe Draco, or one of his goons—at Lily's embrace, but there were too many people to decipher who it was exactly. Harry, embarrassed, pulled away from his mother's touch.
"Let me know you've arrived safely, all right?" she told him. "Be good. Have fun." She blew him a kiss as he boarded the train with Ron and Hermione, and then he quickly reappeared in a passenger car nearby with his head sticking out of the open window. "And don't go riding that motorbike without a helmet. I don't care what Sirius says—we'll see you all on Christmas, okay?" Lily said, blowing him another kiss. "Goodbye, sweetheart. We love you." And Severus gave a meekly wave at the now moving train, his arm wrapping around Lily's waist. "Be safe, my darling!"
They arrived home at their cottage soon after for afternoon tea—and then, as they so often did these days, retired to their bedroom early. She held onto his hand the entire time, kissed him tenderly, reminded him just how much she loved him, as she always did. Two months had gone by since they started trying, and still nothing—to his great relief. She had him start drinking some elixir at the start of the month to speed up the process. His heart and soul remained devoted to her, but he could not find the courage to confess the truth to her: the world didn't need another Snape.
This is the first half of the fic. Stopped here because I was experiencing some writer's block. Let me know if you want to read more, and let me know if you have any questions. Thanks for reading!
