After about ten minutes of staring at the charmed ceiling with its floating jack-o-lanterns and fluttering illusionary bats while pushing about his nearly untouched plate of food, Harry had had enough of the Halloween feast.  He couldn't eat because of the knot in his stomach and couldn't enjoy the company of his Housemates and friends, who were all bug-eyed over the decorations and the festive atmosphere because his mind was full of memories.  Dreadful memories that he kept reliving every night when Halloween came around.  Memories of a red-haired woman screaming, then a green flash of light, and her lifeless body lying on the floor inches from his tiny hand.  And above them, hovering like a specter of the night, the black-cloaked form of her murderer, laughing mockingly as he pointed his wand at small Harry, who was still bawling for his mother. 

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Don't cry, little one." The cold voice hissed.  "Soon you shall join her, and know the embrace of eternal death together.  AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A green light had shot out from Voldemort's wand, striking the toddler in the forehead and he fell down and down into darkness, pain ripping through him . . .

"Harry! Hey, mate, where'd you go?" Ron asked, shaking his shoulder.  "You looked like you were a million kilometers away."

Harry blinked, feeling his scar throb.  More like a lifetime away. "I was just . . ." he began, trying to formulate an excuse in his head, for he never discussed those memories with anyone.  Suddenly he felt his stomach clench and he couldn't bear being among the students in the hall anymore, watching them carelessly celebrating the holiday, stuffing their faces with treats and laughing . . .laughing  when this was the night his mother had sacrificed herself for him . . .the night when Voldemort had cost him his life and the family that should have been his. 

He pushed back his chair.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione inquired, looking up from her Charms text.

"I . . .don't feel good," he said quickly, and wrapped his arms about his stomach.  "I'm going back to the tower to lie down."

He turned and hurried out of the hall.

"Too many sweets," Hermione said knowingly, frowning at Ron, who continued to stuff his face.  "How much did you eat before the feast?"

Ron shrugged.  He couldn't remember. "I dunno. Who cares? It's Halloween.  Live a little, Hermione!"

The doors to the Great Hall shut with a snap, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, inhaling the fresh cold air of the Entrance Hall.  It had grown unbearably stuffy in the hall, a fact which he only realized now.  Taking a few more deep breaths to clear his head, he turned and climbed the stairs, not to Gryffindor Tower, for he knew he would find no solace there, but instead he made his way to the library. 

He knew that most students avoided the library like the plague, unless forced to go there and do research for an assignment, or were known bookworms, like Hermione or the Ravenclaws.  But the library was Harry's oldest and best friend.  In primary school, he had gone there to hide among the stacks of books from Dudley and his gang, knowing they wouldn't dare set foot inside the library, where old Miss Dillon ruled with an iron fist.  There he could always count on losing himself for an hour or two in a book, and going far away from Surrey and his dreary miserable life.   Back in the day, books were his best friends.  Even now, they still were.  Unknown to Ron and the rest of the boys in his dorm, Harry still enjoyed a good book, and would often slip away before dinner or just after it to read in secret in one of the study nooks.  It was not something he wished to be known, lest he be made fun of the way the other kids did Hermione. 

He read all kinds of wizarding history books and a few basic potions texts as well.  He felt very inadequate when compared to most of the other students here, who knew all about the wizarding world, and he had never even known magic existed growing up with the Dursleys.  He didn't like being ignorant, back home he had been forced to play the dunce, and act like he was stupid so Dudley could out perform him in school, otherwise he'd be in trouble with his aunt and uncle, who thought Dudley was perfect and liked to brag about their "brilliant boy" and if anyone ever asked about Harry, he was their "dull delinquent nephew". 

Harry also didn't like how Snape had made him feel stupid that first day of class, and he was determined to prove the snarky professor wrong.  He wasn't a boy who lived on his fame, matter of fact he hated being famous, and despite the professor's caustic attitude, he admired the other man for his skill at potions.  Harry had always liked mixing solutions and playing with chemistry sets, he had rescued one that Dudley had gotten for a birthday present from the rubbish bin last year and spent hours hidden away in the toolshed concocting experiments.  When he had gotten his school books, he would have liked to spend the whole train ride reading the potions text, but the arrival of Ron and Hermione had nixed that idea.  He didn't want his new friends to think he was a nerd.

He also studied potions, in spite of pretending to Ron that he hated that class. He actually found it fascinating, and had been ashamed that he hadn't known the answers to the questions Snape had asked the first day of class.  He should have known them, Miss Dillon had warned him that when you went to secondary school, the teachers there would test you in the beginning of class to see if you'd read the books and were ready to learn their subjects.  He had failed Snape's quiz, though so had most of the class, save for perhaps Hermione.  Still, he knew it didn't matter how the rest of the class did, only how he did.  And he knew that now Snape thought of him as someone who just wanted to get by, just a typical student.  Harry found he didn't want that reputation, he wanted to succeed in mastering potions, and so he studied the texts he found in the library, though much of what he read was difficult to grasp and used terms he was unfamiliar with.  Still, he persevered, hoping to one day impress, or at least shock the pants off of, his strict professor.

But tonight he was not seeking knowledge, but solace from his terrible memories.  He knew that many people would be shocked that he recalled so vividly his mother's death. He had, after all, only been fifteen months old.  But that awful scene was emblazoned upon his brain, and he would never forget it as long as he lived.  Especially not tonight, the anniversary of her death.

So he headed into the library, his sanctuary, and crept into the back of the library, to his usual spot.  He pulled out the potions book he had hidden in the drawer of the desk, he had placed it there so he would not have to go and find it again when he came the next night.  So long as it was in the library, the magical catalogue wouldn't register it as being borrowed, and so Harry's secret was safe.  But he found that he couldn't study, he was too overwhelmed with pain and anguish, as well as feeling  resentful towards everyone, especially Dumbledore, for celebrating Halloween as if nothing had ever happened.  Did no one remember that this was the anniversary of Lily and James Potter's deaths? That he had become an orphan on this very night?

It appeared not. Even the staff had been celebrating.  The only one who cared was himself.

He shut his eyes as he heard the clock strike  nine, but that did not prevent the memory from coming and overwhelming him.  He shook, feeling icy cold and as he heard his mother's last cry echo through his head, he lowered his head and began to cry.

Severus Snape had always hated the Halloween feast.  To him there was no reason to celebrate after Lily was gone.  Once he had enjoyed Halloween, when he was a boy and had gone trick-or-treating with Lily. Once he had looked forward to dressing up and getting sweets and watching scary movies on his best friend's telly. No longer.  Since Lily's death, Halloween had become, for him, a day of mourning.  Actually, since her death, his whole life had become a day of mourning.  It was why he wore unrelieved black every day, though he knew most of the staff thought it was to save himself the bother of using Cleaning Charms on his clothing, or to better intimidate the insolent brats he taught. 

