Thanks to everyone who has been reading this story. Updates are spaced apart because I'm having a bit of trouble deciding where I want this to go, but I think it's finally clear to me now. If anything, this is becoming a Snape/Lily story and a Snape/Harry friendship with only a hint of something more, which I think will be more effective in the long run.

And thanks for your reviews, on this and all my other fics.

Chapter 4 – A Bold Request

Between a deluge of homework, Quidditch practice, and the fact he would be facing the entire wizarding world in less than a month, Harry was on a slow decline. He had told Ron and Hermione about the speech. Ron was sympathetic, but Hermione encouraged him, saying it was his chance to tell his story his way and set the record straight.

His spirits were even worse the morning when two pictures of himself and Snape were on the front page of the Prophet, announcing their speech to the public.

'Great,' Harry said, throwing the paper back onto the table.His eyes roved the Head Table and landed on Snape, who looked even more sour than usual.

'What does it matter now?' Harry asked Hermione in a rather harsh tone. 'It's over, he's gone. Why can't everyone just be happy with that?'

'People want to know what you went through to save them,' she said between bites of cereal. 'No matter how you choose to look at it, you're a hero. Snape too, and the public is hungry for information about the two people who saved them.'

'Maybe so, but given what Snape and I had to endure, we don't owe anyone anything…'

Harry didn't realize just how loudly he was talking, nor did he realize that Snape had long since mastered lip reading. Snape stared as inconspicuously as he could at the young Gryffindor as he spoke, and took comfort in knowing that, of all the things Harry was, at least he wasn't a liar.

--

Friday evening came around, and once again, Snape had lost track of time. He stumbled backwards out of the Pensieve at five after seven. Taking care to lock his door and cast the charm to take the puffiness from his eyes, he hurried out to meet Harry, who was sitting at a front row desk.

'I expect you have completed the first draft of your speech like I asked,' Snape said without preamble or salutation as he sat down behind his desk.

'Yes, sir,' Harry replied somewhat wearily, and he sighed.

Snape, picking up on Harry's non-verbal cues, said, 'I know this is difficult, Potter. I can't say that I enjoyed writing my first draft either, but we may as well do this with dignity and get it over with as painlessly as possible.'

An odd sensation of comfort washed over Harry at Snape's reassurance, and he wasn't sure quite how to feel. Harry nodded. 'At least I'm not going through this alone.'

Snape cleared his throat and seemed to be fascinated by the wood grain of his desk top. 'You were never alone, Potter.'

For a moment, Harry thought Snape meant that he had been watching over him and was just about to open his mouth to thank him when Snape spoke again. 'The entire wizarding world is enamored with you, and has been for 16 years. You have Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. The Weasley family has all but adopted you. Countless people have gone to extreme lengths to ensure your safety. No, Potter,' Snape said bitterly as he strode over to a cabinet on the far wall. 'You haven't the slightest inkling as to what it's like to be alone.'

Harry's gaze followed Snape. 'It seems all I know how to do is make you hate me even more.'

'I don't hate –' Snape said, but caught himself once he realized what he was saying.

'What did you say?' Harry asked, sitting up in his seat.

Snape sighed, still facing away from Harry. 'I don't hate you, Potter. I just –' his voice trailed off. 'I have nothing more to say about the matter,' he said abruptly, returning to his desk. 'Read your speech to me.'

Harry complied, and read what he had written. Upon completion, he waited for Snape's usual barrage of insults to crumble the entire thing. At first, he was met only by silence. Harry had learned long ago that Snape's silence was not a bad sign.

Finally, he said, 'That's not as bad as it might have been,' and he seemed genuinely surprised. 'I am pleased to see you are taking this endeavour and my requests seriously.'

'Is this a compliment from Professor Snape?' Harry said lightheartedly.

Snape glared at him. 'Your transformation astounds me, Potter. While you have at last learned some semblance of respect, you are still as impertinent as ever.'

'I just think you should smile, Professor.'

'Perhaps if I had a reason, I would, but until then, you are to rewrite your speech, making minor corrections to sentences you feel need improvement. And if that is all, you are dismissed.'

'You aren't going to read yours?' Harry asked incredulously.

'No, I am not.'

'I thought we were doing this together.'

'You seem to forget that I am merely helping you to avoid embarrassing me –'

'So this is all about you?'

'Do not interrupt me, Potter,' Snape snarled. 'And for your backtalk, you've just earned yourself detention tomorrow night at seven.'

Without a word, Harry walked to the door and left.

--

At seven the next night he found himself back in the gloom of the professor's dungeon, waiting for his punishment. Snape emerged from his office. 'Follow me,' he said.

Harry followed Snape to the storeroom that looked more like an apothecary. On the workbench sat a several large containers filled with various potion ingredients. 'These just arrived this afternoon, and you will assist me in preparing them for storage.'

Snape retrieved two pairs of gloves and knives. 'Put these on,' he said handing the gloves to Harry. 'Start with these,' he pointed to a container with large root-like plants sticking out haphazardly. 'These need to be diced and put into those jars containing the blue liquid,' he explained, pointing to the shelves on the wall. 'Simple enough, I hope.'

'Yes, no problem, sir.'

Snape began working further down the table and they worked in silence. More often than not, he would steal glances of Snape as he worked meticulously. What was it about this man that made him feel… he wasn't sure how to define what he felt, because it was complicated. Grateful. Yes, he was definitely grateful for Snape's protection that had existed around him. And for that he felt that he owed Snape a debt. But then Harry remembered that reel of memories that played in his mind, even though he had returned them to Snape. The man that stood before him had been hurt in a way he prayed he never would have to experience. And as Harry thought about it, he realized that whatever he was, whoever he was, Snape was motivated by one thing, and one thing alone.

