Author's Note: It's finally here. I'm so sorry for the wait.

"Remus Lupin, to what do I owe this displeasure?" Snape drawled inquisitively as he leaned against the doorway, feeling slightly run-down. He had thought that this potion would have begun to ease up by now. With a blasé air, his eyes wandered down to the present in Lupin's hands, scowling at the large bow resting at the center of the box.

Lupin's eyes seemed to struggle to stay nonchalant and polite, mustering up the strength to keep up a friendly façade. "Good morning to you as well, Severus. I've come to deliver my birthday wishes to Harry, naturally."

"Yes, naturally," Snape replied, malcontent as usual. He swung the door open and swept over the foyer, refusing to invite Lupin inside verbally. He wouldn't leave him outside, but he also wouldn't want to give the man the impression that he had even the slightest desire to stand in his presence.

"So," Lupin began carefully, scrutinizing the familiar headquarters with a thoughtful expression. "Where is the dear, birthday boy?"

Snape grimaced, retrieving his abandoned Daily Prophet before settling in the nearest armchair in the sitting room once again. "No idea; probably fawning over his new make-over in his bedroom."

Lupin set down the gift on the coffee table and absently rubbed his shoulder. "Make-over?"

"Ah, yes. You see, his flawless stupidity rewarded him with a simply lovely complexion."

Lupin worriedly casted his eyes toward the staircase. "Is he alright?"

"Unfortunately…" Snape brooded, pretending to be completely absorbed in a particularly lengthy article. "It's quite a pity, really."

"I'd better check on him," Lupin murmured mostly to himself, retreating to the upper level of the house. He all but ran up each step, anxious as to whether or not Snape had intentionally injured Harry in any way. Dumbledore may have placed his sole trust in the man, but that didn't mean that he had to.

"Remus?" Harry peeked his head out of his room, dark hair and green eyes greeting Lupin with gusto. He half-heartedly rubbed a hand over his itchy face, but tried to refrain from causing too much friction against his skin lest it would make the rash worse. Besides, he didn't want to endure another round of Snape's unorthodox healing methods for a second time in the course of the same day.

"Harry! What in the world happened to you?" Lupin ogled the red blotches of skin in incredulity. "Two weeks with Severus and your face is covered in—Well, I'm not quite sure what that is… Is it some form of acne?"

Harry felt his cheeks burn but doubted that it was noticeable. "Erm… No, actually, this isn't Snape's fault, believe it or not. I wish Snape had done this. That way, I wouldn't have to feel so ridiculous about it all. It was one of Fred and George's ploys."

Lupin let out a slightly relieved sigh. "I see. Well, you should be more careful in the future. Regardless, that shouldn't stop you from celebrating your birthday! Dumbledore wanted to personally visit and send his best wishes, but as you can imagine, he's been extremely busy as of late. However, I'm sure that he'll be sending over a present shortly. There is one present already waiting to be opened downstairs."

Harry tried his best to grin brightly, hoping he was convincing enough. Personally, his birthday had already been an unforeseeable disaster. "Thank you, Remus."

"Of course! Turning sixteen is quite the milestone, isn't it? I remember when your mother turned sixteen. My, was she a shining beauty; James could barely take his eyes off of her, especially when Severus stopped trailing after her," Lupin recalled with pleasant nostalgia as he and Harry made their way for the stairs.

Harry suddenly froze in place, hand glued to the banister. He knew that Lily had come to Snape's defense after seeing his memory last term, but he had though that it had just been some awkward coincidence. He'd always viewed his mother as a kind-hearted woman, and after seeing someone being bullied, obviously she stepped in to the rescue. Yet, he'd never considered that the two of them were well-acquainted. With a shaky breath he asked, "Wait, Snape knew my mother?"

"Yes, indeed. Those two spoke quite often. It always befuddled James, who could never fathom their friendship. It's safe to say that he was jealous of any other student who spent time with your mother," Lupin explained calmly, clearly not seeing the absurdity encased in his words.

They reached the sitting room just then, walking in on Snape who was now scouring bookcases again. His mind always seemed to be lost in a book.

Not paying him any mind for the moment, Harry took hold of the colorful box on the table, haphazardly ripping off the shiny wrapping in curiosity. Pulling away the paper, he let it fall aside as he lifted the sleek, black suit pants and matching blazer. A pristine white shirt paired with a fancy scarlet tie was included in the package as well.

