Chapter Sixteen

"You found it! Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost it, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Jules," Lily waved a hand, smiling; "It's just a scarf."

"Where was it?"

Lily shot her a look, her smile turning more mischievous; "You have no idea?"

Julia raised her eyes sideways, pretending to think, even as her lips twitched; "Well. From that look I'm guessing something dirty. Yeah, it's starting to come back to me now."

"Jules, really?" Lily laughed, taking a seat beside her at the table; "Regulus Black? Again?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of fun, Lil'."

"I know but…you remember, you're not the only one?"

"We all know Black."

"And it doesn't bother you? That he…" Lily didn't say anything more, because it seemed almost disrespectful to say it out loud – what a slut Regulus was, even if it were totally true – what with the understanding she had of who he really was and all he had done for her and Harry since before he even really knew them.

"Believe me when I say it, it's worth it. There's a reason all the women are flocking him," Julia stated, grinning, and there wasn't a doubt in Lily's mind as she looked at her that she meant what she was saying – that she really didn't mind that she was simply a 'notch', so to speak – before Julia elaborated, with a cheeky smile; "He's really good."

"Aw, Jules," Lily pressed a hand to her face, laughing as she did, because she really didn't want to hear any more about the sex life of her boss and Severus' best friend.

"Speaking of which, there's a rumour doing the rounds right now, have you heard it?" Julia asked, feigned innocence as she eyed her.

Lily felt her heart sink; "About Grace?"

"Mhm."

"I've heard. It's not true."

Julia tilted her chin, looking at Lily carefully; "I wouldn't be upset if it were, Lily. I remember how it was for the two of you back then. After what happened to Sirius."

"Well, it's not." Lily reasserted, before she drew in a breath, frowning; "I can't believe it got all the way to Veil Baxters."

"Oh, nothing spreads faster than juicy gossip, Lil'," Julia said, with a grin; "Of course, I knew it wasn't true. I've got my money on Grace's mystery dad being a certain tall, dark and sexy Potions Master we all remember."

Lily rolled her eyes, and it was easy to smile under Julia's teasing glance, but she was saved from having to fend off the accusation or lie about it by Grace, appearing in the doorway.

Lily could remember it all as if it were yesterday.

She remembered standing in Severus' chambers in Hogwarts, that night she gone to him, after a week of believing him to be dead, adamant that enough was enough. She wasn't taking no for an answer, not now, not after getting within a hairbreadth of losing him. Time was too short, life was too precious for them to waste any more of it.

Even as he insisted that he was no good for her, could give her nothing, that she deserved more than a life of lies and fear and deceit – as if that was truly all it could be! – she had spoken back with the same vehemence against his arguments; that she could do it, she would do it if only they could be together.

She was that sure of them.

She remembered going head to head with Remus as he demanded she think of the consequences, think of them, think of Harry, and did Severus really know what he was getting into here; would he take James Potter's son as his own. And it had seemed a ludicrous question at the time, no way could Lily ask him that, when he wouldn't even commit to them and now here they were.

And she remembered standing toe to toe with Sirius as he cried betrayal and insanity and dropped the ultimatum on her, there and then, it was him or Severus and she hadn't even entertained it, that she would chose otherwise, and Sirius had walked out the door making the same assertions that both Severus and Remus had made before him.

That they would never make it.

That she would never be happy, not as long as she was choosing this.

And they were wrong.

Obviously, the circumstances were not ideal. Obviously, the reality of the life they had ended up with was far from the picture perfect family life she had been told was the right and normal thing to strive for as a girl. Obviously, it was harder, so much harder, than either she or Severus had imagined it would be as they had finally surrendered themselves to one another that night, a cold and dreary night in November as the world seemed to be crumbling around them.

But of all the years, of all the times and all the memories Lily had made since she was a child, she could honestly say that the happiest, the brightest of them all, could be found in those six years between Voldemort's fall the second time and now, when it was all coming tumbling down.

Harry's face, curious and wide eyed and smiling, as he set eyes on his new baby sister for the first time, placing a kiss to her cheek and giggling in delight when her eyes opened to peer up at her big brother.

Grace running into Severus' arms whenever he could find the chance to come home, to be with them.

Harry standing proudly and tall, showing off his new Hogwarts uniform – Gryffindor, of course – when he returned home for his first Christmas after going to school.

Her children playing and laughing and rolling around in the garden, as Grace looked up to her brother in adoration and Harry down at his sister, utterly besotted.

And it was simple things, really, that made it all worth it.

They were not unhappy.

Lily could do it.

She was certain of it. She could do it. She didn't regret a single thing about this.

