Snape rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. Damn Gryffindors trying to save the world. Of course, if it was his child, he’d likely do the same, but they were pulling at straws here. He’d read through Granger’s book and didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in Hades that this would work. It might buy the child some time, but he didn’t think it could cure her. After all, the body was more than the blood that coursed through it, magical or not. And magical DNA was in every single tissue, every single cell, and the signaling mechanisms in the body were more complex than any witch or wizard or Muggle understood.

It was nearing 2am as he sipped his brandy, debating if there was any other way. Granger’s reports had been painstakingly thorough, as had her review of the medical, potions making, and spellbinding literature, but no child on record with this condition had survived. Granted this particular method had not yet been tried, but to his trained mind, the treatment proposed seemed too simple, too incomplete. Yet it seemed safe enough. He would go along with it in hopes of buying himself more time to find a cure. Granger had offered to work with him, and while he wasn’t all that enthused about spending time with her, he would do it if it meant saving the little girl’s life.

Mr. Potter,

I have reviewed Ms. Granger’s research and agree to help with what you have proposed. However, I must once again caution that I am not a healer. While I am able to brew the potions you require, I can not guarantee that any of this will work. In the meantime, I will search for any alternatives that Ms. Granger may have overlooked.

S. Snape

Although Potter had offered, the first time that Snape met young Lily was when he brought the finished blood replication potion to the home of the Potters’. Two boys greeted him as he emerged from their fireplace. The older one looked like a miniature Fred Weasley, while the younger one looked more like Harry with one exception: he had Snape’s long, narrow nose. That disconcerting realization almost had him dropping the potion he held protectively in his hands.

“Professor,” Harry said, drawing him into the room. “Meet James and Albus.”

James took a bow while Albus nodded shyly.

“Lily’s in here,” Harry added, pointing towards a room off the living room.

Snape followed Potter into what looked like a nursery. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, as were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Ginny sat in the corner rocking a bundle of blankets.

Snape nodded to all present, passing over the niceties, and headed towards the nurse. As he dubiously studied the obviously Muggle equipment she was organizing, she said, “You must be Professor Snape. I’m Clara. Ginny has told me a lot about you.”

Snape merely raised an eyebrow before motioning towards the equipment. “And that is for…”

“We will need to replace her blood. This equipment will help catch it.” The nurse shuffled around the table. “You have the blood replication potion?”

“Of course,” Snape nodded.

“Then we can begin whenever you are all ready,” the nurse said, taking the potion from Snape and arranging it, along with the other equipment, neatly on the surgical table.

Snape watched as Harry bent over Ginny and kissed her lightly atop the head, whispering “It’ll be okay,” before picking up the bundle in her arms. Ginny nodded, tears in her eyes.

Snape had a bad feeling as Harry walked back towards him, not meeting his gaze.

“Here, can you hold her for me a second?” Harry said, thrusting the child into his arms.

Instinctively, Snape reached for the bundle.

“Meet your granddaughter,” Potter said, a smile on that damn Gryffindor’s face.

“Watch that scowl, Professor,” Ron said, “you’ll scare her.”

Snape schooled his features into something more neutral before studying the too light and too small child in his arms. His muscles tightened and he held her more securely as she yawned and stretched. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him. With a shock, followed closely by a pang of longing, he saw Lily Evans looking back at him. He looked to Harry, then Ginny, trying to find their features in this tiny child, but all he could see was Harry’s mother.

“Hiya,” she said, looking up at him with innocent green eyes.

His throat closed. She was beautiful, angelic, innocent. “Take her,” he growled, shoving her back into Harry’s arms. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me,” he said, stalking out of the nursery. He heard Ron Weasley’s laughter follow him out of the room.

Two hours later, the process was complete. Lily was still in a magically-induced state of stasis, and would remain that way for several more hours, but she was stable and her body seemed to be responding well to the blood transfusion as well as the potions. Snape left with instructions to fetch him if there was any change or if he was needed.

Back in his own house, he paced restlessly. He’d done all that he could, but he couldn’t get Lily’s face out of his mind, either one of them: the woman he’d loved, or the baby that was made in her image. “I didn’t want this,” he snarled, “any of this. I didn’t ask for this.”

Snape was waiting when Potter stepped out of his fireplace the next day at noon. Harry had owled that he’d be stopping by with an update.

“She’s doing well,” Harry reported. “She’s regained some color and the healers have said her immune function is normal. We’ll have to see if her body can maintain it, but she looks better than she has in months.”

Snape nodded, unable to speak.

“Thank you again, for all that you’ve done. Ginny and I, we appreciate it.”

“Please keep me appraised of her progress,” Snape said.

After Potter left, he felt even more agitated than before. Potter seemed both happy and hopeful. But Snape had a sinking feeling in his gut that the girl was not out of the woods yet. How long until it all came crashing down? Perhaps he was just being a pessimist. He’d seen so much evil and strife in his life, perhaps he’d just forgotten how to hope.

“Her cell counts are dropping,” Potter reported as he sat, desolate, in a chair in Snape’s sitting room. Six months had passed since Lily’s last transfusion.

“Well,” Snape said, scratching his chin, “this is not a surprise. Her body did not create those blood cells, so naturally they can’t regenerate them. And with the suppressing agent we’ve added to her blood, she can’t generate her own cells, which are believed to be toxic to her.”

“That’s what Hermione said,” Potter agreed. “She wanted to know what your thoughts are on increasing the dose of the modified blood replenishing potion.”

“That’s one option,” Snape conceded. “But I’ve had another thought as well. I’d prefer to use a potion I’ve been working on to see if we can’t get her body to perceive the blood we’ve transfused as her own and have her body replicate it.”

“Can we do that?” Harry asked.

“We can try, but it’s not risk free.” Snape said as he paced, thoughts racing through his head. “In order to try it, we’d have to remove the cell reproduction suppressing agent.”

“Doesn’t that mean she could start producing her own cells again, which we don’t want?”

“It may,” Snape said, “but it may not. The hope is that her body will have adapted to the new cells and reproduce those instead. But there’s no guarantee.”

“Worst case scenario, we repeat the process and start over, and we are back to where we are now.” Buying time, Snape thought. We are just buying time.

Four Months Later…

“It’s not working, she’s getting worse,” Hermione said

“We have to try again,” Ginny pleaded.

Hermione had tears in her eyes. “Ginny, I don’t think it’s safe.”

“We can try something else then. We can try Professor Snape’s cell suppressant potion.”

“We can’t suppress her cells any further.”

“There has to be something else we can do,” Ginny lamented.

Harry sunk further into himself, cradling Lily to his chest. He couldn’t do this anymore.

He looked up to see Snape standing solemnly in the corner, his expression unreadable.

“Professor Snape,” Ginny begged, “what if we…”

Harry lost track of what Ginny was saying as he looked into Lily’s eyes. He wanted to believe she’d recover. Wanted it with every fiber of his being. He heard Snape’s voice, harsh yet soothing, trying to dissuade his distraught wife. The words slipped away before he could comprehend them.

“Professor,” Harry finally said, quietly, but silence fell as everyone looked toward Harry. “Is there anything, anything at all, that we can try to save her?”

Snape’s pained expression and interminable silence had Harry dropping his head into his hands in despair while Ginny’s sobs echoed around the room.