"Do you like it? I know it isn't much but—"

"It's fantastic, thank you. Though, it looks a bit expensive…"

"Oh, don't you worry about that!" Lupin assured, patting Harry's shoulder. "Being sixteen, I'm sure you'll want to attend each ball that Hogwarts has to offer. You'll manage to find yourself a wonderful young lady if you dress smart. James always outdid himself on his dates…"

Snape rolled his eyes, peevishly flicking through the pages of a leather-bound book that he'd found.

Remembering the previous discussion, Harry's stomach seemed to do a somersault and constrict painfully, making him feel extremely sick. He didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling so tense and frustrated. His eyes went from Lupin to Snape for a few times before he dared to speak again.

"I… I'm sorry, Remus. I forgot to tell you that I didn't feel well this morning either. I think I've caught a bug or something, so I'm not up for any festivities," Harry lied coolly, his heart clobbering beneath his ribs. "Maybe we can save the celebration for another day?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Harry," Lupin responded soothingly, brushing a hand over Harry's head to check for a fever. "You might be a tad on the warm side. Perhaps I should stay and help?"

"No, no, I'm fine, really. I'm sure I can just sleep it off. Thank you for the gift once more."

"There's no need to thank me," Lupin assured, patting Harry's shoulder and embracing him for a short moment before preparing to depart. He casted a cautious, side-glance toward Snape, skeptical of the man's intentions. "I'll leave you to rest. If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me, alright? Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry nodded and saw Lupin on his way out, shutting the door behind him after waving goodbye. When he was sure Lupin was gone and wasn't coming back anytime soon, he advanced back over to Snape and tore the book that he was holding out of the man's hands in uncontainable fury.

"You were friends with my mum?" he bristled, trying to cease from shouting and losing his temper, seeing as that wasn't going to make any progress in addressing the issue.

Snape was about to scold Harry for being so rude, but stopped himself and resolved on merely looking stern. "Lupin told you that?"

"Maybe he did; what does it matter? What does matter is that you were friends with my mum and then turned against her! You worked on the side of Voldemort! You really are the reason she's dead! How could you do that to a friend?"

"Do not say the Dark Lord's name, and you should not be sticking your nose in places where it doesn't belong. None of this is your concern," Snape backfired firmly, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this mess. Potter had gone too deep. He knew that he was getting too close to the boy; it was bound to spell trouble in the long-run. He shouldn't have listened to Dumbledore. The old man had made a huge mistake this time.

"Not my concern! This is my mum we're talking about and she's dead! She's dead just like Dad and Sirius because of people like you!" Harry emphasized, chiding himself for not having his wand on hand. He didn't care if using magic outside of school was forbidden; Snape was going to pay for betraying his mother.

"You don't underst—"

"Don't tell me that I don't understand! I completely understand! I understand that you're a bastardly git who caused my mother's death and never bothered to even mention it. Instead, you made my life a living hell at school!" Harry griped, taking the book and throwing it squarely at Snape's face.

The man caught the hurtling object, stunned by the show of violence. Harry wasn't normally one to want to cause physical harm onto others. He had always wanted to paint the boy as some demon child who had come to haunt him for his past mistakes, but his good heart was undeniable at times, even though it was a painful revelation that had rendered in Snape's mind over the years.

Casting all hatred aside, Snape tossed the book aside and gripped Harry's wrists holding him still for a moment.

"You need to calm yourself. Control your emotions," he urged the teen, shaking him slightly in his own frustration. "Throwing a tantrum now isn't going to solve anything, I assure you."

Harry continued his unabated rage, thrashing out of Snape's grip and falling to his knees with a moan of both grief and protest. All of the dark emotions he had repressed seemed to come leaking out of him at once, awakening the sleeping beast that had resided at the bottom of his soul.

Snape wordlessly watched the boy sob and groan through hitching breaths, remembering a time when he too had felt so hopelessly lost and confused, sitting on the cold, wooden floors of his house as he anguished over the cruelty of unrequited love. He'd been a flimsy teen when he had brushed off his pants and gathered his bravery around him to climb up the side of the tree that was outside of Lily's house. He could still remember the fronts of his too-large shoes biting into the knots on the tree bark as he traversed his way through the leaves and branches. By the time he'd made it up high enough, he was panting.

He'd leaned over one of the bulky branches and knocked on the young girl's window, demanding her attention.