Ever since that night, when he had found her corpse lying still and unresponsive in the wreckage of the cottage at Godric's Hollow, Halloween had become intolerable to him.  He came to the feast to satisfy Dumbledore, who insisted he not shut himself away for the holiday, but he only stayed for an hour before departing.  He normally spent the rest of the night in his quarters, looking at the photo album he had kept of himself and Lily and getting maudlin while drinking a single glass of Firkin's Firewhiskey.  This Halloween, however, he had been thinking about the time he and Lily had been studying for midterms in fourth year, and she had spontaneously kissed him in the middle of a Charms incantation.   It was then that he had dared to allow himself to dream that someday they could be together, could fall in love, get married, become a family.   

Filled with a bitter nostalgia, he came to the library, the place where he and Lily had spent so many hours together, studying, joking around, simply being together, unafraid of censor from Marauder or Slytherin.  He paused among the rows of books, perusing them leisurely, his hands gliding along the spines reverently.  Here were many old friends, their pages bent and worn, but filled with invaluable knowledge or exciting stories that would transport him to another time and place, allowing him to forget how one ill-fated decision had cost him everything he had ever loved. 

He made his way to the table all the way in the back of the library, which was where he and Lily used to study.  It was quiet there in the shadows, and no one could sneak upon them unawares, it was where Lily had shared her hopes and dreams with him and later had kissed him breathless.  Regret and guilt tore his soul to ribbons.  Lily, forgive me.  It was my fault that you died, and I shall never be able to make amends.  Never.

His eyes prickled with unshed tears and he hastily swiped them away.  All he needed was a few minutes alone, a few minutes to allow himself to grieve, and then he would compose himself and return to the feast for a half-an-hour.  He hurried silently down the row and rounded a bookshelf, his black cloak billowing.

Only to come to a halt as he found someone else was in his favorite spot.  His eyes narrowed and he swore softly to himself.  Why was it that he could never find a moment of peace and quiet? Even on this night, he was doomed to run into Goddamned students.  And not just any student, but the bloody Boy-Who-Lived himself!

He opened his mouth to demand why Potter was not at the feast with his Gryffindor companions, enjoying the party.  But the words died on his tongue as he realized that the boy was huddled in the chair behind the desk, knees pulled into his chest, head in his hands, crying his heart out.  The slender shoulders shook beneath the black robe with the force of raw emotions, making Snape take an involuntary step back.

This was not the first time he had encountered a student weeping in the library, but those times it was usually a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff crying over a bad mark or an insensitive boyfriend.  He had usually tossed them a handkerchief and told them to pull themselves together, that salt water wasn't good for parchment.  A few of them had been so shocked by his dry wit that they had actually stopped crying.  But this . . .this grief was too deep for a witty comment to stem the tide.  Severus knew because he too had once wept this way . . .on the night he had found his beloved Lily still and cold on the nursery floor, beside the empty overturned crib. 

His foot struck the side of a bookshelf, making him stumble and collide with the endcap, knocking some books on charms to the floor with a loud thump.

Harry jerked up at the loud noise, glancing about fearfully, his face streaked with tears. 

His eyes met those of the Potions professor and he felt himself grow hot with embarrassment. Bloody hell, this was all he needed, to have Snape catch him crying like a primary school baby. 

"Professor Snape!" he blurted, wishing he could drop through a hole in the floor.  Could this night get any worse?

Harry met the professor's gaze through watery eyes, swallowing hard.  Snape's face was a blur and he couldn't tell if the teacher was shocked or angry at finding him where he didn't belong.  But there was no rule that said he had to attend the Halloween feast, was there? What was Snape doing here anyhow? How come he was here and not at the feast? Deciding to go on the offensive, and pretend he hadn't been caught by his teacher bawling his eyes out, Harry repeated, "Professor Snape! What are you doing in the library?"

Severus blinked.  The last thing he expected was for Potter to question him.  "I might ask you the same question, Potter.  What I am doing here is no business of yours.  What are you doing here, instead of celebrating with your little friends?"

"I . . .didn't feel much like celebrating." Harry admitted, figuring maybe if he told the tall professor something, Snape might leave him be. 

Severus' eyes bored into the small boy.  The young wizard reminded him painfully of Lily, with his green eyes and earnest gaze.  The last time he had seen those eyes had been on a corpse.  He suppressed an involuntary shudder.  No, he would not think of that. Not now.  Instead he focused upon her son, whom he was bound to protect, the son she had died to save.  Despite what some might assume, he did not resent the boy for that. He would have expected nothing  less from Lily, who had always protected what she loved best.  Once, he had been what she loved best.  Until he had foolishly followed a silver-tongued Lucius down a shadowy road, and lost her trust and her love forever.  What he did resent the Potter brat for was reminding him of his lost love, and reawakening memories he had fought hard to keep locked away.

"Why not? The feast wasn't to your liking?" he asked, the hint of a sneer in his voice. 

Harry shook his head.  "No. And it shouldn't be to anyone's liking!" he exploded, suddenly sick and tired of hiding his misery.  "Doesn't anyone remember what happened tonight?  This is the night they died! The bastard killed my parents . . .I saw her die . . .and I can't stop remembering it.  I can't stop . . .!" His breathing grew ragged and harsh and a sob escaped him despite his resolve not to cry.  "She died for me . . .because of me . . .and they all expect me to be grateful for it!  Grateful that I killed her!"

Severus was stunned.  He had never thought the boy would have remembered something like that, as young as he was.  But apparently he had, and worse blamed himself for her death.  But that guilt was not his burden to carry.  It was Severus'.  "No, Potter. You did not kill her." He began emphatically.

"I did! And everyone knows it! It's all anyone ever talks about.  It's what I'm famous for!" Harry cried, swiping at his eyes.

Snape thrust a large embroidered handkerchief at the boy. "Quit sniveling all over the parchment, Potter. Salt doesn't mix well with it."

Harry took the handkerchief and stared at it as if he'd never seen one before.  "What?" Then he flushed. "I-I mean . . .right." Had Snape just made a joke? Surely not. He blotted his eyes then, but a defiant tear made its way down his face.

"Look at me," the professor ordered, his voice soft.  He had to force himself to meet that tortured green gaze, which mirrored the one he saw in the looking glass around this time of the year.  "You did not kill your mother.  It was not your fault that the Dark Lord came hunting you.  Your family was betrayed by their Secret Keeper.  And by one who . . .inadvertently brought news of a prophecy he overheard . . .Your mother would never have stood by and allowed any harm to come to her child.  That was not Lily's way.  She . . .chose her own death, dying out of love, like many a mother has done before her.  She would not want you to feel guilty."

"How would you know?" Harry demanded.  "Were you there when she died, to ask her why?"

"I did not need to be." The professor said sharply.  "Mind your tone, before I take points."

Harry shrugged. "Like you need a reason."

Severus' eyes flashed.  "Since you are not . . .yourself . . .Potter, I shall overlook your cheek.  This time only.  Out of respect for the dead.  Pull an attitude with me again and you shall be scrubbing my entire dungeon with a toothbrush before you can say Quidditch. For your information, your mother and I knew each other well.  She was my classmate and my neighbor and my . . .friend."

