Hi hello there, have another cheery chapter about Snape's fulfilling happy life. :)

Next installment will feature Harry in it. From then on out, the timeline will cover what was in the books. Not sure if this story is going to hit 20 chapters like I said. It might end up being only 16 or 17 chapters (this includes the Prologue and Epilogue). There were a couple of chapters I wrote that I decided to delete because they weren't really relevant to anything. Since this story is about Snape's feelings for Lily, it's hard to decide what to write about once I get to the point where I'm treading where the books all went. Mostly it's going to be Severus's POV of first seeing Harry, his reactions to his and Harry's Occlumency lessons, how he felt when he found the Mirror of Erised, things like that. I'll probably be finished with this story in a week or two? I want to get everything out before Pottermore decides to mess with my outline by for instance telling us that Severus had a long and satisfying affair with Winky the house elf or something.

Anyway, this chapter is sort of a "day in the life" of Severus Snape. Hope you like it. Thanks for reading.

Hogwarts

January, 1990

About an hour before dawn, Severus Snape stirred out of his narrow bed, and in the dark pulled off his nightshirt, then drew on his robes. Only when all was in order did he grope for his wand on his nightstand and make the torches flicker with firelight. The orange flame dimly revealed a small stone room, dank and cold and bare save for the narrow bed, its indifferent bedclothes, and the nightstand. But this room was not for living in, merely for slumber.

It was the room adjacent to it in which Severus spent his most important hours: a room much larger than the former, filled from top to bottom along the walls with potions, jars, and books, and in the center a vast table upon which its owner masterfully brewed potions both common and obscure.

What summoned Severus to rise at this hour was the desire to finish a tricky potion of his own invention, a serum to treat hippogriff bites. There were others out there, but none that worked quickly, or did not leave behind a nasty illness all its own. It had always been an enjoyable pastime of Severus's to improve on the potions of others, and he was skilled enough at such things that Madame Pomfrey often lamented he hadn't become a healer at St. Mungo's.

This was his favorite hour of the day, when the rest of the castle was asleep, and he became so absorbed in his work that he lost track of the world outside. There was also the keen joy of doing something he knew he excelled at, that rare satisfaction of mastery put to work. And the silvery simmering cauldron before him was hypnotic, filling the room with a pungent scent that meant the potion was coming along as planned. Therefore it was with some regret that he was interrupted by a knock on his door, for it meant it was time to lay his work aside, and take part in the Hogwarts routine once more.

"And what brings you to call on me at this hour of the morning, Mr. Warrington," Snape demanded coldly when he swung open the heavy door and looked down to see one of the Slytherin prefects.

"Well, Professor, I was just patrolling the halls, making sure nothing was amiss, you see," the boy explained, "when I came upon a Gryffindor student wandering around outside of the Slytherin common room. It seemed suspicious, Sir."

"Where is he now?"

"I chased him away," the boy replied proudly.

"And what do you propose I do about it?"

"Just thought I should let you know, Professor."

"Who was it?"

"Weasley."

"Which. One," Severus asked acidly.

"I don't know, Sir. They all look the same."

Severus repressed a sigh of annoyance, then said "Duly noted, Mr. Warrington. You're dismissed."

By the time Severus made his way up the stairs to the Great Hall, dawn had broken, and the windows lit the castle with a thin watery light. It did not surprise Severus in the least that the day should be a dreary one, wherein a cold rain washed away the snow from the rooftops and left the sky a muddy grey. Some students of his house passed by him on the way to the Hall for breakfast, the hems of their black robes swishing about their legs as they cackled merrily over something that Severus had no doubt was of a diabolical nature. "Good morning, Professor," one of them hailed, and Severus nodded in return. The only students in the school who could be said to like Severus were his own Slytherins, though to be fair, they were the only students Severus himself liked, and treated them accordingly. "We're going to smash Gryffindor at Quiddich this year, aren't we Professor?" called another, to which Severus soberly replied "I'll be gravely disappointed if we don't, Mr. Flint."

"That's right, Professor. We'll make them eat dirt." And the boys fled up the staircase with hoots of laughter while Severus followed them at a more decorous pace.

Breakfast was as it ever was, pumpkin juice and pancakes and marmalade, though Severus himself merely had tea and toast with no jam, and his only owl was the one who brought him his Daily Prophet. As he perused the newspaper and drank his tea, Pomona Sprout initiated a conversation with him about herbs, which Severus returned with some interest until Hagrid interrupted by asking Severus if he had any potions for dog illnesses, since Fang was sick.

"I am not a veterinarian, Mr. Hagrid," Severus replied tersely, folding his paper before standing up from the table. "Pomona, I'll see you this afternoon about the Mandrake."