There'd been many occasions when he had tried to win back her friendship and trust, but that summer night in the oak tree had been the closest he'd ever come to success. Lily had trotted over to her window, oblivious to the identity of the intruder until she had come face to face with him. At first, she'd simply closed the curtains, obscuring him from her field of view.

"Wait! Please, hear me out just for a minute!"

Not wanting to wake her parents in the middle of the night, or worse her sister, Petunia, Lily reluctantly pulled the curtains apart again. She cracked the window open in an exasperated manner, almond eyes as beautiful as ever.

"I don't want to hear another one of your empty apologies."

Biting his lip, he cleared his throat and prepared to speak, but never got the chance.

"Didn't you just hear what I said? Leave before you wake my parents!"

With that, Lily moved to close the window again, but Snape, being ludicrously foolhardy, stuck his hand under the screen of the window, getting his fingers smashed in the process.

Lily's eyes had widened, clearly bewildered as she hastily opened the window again, only to witness Snape yelping over the broken fingers and losing his footing in the tree. He had skidded his way off of the branch that he'd been resting his weight on, trying to save himself by flailing a hand around to grab onto something.

"Severus!"

He almost smiled at hearing Lily pronounce his name again, trying to ignore the immense pain that ran down his spine as his back collided with the grassy ground. His vision blurred as Lily came running out of the house and over to his side, grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him lightly.

"Severus, say something!"

Snape had merely groaned, pain flitting throughout his entire figure. He watched listlessly as Lily leaned closer to his face, trying to decipher whether he was coherent or not.

With a deep frown, Lily squeezed her eyes shut and shed a tear, red-hair blazing in the moonlight. She took Snape's hand in her own and embraced it for a minute before speaking.

"I'm sorry too, Sev. I ought to have treated you more kindly, but we can't be friends anymore. It'll give both of us a hard time. It's best if you just stay away."

Snape swallowed heavily, pushing himself up into a sitting position. In a flurry of movement, he was entangled in Lily's arms and taking part in a tight hug. He was rather surprised that he hadn't seized in her arms out of sheer bewilderment. When she pulled away, she prepared herself to wake her parents and call for help when Snape stopped her.

"It's alright. I'll be fine."

"Don't be ridiculous! You need to go to the hospital to make sure you haven't broken any bones."

"I've been through worse. It's fine, Lily."

"Promise you'll be okay?"

Snape nodded fervently, berating himself for allowing his eyes to sting with heavy emotion. He was still a terrible liar at the time. After being helped into a standing position and at least being offered some ice for his hand, the pair of teenagers met each other's eyes once more before going their separate ways.

That had been his last attempt at reconciliation.

"Snape?" Harry queried, shaking Snape out of his memories. He had calmed down considerably, though his eyes were still red and accusing.

Snape straightened himself up, eyes stowing all emotion, just as he had trained himself to do. "Yes, what is it that you want to say, Potter?"

Harry clenched his fist, eyes meeting the floor. "Tell me what happened. I want to know what went on with you and my mum."

"There isn't much to say," Snape lied apathetically. In reality, keeping the story locked within him had been killing him for years. He'd just been waiting for someone to make that precise request of him, but he hadn't wanted nor expected it to be Harry himself. "Your mother and I were fellow classmates. That was all. We grew up and lost touch…"

Harry didn't seem to be buying the tale, but he nodded anyway before retreating to his room and slamming the door shut.

For a split second, Snape wondered if he should go up there and say more, but as quick as the temptation had come, it fluttered away. He breathed a sigh.

He was going to need a lot of tea to wash down this mess.

He needed something—anything to help him get his mind off of things for a while.

In his house, it was rather easy. He'd turn on the muggle television that he had stashed in his room (which he had acquired to provide himself with a sense of normalcy), and would change the channel to some dull documentary on the making of chocolate before washing some dishes by hand. He'd toy with some potions, work on his lesson plans for the beginning of the new term or simply read.

Reading was always the quickest and most painless distraction, but only if the book was of the right genre. He'd never pick up a work of fiction, but would opt for some very logical and mathematical explanation of why flax seeds had to be stored at a certain temperature.

These simple, thoughtless tasks kept him going, especially during the summer when he had so much time to himself.

But now, being at Grimmauld Place, there was literally nothing else for Snape to distract himself with. He'd shredded through every page of every book in the entire headquarters. And now, he couldn't conjure a television or start cleaning the entire house or Potter would think he was deranged.