Harry was flabbergasted.  Snape and his mother had been friends? And neighbors?  Why had no one ever told him that?  Everyone always talked about James, but the only thing they had ever mentioned about Lily was that Harry had her eyes.  At the same time he was also angry because so much had been kept from him, first by the Dursleys and now by the Hogwarts staff as well.  All of them had known his parents, they had attended school here, and yet none of the teachers had ever volunteered to tell Harry about them.  Well, McGonagall had volunteered a few things about James, how he was a Chaser and there had been a few more bits in Famous Witches and Wizards of the 20th Century, but nothing that really told Harry about the kind of person his mother had been.  The only memory he had of Lily was one where she fell lifeless to the floor in front of him.  That awful, dreadful memory, which never failed to tear his insides to shreds.   All this time, Snape had known his mother, and not once had the professor ever offered to share his memories with her son.

The omission made him furious.

"Must be nice, sir-" he sneered the word, so Snape would know he was not using it as term of respect. "-to have such wonderful memories of your friend, especially on this night.  I guess that's why you were celebrating along with everyone else, right? Ron told me everyone throws big parties on Halloween in the wizarding world, because Voldemort was defeated that night.  He said that it was one of the greatest things to happen in the twentieth century.  And it happened because of me.  But everyone forgets that people died before I . . .did whatever I did to him.  My father and mother died that night, so why the hell would I want to celebrate Halloween?" He was on his feet now, his hands clenched, eyes burning with unshed tears.  "Why should I give a damn about sweets and a bloody feast when my mother is dead? You're supposed to be a brilliant wizard, sir.  Tell me why nobody cares! Why?"

Snape's face had gone pale as cream, with only his eyes providing a contrast-they glittered darkly against his face.  And in those eyes were anger, bitterness, and pain.  "Why, Potter? You ask me the question that I have wondered for years.  How is it that some can celebrate a victory without tallying the cost?  How can they revel in the defeat of an enemy and yet forget the sacrifice necessary to get there in the first place? I do not know.  Nor do I care.  It matters not." His voice lowered to a rasp.  One finger lifted and stabbed at the boy like a dagger.  "But do not ever suggest that I celebrate the eve of her death! That I could ever forget what occurred this night . . .the night when she passed from this world forever . . .I saw her at the last . . .closed her sightless eyes . . .her eyes . . .once so full of life . . .of passion . . . you cannot know . . .how dare you compare me with those imbeciles, boy?"

Harry backed up, for the light in Snape's eyes was terrible to see, it seared him to the bone.  Here was a man whose pain eclipsed his own, he realized.  He could see it in every line of the other's face, in the tautness of the professor's body,  but especially the eyes . . .oubliettes of endless grief.  Here was someone who had not forgotten the cost of Voldemort's defeat, who still honored the memory of Lily Evans Potter.  Who would have thought the intimidating sarcastic Potions Master had such a wealth of grief hidden away behind that grim exterior?  With a flash of insight he understood why Snape had come here tonight.  It was for the same reason as Harry.

He had come to mourn the one he had lost.

With that, Harry bridged the chasm of misunderstanding between himself and the professor and stood upon common ground, the bitter sting of loss and grief drawing him towards the older wizard.  He felt a terrible ache in his soul whenever he thought of his mother, of what might have been.  How much worse was it for Snape, who had known Lily for much longer?  He did not know what to say to ease the terrible sorrow, he knew in his heart that there was nothing that he could say, except perhaps . . . "I understand."

Snape's mouth twisted, he longed to blast the boy with his rapier wit, skewer the arrogant brat's pretensions with his sharp tongue.  How could Potter know what he was feeling? How empty his life was without her? But something held him mute.  Perhaps it was the look in the younger wizard's eyes, a look of comprehension and understanding that he had never seen upon anyone's face until now.  His loss is mine also.  "Perhaps, Potter. Perhaps."

Suddenly it was too much.  He could not stand to look at her son any longer.  It had been so much easier when all he had seen was James Potter, his rival, his hated enemy.  Now all he saw was her eyes, staring back at him from a face he both resented and pitied.  Eyes that accused and reminded, condemned and pardoned.  Grief knows no boundaries, not of class, race, or age. He could not recall now where he had read that, only that it perfectly summed up this situation.

He made himself look away, down at the book lying upon the table in front of Harry.  "Studying potions, Potter? Or is that a ruse to make me think you actually like my class?"

"I do like your class, professor." Harry answered honestly. "Potions have always interested me.  You'd know that if you-" he halted, for he did not want to antagonize the teacher.

"If I what?" Snape demanded.

"Nothing."

"No, Potter, tell me."

"Fine, but just remember, you asked, sir." Harry said shortly.  "You'd know that if you would quit sneering and looking for reasons to take points from me over stupid things.  If you gave me a chance, you'd see that I want to do well in potions.  Dumbledore said that my mum liked potions . . .well, so do I."

"Lily was brilliant at potions.  And Charms." Severus told him. The boy had some nerve! But if he was being brutally honest with himself, Snape knew that Potter was right.  Perhaps he ought to give the boy a chance. Maybe there was more of Lily in him than James.

A tiny smile appeared on Harry's face. "Really? Then I guess . . .I'm like her . . .a little."

Severus snorted softly.  The boy's honesty scalded, but he couldn't punish the brat, seeing as he had insisted upon hearing the truth.  Don't ask, Sev, unless you want to know the answer, Lily's voice whispered in his ear.  She had never lied to him, that he could recall.  He flicked a quick glance at Harry, just catching a glimpse of a wistful look in those expressive eyes.  It touched something within him, enough so he swallowed the sarcastic retort that sprang to his lips.  He supposed he could be honest in return.  "In some ways, Potter, you remind me of her very much . . ."

Harry's eyes lit up, but before he could respond there came a tremendous bang from somewhere in the castle.  The library trembled and Harry was knocked into the table, striking his hip on the edge of the desk.  He yelled at the sudden sharp pain.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders, steadying him as tremors shook the castle.  "Potter, are you hurt?"

"I  . . .not so bad . . .I just hit my hip into the table . . ." He sucked in a breath as long fingers probed deftly at the tender area.

"Bruised, most likely. I doubt you hit it hard enough to cause a fracture," said the Potions Master matter-of-factly.  "You'll be sore tomorrow, but you'll live."

"What's happening?" Harry asked, starting to become frightened. "What was that noise?"

"I don't know, but I shall find out. Stay here, boy, right here, and do not move an inch. Understand?" Severus ordered sternly.

"But-"

"Do as I say for once, Potter!" snapped the older wizard.  He pushed the boy into the chair and then spun on his heel and strode rapidly towards the library entrance. 

Something had invaded the castle, and his instincts told him it was deadly and dangerous.  He snapped his wrist out sharply and his wand fell into his hand, quick-released from his arm sheath.  He just hoped that the Headmaster and the rest of his colleagues had gotten the children to safety.  Another loud BOOM echoed down the corridor as Snape hurried down the stairs and right into a mass of screaming hysterical students and prefects struggling to bring the children under control.   

He sought out Slytherin green among the mass of blue, red, and gold trim and grabbed Flint's arm.  "Flint, what in bloody blazes is going on?"

His Captain looked up at him and cried, "A troll's invaded the castle, Professor Snape! Quirrell said it was in the dungeon, but I think the berk was mistaken, because I just saw it go that way!" The tall boy pointed towards the small service stair leading to the second floor, which appeared at random throughout the castle.  "The stairs appeared and the damn troll jumped on them and now it's up there, sir!"