The secrets, the lies, none of that mattered as long as they had this and their children were safe and loved.

At least, that was how it was for those blissful six years.

Until now.

Until her son, no longer that little boy who knew no better, needed to be protected, turned to her and declared he wasn't a child anymore and dared her to lie to him.

"A life of lies and deceit…what of your son? Of Lupin? Of Black? You would lie to them?"

Severus had thrown the question at her, in his attempts to make her see sense, and she had been adamant, so, so sure that she could and she would.

But she hadn't had to.

Not really.

Remus had known about it all before it even began, and he knew not to ask any questions, not ever.

And Sirius, he learned of it so quickly afterwards, that those few months of secrecy were merely a blip and it wasn't that she had kept it from him that made the situation a betrayal to him, no. It was who she had fallen for, that was where the issue lay there.

But Harry.

Seven years old at the time, she could pass it off, turn a blind eye, lying wasn't necessary because simple misdirection was more than enough. Grace came along when he was still so young and, without a father himself, the question of hers couldn't be further from his mind until, suddenly, one day, it wasn't.

And, for the life of her, Lily couldn't do it.

She could look into the eyes of her son and lie to him. But misdirection wasn't cutting it and even the half truth that, 'yes, there was a secret' and 'no, I can't tell you', did nothing to satisfy him, nor was it enough to lift the weight that had, quite suddenly, come crushing down upon her when she realised just how deep she and Severus had gotten themselves into this. How there was no way they were ever going to be able to climb out of it, not before this war was done, not if they wanted to keep their children safe. To give them all the best chance of getting through this, just of surviving it.

But it was going on too long now.

Far longer than either she or Severus could have predicted.

Her little boy was becoming a man right before her eyes, time ticking by mercilessly, and her daughter, from baby to child, and Voldemort still hadn't risen, and she and Severus had foolishly hoped and dreamed that this would all be done with by now and they'd be living that fairytale life that folklore and pop culture told them was normal.

That dream seemed so far out of reach now that Lily had to content herself with one simple fact.

That even if her children hated her for it, for the lies, the secrets, even if she lost them that it was better that they did so and lived, rather than put them in danger just so they could know the truth.

Because the truth, in this case, was in no way liberating, as Remus was quick to point out when he confronted her.

And if Remus resented her for knowing it then what chance did her children have, having to bear the burden of it.

And, yes, Severus was right.

There was no way they could do that to them.

They were children. Growing up, maybe, but they were innocent and pure and they deserved to keep that for as long as she could give it to them.

And so she would.

Her thoughts carried on, all through the evening, long after Julia left until she was tucking Grace into bed that night, after her story had ended.

Innocent questions from her daughter, now, that Lily answered as truly as she possibly could.

"Mummy, when is Daddy coming home?"

"When it's safe, Sweetheart."

"How come it's not safe now?" Grace frowned.

Lily brushed the hair back from her forehead, leaning down to press a kiss before she spoke; "Because that's what Daddy does. He makes sure the world is safe for us."

"Oh."

Lily tucked her in tight, just the way she likes, and drew back; "But you can speak to him, you know. Say things that you think he might like to hear. And I could write them down, to give them to him when he comes back."

Grace smiled; "We could?"

Lily nodded and Grace's eyes lit up, her smile widening.

Lily leaned down, kissing her cheek; "We'll write a letter tomorrow."

"Okay, Mummy."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"Night, night. Sleep tight."

"That's right," Lily chuckled, as she lifted her wand, a quiet 'nox' uttered, before she slipped from the room.

Harry still felt rotten about it all, what he'd seen in Snape's memories, even days later, his conversation with Remus doing nothing to reconcile the men he'd thought he knew with the very real visions of what they were at school.

He tried to tell himself that his Uncle Remus was right, they were just plonkers, that was all. They were just kids. They didn't know any better.

But that was just rubbish.

He knew better.

And Harry was a kid. He'd bet his own friends might even look back on some of the things he did now and call him a plonker, too. But he knew, without doubt, he'd never do any of those things that he'd seen in those memories.

He'd never make anyone feel the way he was sure Snape had and then laugh it all off as if it were a joke.

And, so, it was with those thoughts and assurances, that Harry had gone back to his Occlumency lessons, later that week. And obviously he was utterly terrible at it now, totally unable to focus, completely distracted by his newfound knowledge of what his dad and Godfather had done to the man in front of him. Harry was entirely certain that the reason Snape didn't like him was because of it all.

Harry didn't know why he cared so much what Snape thought of him, all of a sudden.

All he knew was that he did.

"Come on, Potter. You can do better than this."