"Very well, Severus," Pomona replied cheerfully, and Severus swept out of the Hall, ignoring the rude whispers from the Gryffindor table as he passed it. Make them eat dirt, indeed.

Fortunately, Severus's morning class was seventh years, all of whom were preparing for their N.E.W.T.s in Potions. This meant that there were few of them, and merely one misplaced Gryffindor among the two Slytherins and three Ravenclaws. As Severus only accepted those who got an O in their Potions O.W.L., these students were not as dim-witted as the ones in his other classes, and therefore not as messy in their mishaps.

"You will not require your textbooks today," Severus said when class commenced. "Rather," he went on, waving his wand at the blackboard, "you will follow these instructions here."

"Wolfsbane potion?" a Ravenclaw student asked in puzzlement. "What's that?"

"It is a treatment for those afflicted with lycanthropy."

"You mean werewolves?" grinned a Slytherin named Drummle.

"Precisely, Mr. Drummle. Five points to Slytherin."

"I didn't know there was a cure for that," the Ravenclaw student said.

"I said a treatment, not a cure, you silly girl," Severus sniffed. "There is no cure at present. But this potion is quite new, and I will warn you, very difficult to make. I highly doubt that any of you will succeed. Nevertheless, one does not learn by always doing what is easy or convenient. You may begin."

As he wandered about the classroom inspecting the inevitable failures of his students' work, Severus sighed to himself, and wondered if this was really all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life: students sundry and ignorant and tiresome, students who eventually left Hogwarts to take part in the world while he stayed here, where nothing ever changed. And he was well aware that, to them, he was not much more than one of the school's stone gargoyles: beneath their notice until he made them notice.

In a way, he hoped that his life would end sooner rather than later, for that was far preferable than living on past the point of endurance as a worthless relic. However, he knew that things would soon change for him, one way or another: next year, the boy will begin his education at Hogwarts, and Severus will be called upon to be on his guard far more than he'd been since assuming his post as professor. It would make things easier for Severus if the boy were sorted into Slytherin, but no doubt he would take after his parents and enter into Gryffindor instead. The thought of this drew an expression of disgust across Severus's face.

After he'd given his entire class (except the two Slytherins) zero marks for the day, he dismissed them and, ignoring their sullen complaints, exited the classroom to his office. There he entered into his grade book the seventh years' marks for the morning, then checked the hippogriff serum. It was a fine rust color now; all it required was fresh Mandrake leaf, and it would be complete.

He spent the rest of the morning writing letters to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley requesting ingredients to replenish his supplies, and making a list of things he meant to gather in the Forbidden Forest. When lunchtime came around he left his office and went to the Great Hall again, taking only more tea and a sandwich as his gaze absently wandered about the Hall. The Gryffindor table was gaudy with redheads, most of whom belonged to that detestable Weasley brood, though he had nothing against Molly or Arthur, despite Arthur's silly obsession with Muggles. There was the table of smiling Hufflepuffs, and then the haughty Ravenclaws, then his own house, where it appeared a subset of his students had gathered close to plot something Severus was sure meant trouble for the Gryffindors. He smirked to himself with grim satisfaction.

After lunch he visited Pomona in the greenhouses, where she snipped off for him some fresh young Mandrake leaf. Most people were only familiar with the uses of the root, but skilled potioneers knew that the leaf, too, had its own interesting qualities. Pomona and he enjoyed a brief conversation of professional interest regarding the uses of herbs in general, and then he returned to the castle and his office, where he masticated the leaves and dropped them into the cauldron containing the unfinished hippogriff serum. The serum immediately turned a violent shade of purple, before clearing into a delicate lavender. He would let it simmer until after supper, and then it would be done.

Unfortunately, afternoons meant double Potions with the Gryffindors, where it seemed Severus was taking points off from Gryffindor house every time he turned round thanks to the odious Weasley twins. They appeared to especially target Severus with their by-now notorious pranks, and in return Severus especially tended to give them notorious detentions. In a way they were like James and Sirius all over again, except this time Severus was able to exact his revenge quite satisfactorily by, say, ordering them to scrub bedpans in the Infirmary without the use of magic. When class concluded, Severus had a visit with Filch to explain that he had the pleasure of offering up the Weasley twins for him to do as he liked, and after Filch scraped and bowed to Severus in that annoyingly servile way of his, Severus swept away and made for the Great Hall in time for supper. He allowed himself a decent portion of pudding and pumpkin juice, then he returned to his office, where he checked the hippogriff serum, ensured it was done, and poured it into a stone flask. With it he went to the Infirmary.

"But this is just what we needed!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed when Severus presented the hippogriff serum to her. "Upon my word, Severus, these children never learn. I do believe Dumbledore's admonitions not to go the Forbidden Forest only inspires them to greater heights of foolishness."