His love for Lily.

'You're not here to slack off, Potter, now get to work or you'll be back here again tomorrow night.'

Snape's words brought him out of his reverie. 'Sorry.'

'Were you daydreaming?' Snape asked, a hint of mockery in his acerbic voice.

'Not really, just thinking.'

'In that case, you need to learn how to multitask.'

Harry had a sudden urge to tell Snape exactly what he was thinking, because finally it all made sense.

'I think I figured out what you meant yesterday when you said you didn't hate me.'

Snape continued working as though he had heard nothing, but Harry was not dissuaded.

'You hate me not because of who I am, but because of what I am.'

'Potter, you're straying toward dangerous territory,' Snape warned.

'I finally understand,' Harry said. 'You hate the fact that I am the son of someone you hated and someone you –'

'DON'T say another word, Potter!' Snape spat, slamming his knife onto the table with such force that a jar fell onto the floor and broke. Snape stared at Harry. 'What exactly are you trying to accomplish? Do you not think that I know perfectly well why I feel the way I do?' Snape struggled to maintain his composure, but it appeared he was losing the battle against his emotions. His dark eyes glistened with his pain and he looked away in shame.

Harry set aside his gloves and knife and went to Snape, whose breathing had become shallow. His body shook, and Harry didn't know what to do, but overwhelming instinct told him to just reach out to him. Rounding on Snape so they were face to face, Harry pulled him into his arms.

Harry expected him to resist, to protest, to order him from his presence, but he wasn't met by any of that. 'What are you doing?' Snape asked feebly, his voice thick with tears.

Harry, too, wondered what he was doing. Surely this bordered on insane. 'Shhh,' he said soothingly as he rested his head against Snape's. Harry held the thin form of Severus Snape as he was reduced to sobs that consumed him. Harry, still overwhelmed by the moment's oddness and intensity, stroked his long black hair reassuringly.

'It's okay, Prof – Severus,' Harry said, feeling formality had long since flown out the window. He wasn't comforting a teacher, he was comforting a broken man. 'I'm so sorry,' Harry said, and he too, began to weep.

Finally, Snape brought his arms up and embraced Harry, which Harry hadn't expected. As he stood there, Harry wondered how many times Snape had cried alone, with no one to comfort him.

The moments went on as the two men stood together in the storeroom, everyone and everything forgotten save for the sting of grief that, for Snape, never seemed to heal.

Suddenly, Snape's body tensed up and Harry let go. 'I think that will do for tonight, Potter,' Snape said. 'You may go.'

'Are you okay, sir?'

'Yes, I'm fine,' Snape said, wiping his eyes and abruptly returning to his work. 'Go. Now. And what transpired here goes no further than this room. Understood?'

Harry nodded. 'Of course.'

Harry left, leaving Snape feeling a right fool. He swore at himself for his weakness, for breaking down in front of a student. But the boy was no ordinary student. Harry knew the truth about him – the hideous, ugly, and unchangeable truth, and he didn't know if he could bear it. Not only that, but Harry was both a blessing and a curse, and Snape didn't know how to feel about him anymore.

Unable to concentrate any longer on his task, he returned to his room where he fell into a restless sleep.

--

Harry sat through Potions with Hermione the following day, and noticed that Snape seemed to be ignoring him. In all of Harry's previous years, Snape seemed to have Harry radar, and never passed up the chance to torment him and humiliate him. That he was used to, but being ignored was a bit unnerving, and while he understood why, it didn't make him feel any better.

After class, Harry lingered behind the other students, deliberately stalling. 'Move along, Potter,' Snape said without looking up from the papers he was grading.

Harry approached Snape's desk. 'Sir, I want to talk to you about something.'

'Do be quick,' he said indifferently.

Harry set his books down on the desk behind him. His pulse raced. 'You have something I want.'

Snape looked up from the papers. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You have something I want,' Harry repeated.

'I heard you the first time,' Snape spat, 'and I assure you, I have nothing of yours.'

'I didn't say you have something of mine, sir. But you are the only one who can help me.'

'Well, out with it.'

Harry inhaled deeply. He was afraid of the kind of response he would get. 'I would like you to show me more memories of my mother.'

If it was possible for Snape to turn even paler, he did. He stared at Harry as though he had gone mad. He set his quill into the inkwell. 'Have you completely taken leave of your senses, Potter?'

'No.'

'I beg to differ.'

'But you gave me your memories before –'

Snape cast a spell on the classroom door, which slammed shut. Snape rounded on Harry in a low and dangerous tone. His eyes glittered with rage. 'I didn't plan on living, you stupid boy! Had I known I would be here today, I never would have given you anything. You have been a thorn in my side just as your father before you…'

Harry tried to remain calm as Snape scorned him. 'Sir, please, I don't want to upset you –'

'So you claim,' Snape interjected, 'yet you seem relentless in drudging up the very topic that causes me the most grief, so forgive me if I don't believe your intentions are innocent.'

'But you are the one who loves her. You have the most detailed memories of her.' Harry was nearly on the brink of tears. 'Please, sir, you are the only person who can help me know my mother.'

Snape sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He was in an awkward situation. On one hand, he was in no hurry to make himself even more vulnerable to Harry, but on the other, Lily probably would have wanted it. Harry could tell he was torn.

Finally he compromised and said, 'I'll have to think about it. But I don't want to hear another word about it from you,' he added sharply.

Harry smiled. 'Thank you.'

And with that, Harry went to join his friends for an outing to Hogsmeade, leaving Snape to wonder just how much longer he'd be able to hold up beneath his true feelings for The Boy Who Lived.