Snape was frustrated, Harry could tell; that exasperated tone in the professor's voice when he, once again, managed to penetrate his mind with barely any resistance at all.

Try as he might, Harry just couldn't focus.

"I'm trying. I don't know why I can't do it," Harry lied, knowing full well why not.

They both did.

And Snape wasn't going to let him off with that, calling him out without missing a beat.

"You know exactly why, Mr Potter, we both do."

Harry sighed, shuffling on the spot, avoiding his eyes.

"We have been over this again and again. Control your emotions. Stop wearing that bleeding heart on your sleeve."

"I'm not wearing my heart on my sleeve," Harry denied the claim, vehemently, wondering why, why, did he even care what had happened back then, anyway; Snape was an arse!

"Prove it."

Snape lifted his wand but he didn't speak the incantation. He waited, raising an eyebrow, waiting for the nod to go ahead. Harry's shoulders almost dropped but he knew better than to provoke Snape further with his defiance, so he mustered up as much control as he could, tried to erect some barriers at least, and nodded his head.

"Legillimens."

"So cocky he'd send another kid down a tunnel to a werewolf and think it's okay?"

It was his conversation with Remus and Harry tried to fight back against it, succeeding in only rippling it somewhat, a quick glimpse of himself and Remus when he was younger, playing in the garden and Grace was there too, only a toddler, and so was his mum, and it seemed like Snape pressed a little further then, trying to see the memory more clearly, his mum and his sister's smiling faces, but then the memory from earlier that week was back.

Too much at the forefront of Harry's mind.

"How could they do that? Why would they?"

"Your father and Professor Snape, and your Uncle Sirius, they had a very complicated relationship."

The office was back again.

Snape pulling out of the memory without any need for him to fight against it.

Harry expected to see Snape's glowering face when his vision cleared but he was presented with his back instead, as the Potions Master strode to his desk.

"Take a few minutes."

"I don't need a few minutes."

Snape stopped in his footsteps and Harry was sure he was rolling his eyes, before he turned back to face him.

"Potter. Get it together."

"I can't!" Harry burst out, unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer; "I saw it. I know what happened. And just because my dad did that to you, it doesn't mean that I –"

Snape held up a hand.

"I shall stop you there, Potter. This is not a topic that is up for discussion. By all means, bend Professor Lupin's ear about the trials and tribulations of your father to your hearts content, but do not bring your emotional baggage into my classroom."

Harry glowered at him; "It's your emotional baggage, too, though, right."

Snape's eyes narrowed; "Ten points, Mr Potter. For your insolence. And spare me the theatrics, do not fool yourself into believing that the boy you witnessed in those memories is any reflection of the man who stands before you now."

"You've spent the past three years giving me detentions for nothing, ignoring me whenever I offer up any answers in classes and –"

"Lo, the theatrics go on. You are certainly your Godfather's…"

There was a pause.

A heavy one, when Snape broke off.

Harry wasn't sure what Snape had been about to say. 'Son', maybe, as that seemed like the best fit. Though how Snape knew that his Uncle Sirius had raised him, Harry didn't know. Had he kept tabs on them, his dad and Sirius, since they'd left Hogwarts?

Snape said nothing further. Instead, he drew in a breath, as if to compose himself, and looked away.

Harry took it as an invitation to continue himself.

"Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that my dad –"

Snape gave an irritated exhale that was almost a growl.

"Enough. You seem to be under the impression that I hold you in some way responsible for your father's shortcomings. Let me assure you, right now, that is not the case. At this moment in time, my displeasure is entirely due to your own. So do as I ask. Get it together. And keep me out of that blinking head of yours or so help me, I will think nothing of hauling you back into this office every day for the remainder of the year until you do."

"You're such a…"

Harry stopped himself, suddenly remembering who it was he was talking to and why was he talking to him this way, anyway?

A few weeks ago he wouldn't have dreamed of it. Of speaking to Snape at all. He didn't know why, what had done it, what had made him feel as if he was entirely safe to do so, the tiny ways that things had changed between them over the past few weeks.

Because, sure enough, Snape was speaking to him with a strange familiarity, too. One that shouldn't exist.

But he quickly reminded himself, looking at the glint in Snape's eyes as he regarded him, daring him to finish his sentence, that he was entirely mistaken and Snape would crush him if he weren't careful.

"Go on."

Snape's voice was dangerously soft when he spoke.

Harry pursed his lips together.

Yeah, right.

Snape's lips twitched but it wasn't a sneer, no. Harry almost thought he was going to smile.

Why would he smile?

Snape was totally bonkers, Harry decided.