"Where are the other teachers?" Snape demanded over the sobs and shrieks.

"Down in the dungeons, sir! What do we do?" Flint asked, looking scared.

"You take the Slytherins down to the common room, Flint.  Hufflepuffs, go to your common room!" he shouted. They would be safe down next to the kitchen. "Everyone else needs to go back to the hall. Do you hear? Go back to the hall!" Severus said decisively.  It was too dangerous for the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students to go up the stairs to their dormitories with the troll rampaging.

He helped the prefects with the panicked students, chivvying them into obedience with his glare and soon they had all done as he had said.  He was just about to cast a Reinforcement Charm upon the doors to the hall when he heard Granger's voice crying, "Ron, where's Harry? He doesn't know about the troll!"

"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron said easily.  "Harry's safe in Gryffindor Tower."

Severus froze.  No, he isn't, Weasley.  He's trapped in the damn library! Right in the path of a vicious mountain troll. He sprinted from the hall, shutting the doors and casting the Reinforcement Charm before he dashed up the staircase. 

He prayed he would be in time, and not have to relive another awful moment, standing over the body of yet another green-eyed casualty of war.

Harry rubbed his hip and thought about poking his head out into the corridor to see what was going on.  He was both frightened and curious by the loud thumps and thuds coming from the hallway.  He wondered if it were some kind of prank played by Peeves the Poltergeist, or maybe one of the older students.  Fred and George Weasley were fond of pranks, perhaps this was nothing but a lot of noise, and there really was nothing to fear.  But Snape hadn't acted as if he thought it were a joke.  He had behaved as if the situation were dire.  Harry was unsure if he should trust Snape, but then he recalled that Lily had done so.  He settled back in his chair, clutching the potions book to him.  If it were a prank, the professor would find out about it and take points and give detention.  If not . . .Harry had to hope that whatever was causing that awful noise would be dealt with quickly, preferably before he lost his hearing.  He really did not want to meet the maker of those loud thuds.  It reminded him of the time Dudley had chucked his television down the stairs because he didn't like any of the shows that were on. The telly had made a terrible racket all the way down, and then smashed to bits at the bottom.  Of course, Dudley blamed Harry for losing his temper, and Harry had gone to bed with no supper and a list of chores as long as his arm to complete the next day.

Dust fell from the ceiling as the thunderous noise grew louder.  The books on the top of the shelves were shaking and some began to fall to the floor.  They hit the carpet with muffled thuds, like a scattering of raindrops on a tin roof. The bookshelves quivered violently as Something approached the library.  Harry was terrified, he could now make out the sound as footsteps, footsteps that sounded like thunder, and he thought frantically about hiding beneath the desk, for surely a giant was coming.  Maybe if I stay really still, the giant won't notice me. He tried to pretend he was part of the furniture.

Suddenly, a huge gray-skinned shape appeared in the doorway of the library.  It was nearly too big to fit through the door, but that little complication didn't bother the troll.  It simply lifted its spiked club and smashed a hole in the doorway.  Chunks of wood and plaster flew everywhere. 

Harry remained huddled in the chair.  He had never seen a greater mountain troll before, but he had read of them in a book called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. He recalled the troll from the illustration in the book.  He also recalled the book saying that trolls were massively strong but rather stupid, with a brain the size of a large walnut.  Harry decided the safest thing to do was to play dead, like possums did over in America.  He went limp and tried very hard not to breathe.

Unfortunately, the troll, while stupid and nearsighted, had an excellent sense of smell.  And it smelled the sweat and fear stench of the young wizard easily.  It was hungry, having been dragged over to this odd place of stone and wood by a skinny stuttering human before it had gotten a chance to eat the elk it had caught.  Now it was starving and it regarded anything smelling of warm blood and sweat as fair game. 

The gray behemoth licked its lips and began to smash apart the bookcases, knocking them over like ninepins.  Broken wood and glass littered the floor and bits of shredded parchment and cardboard drifted through the air like confetti as the troll ripped apart anything it could get its massive hands on. It crushed whole sections of magical texts beneath its mold-ridden feet as it stalked Harry.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the sour stench of troll and opened his eyes, realizing then that his tactic had failed and he needed to move . . .NOW.  He  leaped up from the chair, but quickly realized he had nowhere to run.  He was backed into a corner and the troll was right in his path. 

Breathing harshly, he drew his wand, though he felt about as dangerous as a boy holding a toothpick.  He didn't know the first thing about killing a troll with magic.  The only spells he had learned so far were how to light up his wand, Transfigure a mouse, and levitate a feather.  He was doomed.  Goodbye world. Guess I'll be seeing you, Mum, sooner than I expected. He gulped and crawled beneath the table, hoping it would protect him somewhat from the falling debris.  If he were lucky, a piece of falling stone might knock him silly, sparing him the agony of becoming the next steak on the troll's menu.  The book had said that trolls liked to play with their food . . .he fought back nausea.  He really ought to get a new hobby, he knew far too much about the eating habits of mountain trolls.

He started to crawl out from underneath the desk, hoping to maybe scuttle past the troll and behind the nearest bookcase when the spiked club dashed all his hopes by splintering the bookcase into kindling and one of the flying shards of wood struck him in the face, right above his left eye, opening a gash.  He wadded up Snape's handkerchief and pressed it to the wound, trying not to cry.  He was a Gryffindor, and he could face death bravely.  Like his mother had.

THUD! THUD!

"Potter! Where are you?"

Harry almost wept in relief.  Snape had returned at last. "Here, sir!" he yelled, knowing it was useless to try and hide now.  "I'm here!"

The troll bellowed in triumph as it spotted him. 

Then it swung the huge club downward.

"Protego!"

A large glowing blue shield appeared in the air just as the club would have smashed into Harry.

The club hit the magical barrier and bounced off, though the barrier buckled alarmingly.

The troll looked at its club uncomprehendingly. "Huh?"

"Potter, move your ass!"

Harry crawled out from beneath the table and darted towards the shattered bookshelf, slipping inbetween it and the one that was somehow still standing.  He was now out of the troll's direct line of sight.  Clutching the side of the bookcase, he watched as his potions professor confronted the puzzled troll.

"You brainless pile of excrement!" taunted Snape, firing off a Stinging hex.  "Come and get me."

The hex made the troll jump and look down, exactly as Severus had intended.  When it spotted this new annoyance, it bellowed and sliced downward with its club.

Harry gasped, sure Snape was about to end up pulverized.

But the Potions Master moved swift as a shadow fleeing the sunlight, and danced out of range.

The spiked club smashed into the floor . . .getting stuck for an instant in the floorboards before the troll yanked it free. 

Severus knew that he had to rid himself of the threat quickly.  He cast a Transfiguration spell, and the club became a bouquet of roses. 

"Huh?" grunted the troll and tossed the flowers down, scratching its head in astonishment.

Now the big creature was unarmed, but still dangerous. Mountain trolls might be stupid, but they were highly resistant to magic, one reason why their forest cousins were often used for guard duty by important wizards.  Many of the spells that incapacitated, like a Body Bind, would not hold a troll, and in order to Stun one you needed a team of wizards.  Severus knew several spells that might kill one, like a Burning or Blasting Curse, but he would also run the risk of killing himself or Harry in the process. There was one spell, however, that might finish the troll off, but it needed to get past the troll's natural magic resistance.