"I don't doubt it, Poppy," Severus agreed as she led him to her office and offered him some tea. Severus knew that he was a favorite of Poppy's, and the feeling was quite mutual; for, when he was a schoolboy, he'd spent much time in the Infirmary either due to the frequent illnesses he'd suffered, or because of the pranks that fiend Potter and his friends played on him nearly constantly. It was while Poppy treated him for his many complaints that they became friends, and he saw in her the mother figure he felt he should have had; for she was the only one of the staff who seemed to genuinely like him, and feel some compassion for him. Perhaps it was a reason why he was so devoted to making antidotes and other serums for her use.

"It's lucky you decided to drop by, Severus," Poppy said, placing the serum right in the middle of her desk and then pulling open a drawer. "You hadn't thought I'd forgotten, have you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you were being dishonest," she said, holding a book out for him. Puzzled, he took it from her-and gasped involuntarily when he saw it was a venerable grimoire of ancient healing potions and antidotes. Not even his vast library had a thing so fine.

"It's extraordinary," he breathed, opening the book and turning the delicate pages. An almost boyish excitement thrilled him as he perused it, and it must have shown on his face, since Poppy said "I'm very pleased you like it, Severus. It's worth anything to see you smile like that."

Was he smiling? Indeed he was. He flushed a bit with confusion, then said in the most dignified voice he could muster "This is a rare book, Poppy. A valuable thing. Where did you find it?"

"At Borgin and Burkes," she shrugged.

"Poppy!"

"Well, why not?" she asked defensively. "I don't suppose you've never been there yourself."

"I'm not accusing you," Severus assured her. "It just surprises me, that's all."

"Why should it?"

"Because you seem so innocent."

"Hmph!"

"Anyway Poppy, I should like to borrow this, if I may," Severus said, holding the book almost reverently.

"Borrow it? You foolish man, it's yours!"

"Mine?"

"Yes! Happy birthday, Severus Snape."

"Oh," he said softly, gazing down at the book so that his hair fell over his face. He could feel dampness gathering in his eyes, and it would not do for her to see. Why should the fact that someone had remembered affect him so?

"Well, you can show your gratitude by preparing an antidote for me from that book," Poppy said teasingly, though there was a gentleness in her tone that comforted him. "Ideally, something that would prevent foolish gamekeepers from adopting dangerous animals."

"I'm afraid no potion exists to render that miracle," Severus said with a sneer, and Poppy laughed merrily at that.

"Oh bother, what now," Poppy sighed when they heard a frantic voice summon her in the Infirmary. "No doubt one of your students has hexed another Gryffindor. That'd be the third time today!"

"Or another Gryffindor had hexed one of my students," Severus replied evenly, standing up when she did.

"I dread your houses' Quidditch match this year," she shook her head. "Whenever Gryffindor plays Slytherin, every bed of my ward fills up," and she hurriedly departed out of her office to attend the wailing student (a Hufflepuff, after all).

On his way to his office from the Infirmary, Severus was waylaid by Warrington, who gave Severus a full report of the day's events, including several offenses committed against Slytherins by the Weasely twins. Severus told Warrington that as he was not Gryffindor's head of house there wasn't a tremendous amount he could do about the Weasley twins besides give them detention, but that he would speak to Professor McGonagall, who was head of Gryffindor. No sooner had he shaken off Warrington than he was accosted by Marcus Flint, who asked if Severus could reserve the Quidditch pitch for the Slytherins to practice on for all the Saturdays leading up to the match against Gryffindor. Severus assured him he would, then stepped into his office at last, where he closed the door behind him with finality.

It would be many hours before he would feel tired enough for sleep, Severus knew. As he didn't receive any summons to Dumbledore's chambers that night, he perused the book that Poppy had given him until his vision began to blur from staring at the small, arcane print. By the time he'd set it aside it was past one in the morning, and, after considering his options, he made a decision, and stood up from his chair.

In recent years, Severus had come to the appalling realization that his memories were beginning to fade. Things that had once been crystal clear to him in his mind were now fuzzy around the edges. Details that had once been sharp were now difficult for him to recall precisely. As a man whose soul was sustained by memories, this discovery was devastating.

Over the winter holiday, Dumbledore had told him about the uses of the Pensieve, and demonstrated how it worked. Since then, he'd let Severus borrow his from time to time, and now, Severus went to a cabinet in his office, opened it, and removed the Pensieve from its place.

On one shelf of the cabinet stood an array of flasks that held memories Severus valued above all others. To prevent their fading into nothingness, he preserved them in these vessels, for the curious thing about memories is that they only decayed in the mind.