Thus, he'd taken to wandering back and forth around the house, brewing cups of tea at every opportunity. Yet, he had to admit that after twelve cups of the hot beverage, even the thought of pouring himself another refill was making him ill.

So, he took to being alone with his thoughts after all, sulking in the melancholy of the house now that Potter had locked himself in his bedroom for the time being.

His eyes soon fell to the discarded wrappings of Lupin's present, which sent his train of thought spiraling toward the subject of Harry once more.

He hadn't gotten the boy a present for obvious reasons. Snape just wasn't the gift-giving type of person, and it's not like Harry expected anything from him anyway. He merely didn't bother, but now he was regretting that decision.

In all honesty, he wouldn't go as far as to say that he liked Potter, but he certainly had a newfound respect for him. Still, it was very foreign to Snape when he felt his heart sink a millimeter when Harry's disappointed figure had disappeared after their one-sided argument. He didn't want the teenager to wish he were dead for the time that they had left together.

And maybe this predicament wouldn't have been so annoying had Snape not known exactly how to fix it.

He knew the one thing that he could do to win Harry's trust and respect, but he shouldn't even have considered the option of doing it. Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have cared if Harry wanted him dead, but now…

Well, now, the circumstances were very different.

It was now or never.

Snape wished he had chosen never.

He stood up on heavy limbs, completing the walk of shame from the kitchen to his bedroom before fishing through some cardboard boxes that he had stored underneath the bed. He retrieved a single item before kicking the box away in disgust, sweat piling on his forehead as he clenched the item in his hand. Heart speeding up and head pounding from processing a million thoughts at once, he staggered the length to Harry's room, knocking firmly on the locked door.

"Potter? Let me in."

"I'm a bit preoccupied…"

"Cheeky brat. Open this door and don't make me say it again! Or I'll… I'll," Snape suddenly wheezed, stunning himself for a moment as he used his free hand to grip the front of his shirt. "I-I'll blast it down with magic!"

Not receiving an answer or hearing any movement from within, Snape jiggled the doorknob, still holding onto the item for Harry in his other hand like a life-line as he did so.

Snape coughed roughly, cursing his lungs as he beat his fist on the door again. "Potter, you have to… Bloody hell…" He gasped for more air to continue, but found that his lungs were refusing to function properly.

Finally, Snape heard Harry stand up and fiddle with the lock, allowing him inside. He pushed the door open and met the boy's green eyes, heart aching horribly as they peered at him in scrutiny.

God, he just wanted her back.

"Yes, what is it?"

"P-Potter," Snape rasped, holding out his arm and presenting the item to Harry.

Eyebrows set in a furrow, Harry took the photograph out of Snape's hand, glimpsing at it quizzically before he felt his own breath catch in his throat.

It was his mother, laughing and smiling, and looking absolutely beautiful with the sun wrapped around her like a golden cloak.

The picture trembled in Harry's hand. "I d-don't understand…"

Snape could feel his senses fading as oxygen continued to fail to reach his lungs. The onslaught of illness had come so quickly and powerfully that he hadn't foreseen it.

He tried to hold on to consciousness, unsure of whether or not he'd be able to muster his courage again like this in the future. He wanted to tell Harry everything now. He wanted to explain what a horrible person he was, but also how guilt-stricken he was as well. He was grieving just as much as Harry, if not more, on some days.

He had loved with a love so pure, so strong, and so disgustingly greedy… He needed Lily. She was the only one for him. She had always been the only one for him. If he had only tried harder, begged further, found a way to make it up to her…

"Snape? Are you—What's wrong?"

Snape struggled to speak, airways strained as he lowered himself to the floor in exhaustion. "D-Don't put me next to L-Lockhart."

"Wh—Snape? Snape! Get up!"

Snape groaned. "Pot—Harry."

Harry jumped in his own skin, recoiling away from Snape in alarm. The man never addressed him by his first name.

"I'm going to call for help."

Snape gripped the front of Harry's shirt, shaking his head. "D-Don't have to…"

"What are you talking about? Of course I have to! Don't tell me you've gone mad from delirium again," Harry hastily exclaimed, leaving Snape's side momentarily to run to the fireplace.

The boy was supposed to hate him and let him asphyxiate to death, not call for help!

Damn, Gryffindor nobility.

"Don't move, you stubborn, old goat!" he heard Harry call from a short distance away.

Darkness swam into Snape's vision and then, his mind was at peace once more.