So he cast a Weakening Hex at the gray beast, a spell designed to weaken a creature's magical resistance.  Trouble was, the spell took a few minutes to take effect, and those few minutes were crucial.

The troll howled as the Weakening Hex began to work and stomped its foot down on the ground, trying to crush the black figure beneath its huge foot.  At the same time, it swung a massive fist at Snape's head.

Harry cried out in horror as he saw the professor suddenly fall to the floor, not realizing this was an evasion. 

The black-clad sorcerer rolled to the far corner of the library, avoiding both the stomping foot and the fist by a slim margin.  The library shook as the troll's rage made itself known. 

Snape was on his feet immediately, his face smeared with dust and a cut from a splinter of wood was slowly bleeding down his face.  Three more minutes and then I can cast it.  Only three.  It seemed a miniscule amount of time, but Severus was fighting for his life and minutes were endless.

The troll was enraged, its snaggly teeth bared in fury, pig eyes blazing with the need to rend and tear the sorcerer in front of it.  It started forward, clawed hands reaching to snatch up the man and crush the life from him.

Severus dodged, again and again, but each time there was less room to maneuver and he could not seem to catch his breath.  He had landed hard upon the floor and feared he had cracked a rib.  His foot caught on the protruding end of a piece of wood and he stumbled, pulling a muscle in the back of his calf.

Before he could right himself, the troll was on him.

As casually as swatting a fly, the troll slammed the Potions Master into the wall.

Severus' head and elbow hit the stone wall with a sharp crack.

He tasted blood in his mouth and his vision went gray.  He fought to keep from passing out, it felt as though spikes were being driven into his skull. He felt a searing pain in his left arm and then it went numb.  From far away he heard the troll bellow with laughter . . .or was it the laughter of the Dark Lord that he heard, mocking him for his devotion to a mere Muggleborn witch?

"Please, my lord, I would ask a favor," he had knelt at the feet of the beast wearing human shape, though such abasement made his soul shrivel in disgust.  

"Speak, my little serpent. What wouldst thou have of me?" Voldemort purred.  It amused the dark sorcerer to speak in antiquated speech patterns, like those Merlin might have used. One cold hand caressed the top of Snape's head, patting him like a dog.

Severus was repulsed by Voldemort's touch, though he hid the grimace.  "I would have you spare the life of Potter's wife."

"The Mudblood?" Voldemort laughed softly. "Why?"

"Because she . . .has caught my fancy, Master," Severus said, every word like acid on his tongue.

Voldemort probed a quick dart at the other's mind, and pulled from his follower an image of young Severus and Lily holding hands down by the lake, smiling at each other. "Ah, I see.  Thou heart, it seems, is not stone after all!" And the greatest dark wizard on the planet threw back his head and laughed.  "It shall be as thou wisheth, my loyal serpent! She alone shall be spared. As a reward for thou service in bringing me the prophecy, little Snape.  Thou Mudblood whore shall live."

Voldemort had lied.  The amusement had turned to a killing rage when Lily defied him and refused to stand aside while he murdered her baby.  Severus had not taken that into account, so desperate had he been to save Lily's life by whatever means necessary.  All he had been concerned with that night was trying to make amends for the terrible mistake he had made a week earlier, when he had carried the partial prophecy he had overheard Trelawney utter in The Hog's Head to Voldemort, figuring it was just nonsense, but it might keep Voldemort busy for a time, giving the Order a chance to move against him.  Everyone knew Trelawney couldn't predict her own lunch, she was a fraud, doing tarot card readings on gullible children to make ends meet.  Snape had never taken the prophecy seriously.  But Voldemort had.  The Potions Master had been horrified when he realized what he had done and had done his best to rectify it . . .too late.

Through waves of pain, Snape saw the troll coming.  He knew he could not get away fast enough.  His only regret was that he had failed Lily's son, that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise and protect the boy. 

Harry had watched in a sort of dazed horror as Snape had crashed into the wall, heard the sickening crunch as flesh met unyielding stone.  No! Please! Not again! He screamed soundlessly, unable to move. Once again history would repeat itself and he would watch as another gave his life for him. 

"NO!" he howled.

He could not bear another death on his conscience.

With an inarticulate howl, Harry darted in front of the troll, waving his wand wildly.  "Wingardium Leviosa!"

A chunk of stone the size of Harry's head flew through the air and slammed the troll in the face.

It was not enough to knock the troll out, though it did make it pause and shake its head. Blood was running from its nose and lip and it growled loudly and spat out a crooked tooth.  "Food . . .fight . . . good!" It grunted.

"You want a fight, you pathetic lump of lard?" Harry screamed.  "Fine, I'll give you a fight! I'll-"

A long-fingered hand gripped the back of his robes and pulled him backwards.  "Stupid boy! Do you have a bloody death wish?" Snape growled.  "I'll do the saving here, Potter!" He shoved Harry behind him and leveled his wand at the troll, who was still shaking its head to clear it.

"Sectumsempra!"

The troll bellowed in agony as huge gashes opened up in its abdomen and the backs of its knees, causing it to topple forward, Snape's spell had severed the tendons in its legs and it could no longer stand upright.

Snape tucked Harry beneath his good arm and managed to fling himself aside just as the troll crashed to the ground. 

The impact caused the castle to shudder and the troll screamed in agony, thrashing about until Snape finished it off with a second application of Sectumsempra.

The exhausted Potions Master lay still for a few moments, trying to ignore the fresh waves of pain throbbing through his head and arm. 

"Professor?" Harry asked in a small voice, and tried to wriggle out of the other's arm. Snape's skin was a pasty white color.

Severus forced his eyes open.  "When will you ever learn to do as you're told, you foolish child?" He pushed himself to a sitting position and then gritted his teeth.

"I thought it was going to kill you!" Harry protested, relief flooding him.  "And I couldn't . . .just stand by and watch it happen. Not again.  I won't have anyone die for me again!"

"That is not your decision to make," Severus said heavily.

"I don't care! Who am I that you should risk your life for me?" Harry shouted. "I'm nothing but a freak and a waste of space."

"Who told you that?" Severus demanded, furious.  "Your pathetic aunt? Her baboon of a husband?"

"You know them?" Harry gaped.

"Of course I do. Did I not say I was neighbors with your mother?" Severus snapped irritably.  "I grew up with Lily and Petunia and I know just how much Petunia despised her sister and me for having magic. Answer my question. Did they call you freak and tell you that you were unnatural?"

Harry nodded.  "All the time. They also lied to me and said my parents were shiftless drunks and they died in a car crash."

Severus' lip curled. "Your father was many things, not the least an arrogant braggart, but he was no drunk. Neither was your mother.  Lily hardly ever touched alcohol. Pay them no mind, Potter. That's spite talking, not truth. Your parents died valiantly, against impossible odds."

"I know. That's why I disobeyed you. Because I don't want to be The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice." Sudden tears filled his eyes then and he turned his head.