It wasn't difficult to decide which one to choose. Severus selected a delicate green glass bottle, and took it the Pensieve. While his office contained many things, one thing it was absent of was a mirror. But now, as he stared at the Pensieve's quiet surface, he saw his own reflection, and noted that the thirty years of his life did not wear well on him. That no one in all this time had ever seen anything in him to admire was not particularly astonishing. But the fact that Lily Evans did, once, was merely the natural order of things. As she'd told her sister all those years ago, she and he were made from the same clump of earth: they were one, and always would be, forever and forever.

The note wedged under their secret rock had read "MEET ME AT THE SWINGS AFTER BREAKFAST! -L." With quiet excitement Severus put on his stoutest coat and ventured out into the snowy winter morning, trotting to the playground as fast as his legs could carry him. As cold as it was, there would be no one else there except them, and sure enough, the only thing he could see to interrupt the drifts of white was the bright red hair, topped by an absurd pink knitted cap that was no doubt made by her mum.

"Severus!" she shouted, waving her pink mittened hand frantically when she spotted him. Her voice echoed sharply in the cold thin air, and seemed to echo in his bones too.

"I got your note," Severus said unnecessarily as he took the swing next to hers, trying not to stare too much at the way her eyes glittered with a gladness to match his own.

"Oh Severus isn't it pretty?" she asked, looking around the white playground. "I love winter, don't you?"

"It's just snow," he shrugged, but in a way he understood. There was a certain crystalline joy in the day that even his young boy's heart could not fail to notice.

She pouted at his indifferent tone, but after a moment smiled again, said "Oh well, you're just a boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tuney says boys are thick about beauty and things, until they hit-until they get older."

"Tuney is thick herself!"

"Severus, that's not nice."

Afraid their day would devolve into another stupid argument about her sister, he hastily apologized, then said brightly "Hey, I know! Let's fly!" Ever since he'd first seen her sail off the swings like a bird, he knew that "flying" was her favorite thing, and generally she was more than happy to do so. But this time she shook her head, said "No, wait, we have to do something first."

"What?"

With a small nervous giggle, she reached into the pocket of her coat, and pulled something out, handed it to him.

"I know they're nothing grand," she said somewhat apologetically, "but I asked Mummy to knit your favorite color, and I charmed them so that they stay warm always."

He slipped the green mittens onto his frozen hands, and sure enough, they were warm as toast inside.

"Lily, this is really advanced magic," he said in awe. "You're going to be the best witch at Hogwarts, I just know it!"

"So you like them then?" Lily asked.

"They're brilliant."

"Oh, good. Happy birthday, Severus!"

He glanced up swiftly, stared at her for a moment unable to speak.

"You did say it was today, didn't you?" she asked apprehensively. He nodded his head violently up and down. She sighed with relief. "Okay, that's good," she giggled. "I'd feel like a dunderhead if I'd gotten the day wrong."

"Th-thank you," he managed to stutter at last. He couldn't believe she'd remembered.

"So, how does it feel to be ten?" she asked now, rocking slightly back and forth on her swing.

"You'll find out in a couple weeks," he replied smugly. One doesn't turn ten every day.

"But think, Severus, only one more year, and we get our letters from Hogwarts!" she said excitedly. Then her face fell a little as she said "Are you sure I'll get one too?"

"Positive. I've told you dozens of times. And you've got loads of magic, you're sure to get in."

"So if Muggles with magic can get in, what about wizarding folk who don't have magic?"

"Those are called squibs, and no, they don't get in."

"Only people with magic, no matter who they are?"

"That's right."

"I'll be so glad when we get to go at last," she said after a moment, kicking the snow with the toe of her wellies. "It'll be ever so much better than regular school, don't you think?"

Severus agreed firmly. Nothing was worse than Muggles. Nothing.

"Won't you miss your friends though?" Severus reluctantly asked. He knew that, unlike him, she had loads of friends at school.

But she shrugged, said "I don't know. They're nice, Sev, but they're not like us."

"'Sev'?" he repeated with surprise.

"Oh, sorry. But that's what I call you in my head," she smiled. "I won't say it if you don't like it though."

"No, I like it," he assured her. More than liked it. But then he thought about what she'd said, asked "What do you mean they're not like us? You mean because they don't have magic?"

"Partly," she said. "But also...It's hard to explain. We're just different, that's all. Special."

"Special?" he smirked.

"Yes! And...And they're not like you, Sev."

"What does that mean?" he asked faintly.

"Well." She stared down at the ground. Her hair fell forward so that all he could see was the tip of her cold-reddened nose. "They're all children, but you...You're brilliant, Sev. You know everything. And you've got loads of magic yourself. Sometimes I wonder you don't think I'm just a silly girl."

"Lily, you're the best friend I've ever had," he said quietly. The only friend I've ever had.

"You too, Sev," she said, holding out her hand. The pink mitten found the green, and they swung on their swings in silence until Petunia showed up sometime later and called Lily home to lunch.