Harry didn't know whether he was coming or going when it came to the Potions Professor.

"You have one minute, Mr Potter. And then we resume."

Snape's back was to him again and Harry released a breath he didn't know he was holding, his shoulders dropping, and he simply stared at the man's back for the full minute that had been granted, trying to make sense of him.

Harry didn't feel quite so awful now, the verbal sparring between them easing the weight somewhat, as he assured himself that surely Snape would have gotten his own back, in some way, against them. Harry had spent the past few days imagining a wretched soul, skittering amongst the Hogwarts shadows, in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to himself from his father and Uncle Sirius.

But that wasn't Snape.

Harry was sure that the boy in the memories was just as proud, back then, as the man before him was, now. No matter how much Snape tried to assure him that they were both entirely different, with time.

Snape would have gotten his own back.

Harry found that he secretly hoped that he had.

Snape turned abruptly to face him once more.

"Ready now?"

Harry nodded, immediately.

Pulled up as much resistance as he could and waited for it.

"Legillimens."

Harry pushed back against it.

The office was swimming before him, his line of vision hazy but it was still there, he could still see Snape and the desk and the shelves behind him. Remus in his chambers, talking to him, it was there, too, but the office was the prominent focus and Harry felt himself becoming excited, pushing back as best he could and then Snape prodded a little further.

And, suddenly, it wasn't Remus' chambers or their conversation or the office that Harry could see anymore.

It was simply darkness.

There was a 'hissssss' coming from his own lips as he slithered, blindly, through it.

Darkness gave way to fire light and masked faces, the ones from his nightmares, were suddenly surrounding him.

And then that voice. The voice Harry would never forget.

"Soon, my friends. Soon."

Harry fought it. Fought it with all his might and cried out, pushing back as hard as he could, until he felt his knees collide sharply with the stone floor of Snape's office. Before Harry could fully make sense of what had happened, he felt a hand curl round his arm and pull him to his feet. It wasn't painful, no, but it wasn't exactly gentle either and Snape was right in his face when his vision cleared.

"What was that, Potter?"

Harry gave himself a mental shake; "Uh…I…I don't know."

"It was not a memory."

Harry swallowed, meeting Snape's eyes, feeling suddenly uneasy; "No."

"Nor was it a fabrication, I presume."

Harry only shook his head.

Snape pursed his lips together, eyes narrowing, and Harry could tell Snape was uneasy and he was paler than usual, too, as he looked straight at him, seemingly contemplating what he had just seen.

"Mr Potter. Please, explain to me, why you did not think it necessary to inform someone that you have been having visions of the Dark Lord?"

"I…they…they're not 'visions'. They're just nightmares. I've been having them for months."

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently.

Snape hand came up, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as his eyes squeezed shut.

"And I did," Harry quickly added; "I told my mum. That's why I'm here, isn't it? She told Professor Dumbledore and he wants me to learn this to stop them or something."

"These are not typical nightmares, Potter. Surely even you are aware of that. You know very well whose voice that was."

"I didn't want to make a fuss."

"A fuss," Snape repeated, quietly, staring straight back at him, even as he drew away somewhat, releasing the hold he had of Harry's arm.

Snape was looking at him as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was the most idiotic being to ever grace the planet.

He turned on his heel, abruptly, striding to his desk, and began gathering up some of the items upon it – parchment, a quill, a jar of ink – and then walked with the same purpose back towards him, going by him, and placing each item with a thud onto the small side table by the chair next to where Harry stood.

"You will write down everything that you have seen. Every word. Every face. Every location."

"What?"

"Now."

"Why?"

"Because, Potter, you are having visions of the Dark Lord. And this information may provide key to his whereabouts."

"I…I thought that Vold – I didn't think he was alive anymore. I…I thought that he was gone."

For now, at least.

"As did I, Mr Potter."

Harry stared at Snape for a minute, and he was suddenly frightened, so frightened that he felt like he might actually cry.

Snape's expression, which had been conveying a most definite apprehension of his own, softened somewhat as he looked at him. And then Snape reached out, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry thought it was supposed to be reassuring, fooled by the way it squeezed, ever so slightly for a second, but then Snape guided him sideways, urging him to sit.

So, it wasn't comfort then, Harry realised, even as the hand lingered a little longer than necessary after he lowered himself onto the chair, before it dropped, and Snape returned to his desk at the front of the room.

Harry drew in a trembling breath, trying to push away his anxiety, and remember it all. Everything he had seen in his dreams since they had started, seemingly so long ago now, and lifted the quill Snape had put on the table, dipping it into the jar, and, after a minute of attempting to recount it, began to write it all down.