"Humph!" Snape said, but gently. "You may not live to see twelve with the way you fling yourself into danger. Just like your mother.  Do try and think a little, won't you?" He patted the boy awkwardly on the back.

Harry burst into tears.

Severus groaned.  He didn't deal well with crying students, he really didn't . . ."There now, child. One would think you'd be celebrating the demise of your snarky potions professor." Harry continued to sob. "Really, Potter, I'm running out of handkerchiefs, get hold of yourself." He dug in his pocket for another and handed it to the weeping boy, who took it and kept bawling.  Snape groaned again.  "Ah, hells." His reputation was shot to pieces anyhow once this got out. He draped an arm about the eleven-year-old's slender shoulders.  "Shhh.  Everything's all right now. Come, stop your crying, my robes are soaked with troll blood as it is."

Harry paid no attention to his professor's grumbling, he simply turned and buried his face in the velvet robes and wept, finally finding release in a storm of tears.

Snape held him, awkwardly, for this was the first time he had hugged anyone in years. He knew he was a poor substitute for Lily.  But he was all Harry had. 

Finally the storm subsided and Severus handed Harry yet another handkerchief-at this rate he was going to have to buy a gross of them. "Here. Blow your nose and wipe your face."

Harry did so and then gave him a tentative smile.  "Thank you, sir. Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine as soon as I get some healing potions," answered the master spy.  He shifted about cautiously and tried to get to his feet.  But his head started spinning like a top and he had to sit back down.  "Bloody concussion!" he muttered balefully.

Harry looked at him in alarm, but before he could suggest getting Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Quirrell , and Flitwick entered the library.  "Good heavens, what a mess!" exclaimed McGonagall.  "Poor Pince is going to have a coronary, Albus!"

"Er . . .yes, it is rather a disaster," said Dumbledore. 

"Professor Dumbledore!" called Harry.

"Harry, my boy! Fancy meeting you here." The Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling indulgently.  "And Severus too!"

"I was studying in the library when the troll came in here and it nearly killed me, sir," Harry explained as the four teachers stared at the dead troll amid the wreckage of the library.  "But Professor Snape saved me."

Dumbledore looked at Severus and smiled.  "Well done, Severus!"

Snape scowled thinly, he certainly didn't need the Headmaster praising him like a five-year-old.  "I did what anyone would have done, Headmaster."

"Great Merlin!" groaned Quirrell, and then he fainted.

McGonagall shook her head in disgust.  "Quirinius, honestly!"

Snape's lip curled.  "Douse him with water, Minerva."

"I shall, once we get you and Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing, Severus."

He opened his mouth to argue but Minerva would have none of it.  She conjured two stretchers and before Harry knew what she was about, had the two injured wizards floating down to the Hospital Wing, where she left them in Poppy's capable hands.

Madam Pomfrey sealed Harry's cut eyebrow with a single incantation and after giving him a vial of Pain Reliever for any aches and pains he might have, told him he could return to his dorm room and get some sleep.  But Harry didn't want to leave the professor alone, he was concerned Severus was more seriously hurt than he let on and he wished to know if Snape would be all right.  So he remained standing there while the mediwitch turned her diagnostic spell upon her colleague.

"Now then, Severus, let's see what you've done to yourself this time." She waved her wand over the professor, who was now wearing a lightweight hospital robe and tunic.  "Hmm . . .you have cracked ribs, a bad concussion, and a broken arm, plus assorted bruises. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were accident prone."

Severus arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

Pomfrey turned to get some potions off of her cart and spotted Harry.  "Mr. Potter, why have you not returned to your common room?"

"I . . .I just wanted to make sure Professor Snape is okay," Harry said shyly. 

"He'll be fine, Mr. Potter," Poppy waved him off.  "He's had worse. Off with you now."

But Harry was not satisfied.  A part of him worried that if he left, Severus might suddenly die on him.  He knew he was being superstitious and silly, but he couldn't help it.  So he remained where he was, refusing to move. 

Poppy frowned at him. "Mr. Potter, do you have trouble understanding English? Go-"

"Let him stay, Poppy." Severus ordered wearily.

"There's no need for him to do so," began the witch.

"Let him stay," Severus repeated.  "Mr. Potter, sit down and watch if you'd like."

Harry quickly found a small chair and sat in it, concealing a sigh of relief.  Snape understood!

He observed keenly as Poppy cast several healing charms over the professor.  One to mend his ribs, another to splint his arm and put it in a sling.  Then she gave Severus a few potions, a Pain Reliever, a Headache Remedy and another one which would heal his concussion and allow him to sleep.  "There! By tomorrow evening you should be back to class and docking points again, Severus.  Imagine, taking on a greater mountain troll by yourself! One might almost think you were a Gryffindor!"

Snape looked pained by that comment.  "Poppy, for the love of Merlin! Do not say that again.  What I did was to save a life. No more and no less."

"If you say so, Severus," she turned and winked at Harry.  "Now, why don't you take a nap? You'll feel better with some rest."

She then bustled off to take care of some paperwork in her office, leaving the Potions Master and Harry alone.

"Will you really heal as quick as she said?" Harry asked, for he had never seen magical healing done on anyone.

"Yes.  Magical healing methods work faster and better than Muggle ones, for the most part. If I were under the care of a Muggle doctor, I would be laid up for weeks." Snape told him.  "However, I shall be back in class in a day or so.  Luckily this is a weekend, so no substitute will be needed."

"Right. I'm glad you're going to be better by Monday." Harry said sincerely. "I'm looking forward to the next class."

Snape smiled wolfishly.  "You say that now, but you won't once you see the three-foot homework assignment I have for you."

"Three feet!" Harry exclaimed in dismay.  "What's it on?"

"You'll find out." He frowned sternly at his student.  "There is also the matter of you totally disregarding the orders of a professor and putting your life in danger, Potter."

"But I had to, sir! The troll was going to kill you!"

"That's no excuse.  It's the duty of an adult to protect a child in his care, not the other way around. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for behaving so recklessly."

Harry's face fell.

"Quit looking at me like that," Severus said gruffly.  "Thirty points for sheer courage and nerve, as well as saving the life of your least favorite professor." I must have hit my head harder than I thought, because I just gave Gryffindor all their points back and then some. I definitely need my head examined! "Now don't say I never gave you anything, Potter."

"No, sir." Harry assured him, smiling again.

Severus rolled his eyes.  "You had best be getting back to your common room, Potter. You may visit me tomorrow if you so wish.  By then I'll be going crazy and need a distraction."

Harry slipped off the chair.  "Sir?"

"What now, Potter?" the professor asked, somewhat crankily. 

"When I come back . . .will you tell me some more about my mum?"

  "Yes, yes.  But for now, boy, I need sleep and so do you. Now go, before I take thirty points from Gryffindor for your stubborn disobedience."

"Yes, sir." Harry started to leave, then turned about and said, "Happy Halloween, Professor Snape."

"Bed, Mr. Potter." Snape lifted a hand and pointed towards the door.  "And no eating sweets under the covers."

Harry gasped.  "How did you know?"

"I wasn't born yesterday.  Besides, it's what your mother and I used to do when we were that age." With that, Severus deliberately shut his eyes.  He would have to speak with Dumbledore tomorrow about the lack of any kind of ceremony to honor those that had lost their lives in the war with Voldemort.

Harry turned and tiptoed out of the infirmary.  It had been a good Halloween after all, he thought as he made his way up to Gryffindor Tower.  He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione all about the troll and his unexpected savior.

In spite of the pain in his head, Severus slept and dreamed as well.  But unlike previous Halloweens, he did not dream of Lily's death, or of his recent battle with the troll.  Instead, he dreamed that Lily and he were walking along the shore of the Black Lake, the sun was high in the sky, and she was holding his hand.  He might have thought it was an old memory, but in this one he was not fifteen, he was an adult and so was Lily.  For long moments they walked side by side, he in his classic black robes and she in a green jumper and denim skirt, her fiery hair swirling about her like a halo, her green eyes shining with love as she looked at him.

"Hello, Sev.  Isn't it a beautiful day?"

His breath caught.  She was here, alive, and talking to him.  "Lily.  What are you-I mean, yes it really is a nice day." He floundered, unsure if he should ask her how she came to be with him or simply make polite conversation.  He opted for the latter, for now.  "This is a dream, isn't it?"

"Yes and no.  Tonight is the night when the gateway between the living and the dead is thrown open, and spirits may roam at will where they wish.  But only till midnight. After that the gate closes and shall not reopen till another year has passed.  This year, I have finally managed to gain access to your dreams, Sev.  All the other years, you shut me out."

"I did?"

She nodded sadly.  "Oh, not intentionally.  Your guilt smothered my voice and your Occlumency shields prevented me from visiting your dreams. Until now.  Now you've finally let down your guard, I can be with you." She turned to hug him and he stepped away from her.

"No, Lily. Don't touch me.  I'll taint you.  You don't know what I've done!" He turned away, hugging himself.

"Sev, don't be ridiculous! I know about the prophecy . . .and who brought it to Voldemort.  Spirits can see both past events and present and sometimes . . .even the future." She came and put her arms about him.  "I missed you, Sev.  My first best friend.  Don't feel guilty over the past.  You never meant to hurt me."

"But I did hurt you," he cried in anguish.  "I betrayed you and you died for it." Tears trickled down his cheeks.

"No, Sev. Wormtail betrayed us.  And I died to save my son.  I would do it again, Sev.  Nothing you could have done would have prevented it. No bargain you made would have averted it.  I had two choices  that night, to live and watch my baby be destroyed, or to die and save him.  There was only one I could consider making.  I don't regret it.  You shouldn't either."

"I tried, Lily. I tried to save you-" he began raggedly.

"I know." She held him to her.  "But nothing could have saved me, Sev. I chose the path I walked long ago.  My only regret is that in doing so I hurt you when I left you behind."

"No, it was I who left you, to follow the road not taken," he argued.

She put a finger to his lips and quoted softly, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by."

"And that has made all the difference," he finished the last line of Robert Frost's famous poem The Road Not Taken.  "Truer words were never spoken.  Look where it led me."

"You travelled the road a ways, but then you turned from it.  You were tricked and seduced.  You were never one of them, Severus.  Not in your heart and soul."

"How do you know?" he demanded bitterly.

"Because you renounced the dark and came back to the light. You risked your life for us as a spy, what other redemption was needed?" She smiled gently at him and brushed his hair back from his face. "I forgave you your mistakes long ago, Severus. Now you must learn to forgive yourself."

"It's too late."

"It's never too late. Guilt serves no purpose save to chain you to sorrow. Let it go."

"How?"

"By finding someone else to love as you did me. I was your redemption.  But he is your hope, Sev. You pledged to protect him once.  But that is not all that he needs. He needs love, Sev. A love that I can no longer give him."

"Lily, I don't know if I can . . .I've lived too long with bitterness and anger . . .I don't know if I can be what he needs . . ."

"You already have, Sev.  Don't be afraid.  Trust your heart. It won't lead you astray."

"I . . .will try."

"That's all I ask of you." She kissed him then, a bittersweet kiss of passion mingled with regret.  "For what might have been.  Be happy, Severus."

He broke the kiss eventually, and stood before her, filled with love and longing.  "Was that why you came to me tonight?"

"For that and to remind you that you are loved. Always."

He pulled her to him and she wrapped her arms about him and he breathed in the scent of her, spring rain and the delicate lilies that were her namesake.  He held her then the way he never could in life, as close as his own heartbeat. 

Until she began to fade away. 

"Forgive me. But I cannot stay." She said regretfully.  "Remember me, Sev."

"Always, my love," he said, at last speaking the words he never had the courage to say when she was alive. 

The last sight that met his gaze were her eyes-brilliant emerald orbs shining with love and peace.

Then they were gone and he held only empty air.

Goodbye, Lily.

He woke with tears upon his cheeks, but he felt strangely at peace.  It was a feeling that was totally new to him.  He smiled tentatively.  Remember me.  He would never forget.  And he would make sure no one else ever did either.  He turned over and drifted back to sleep.  And this time the emerald eyes in his dreams were not filled with death, but life.

HPSSHPSSHP

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, he found his Housemates still discussing the troll and stuffing themselves with sweets from the feast. 

Ron was eating a chocolate frog when Harry appeared and he nearly choked upon it.  "Harry? Where did you come from? Thought you were in bed asleep!"

Harry shook his head.  "No. I went to . . .return a book I borrowed from the library and I got trapped in there when the troll came . . ."

Hermione looked horrified. "Harry, that's terrible! How did you get away?"

"I didn't.  Snape saved me."

Ron started to cough violently.  Hermione smacked him on the back and handed him a glass of pumpkin juice.  "Could you . . .uh . . .repeat that again? Because for a minute there I thought I heard you say that Snape saved you."

"I did. The troll was about to crush me to pieces and Snape came and dueled it to death."

"There, you see, Ron? I told you Professor Snape wasn't evil!" Hermione declared.

"He made me redo my potions homework! He gave me detention!  How can you say he's not evil?"

"He's going to give us three feet of homework on Monday," Harry remarked, smirking.

Ron almost had a stroke.  "Bloody hell! And you think he's not evil? What kind of teacher does that?"

"Homework is important, Ron.  It's how you reinforce what you've learned in class," Hermione began loftily.

"Please! I'd rather not even be in Snape's class." Ron groaned.  "It's a nightmare! Right, Harry?"

Harry hesitated.  Once he would have agreed with Ron quick as blinking.  But now . . .now he found he couldn't do so any longer.  Not after what had gone on in the library. He had to be honest and hope that his new friends accepted him for who he truly was.  "Actually, Ron . . .I kind of like potions."

"You what? Mate, how hard did you hit your head?"

"I didn't.  I think potions are interesting.  So are books.  That's what I was doing in the library, picking out a book.  Well, that and trying to remember my mother being happy."

"Your mum?" Ron blinked.  "Didn't she die when you were a baby?"

"Yes.  This very night.  And that's the only memory I have of her." Harry said quietly.

"Oh!" Hermione sniffed, tears in her eyes.  "That's so awful! I'm so sorry, Harry!" She started to cry softly.

"Here." Harry handed her Snape's handkerchief.  "Dry your eyes before you get saltwater on your paper. It doesn't mix with parchment."

Hermione chuckled and dabbed at her eyes.  "Good one, Harry."

"Huh? Did I miss something?" Ron asked.

"Never mind," Harry said. 

"All this time, we've been celebrating and you've been . . .missing your parents," Hermione said guiltily.  "You must think we're insensitive beasts."

Ron shook his head, understanding finally dawning in his eyes.  "Sorry, mate.  It's not that I forgot, I mean it's kind of hard to forget when You-Know-Who got destroyed tonight, but I just didn't think about, well, you know . . ."

"It's okay, Ron.  Halloween is different for you.  But I just needed to be alone, so I went to the library to think."

"And then you nearly got massacred by a troll!" Hermione said dramatically.  "Poor you!"

Harry flushed, embarrassed. 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Girls! Tell us more about the battle, Harry. What was the troll like?"

"Big, dumb, and smelly."

"What kind of spells did Snape cast? Did he use any . . .dark magic?" Ron asked very softly, his eyes wide.

"I don't know.  He cast some kind of spell over me when the troll's club was going to flatten me," Harry recalled, telling as much as he could remember about the spells he had seen the Potions Master use.

"That one sounds like a Shield Charm," Ron said.  "I've seen my dad cast that one."

"I'm surprised Professor Snape was able to defeat the troll with just magic," Hermione said.  "I've read that they're highly magic resistant."

"Usually it takes three or four wizards to knock one out, much less kill one." Ron said, reluctant awe in his tone.  "Snape must be stronger than I thought.  No wonder he wants the Defense Against the Dark Arts job so bad.  What did you say he cast at the end there?"

Harry tried to remember what incantation Snape had used. "Uh . . .I think he said something like Sectum . . .Spectrum . . .Sempra.  But I'm not really sure."

"Spectrum Sempra?" Hermione repeated. "I've never heard of that one.  I don't think it's in the Standard Book of Spells Level One."

"Fancy that!" Ron teased.  "A spell the know-it-all doesn't know."

"Ron!" the witch kicked him in the ankle. "I am not a know-it-all!"

"Sure you are," Harry said.  "You know more than he does, so to him you know it all."

"Oh! I never thought about it like that before!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling brightly.

Ron shot Harry a dirty look. "Thanks ever so much, mate."

"What? You ought to be glad Hermione and I like to study so much.  That way when you need help with your homework, all you have to do is ask us. We can explain where you went wrong and you don't have to look stupid in front of the teachers." Harry pointed out.  "Otherwise you'd be in danger of failing . . . especially in potions, because Snape loves to give long homework assignments.  And just think, you might even get better grades than Percy someday."

Ron was quiet for a moment.  "Hmmm.  You know, I never thought about it like that before.  I would love to make Percy eat his words. He's always saying I got the leftover brains in the family. I guess it's good to have friends who are smarter than your average wizard."

"Of course it is," Hermione said loftily.  "Don't you know anything, Ron?"

"Not as much as you do, smartypants."

All three of them laughed at that.

"Promise me something though, Harry," Ron said suddenly.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, imitating Snape had he only known.  "Like what?"

"Promise me that you won't turn into one of those kids who does nothing but study all day and night and who lives and breathes books. Please."

Harry chuckled.  "Not a problem, Ron.  I like books and potions, but I'm not a total brain box.  I still love Quidditch and Wizard Chess and stuff like that."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank you, Merlin! For a minute there I was afraid Snape had turned you into a dungeon crawler for life."

Hermione sniffed.  "Well, I, for one, am very glad that Professor Snape saved Harry tonight.  And that Harry enjoys potions too.  The professor must be happy to have found a kindred spirit."

Ron rolled his eyes.  "If you say so, Hermione."

"Oh, and one more thing," Harry added.  "Snape awarded points to Gryffindor."

Ron goggled, his eyes growing to the size of saucers.  "No bloody way! Snape's never-that I know of-given Gryffindor points."

"Well, he did tonight." Harry informed him. "But first he took points away."

"Typical. What for?"

"For me risking my life.  He took fifteen and then he gave me thirty for courage and saving his life. See, he's not all bad, Ron.  Ron?" Harry stared at the other Gryffindor, who appeared to have fainted.

"Oh, dear," said Hermione.  "I guess the shock was too much for him."

Harry laughed.  He bent and shook the other's shoulder.  "Wake up, Ron. Before I tell Snape you fainted over him."

Ron's eyes popped open. "Harry, don't you dare!" He yelped and sat up.  "Are you sure he gave points to you? You didn't hear wrong?"

"Nope.  Just check the hourglasses in the Entrance Hall.  You'll see."

"I wonder what the homework will be on Monday?" Hermione murmured.

"You'll have to wait and see." Harry told her.  "The professor wouldn't tell me."

"Oh, I do hope it's interesting."

"I hope one of you will help me with it." Ron groaned.

"If you ask me nicely," Hermione said.

Ron made a face at her, which made Harry laugh.

Then Harry yawned and said he was heading to bed, which prompted his friends to think about going to sleep also.  He pocketed some sweets as he passed the overflowing bowl left in the middle of the common room table for everyone to share.  He reached his room and changed into his pajamas, then sat crosslegged upon his bed and ate a few chocolates and pumpkin caramels.  Then he recalled the professor's admonishment and said guiltily, "Oops, I forgot." But he ate another strawberry cream and said, "Here's to you, Mum. And Dad too. Happy Halloween." He saluted the air with the sweet then popped it in his mouth. 

He fell asleep with the sugary taste still on his tongue.

He dreamed he was running very fast across a green lawn, but he was not frightened, for ahead of him was a familiar red-haired woman with brilliant green eyes.  Harry ran right into her arms.

"Mum?"

"Harry!" She cried, kissing his cheek and hugging him so hard he almost couldn't breathe.  "Let me look at you.  You've grown so much since I last saw you.  And you look very like your father."

"But I have your eyes, Mum.  Everyone says so."

Lily laughed, and the sound was like music.  "So you do, Harry. I've missed you so very much." She hugged him again.  "I'm so sorry that I couldn't be with you, but . . ."

"I know.  I'm sorry, Mum."

"For what, love?"

"For . . .for making you sacrifice yourself. If it weren't for me you might still be alive."

"Harry . . .oh, child . . .never think that!" Lily cried, her eyes filled with sorrow and regret.  "You're my son, and I would have protected you no matter what.  You're not to blame for the actions of a mad sorcerer.  You were a little baby.  My little baby.  You were the most important thing in the world to me. I would have done anything to save you.  Anything."

"You did," he reminded her, sniffling.

Lily held him and rocked him, humming soothingly.   "It's what mothers do for sons.  You have no need to feel guilty, Harry."

"That's what Professor Snape said."

"You should listen to him.  He was my best friend and I loved him very much." She sighed.  "The two of you are very much alike, you know. Both of you feel guilty over things that cannot be changed, choices that were not yours to make. I always knew that someday I might have to give my life to save you.  I did so willingly, never doubt that."

Harry stared into Lily's eyes, so like his own, and saw that she meant what she said.  "I wish it never had to happen."

"I know.  But it did happen and you must accept it and go on.  You have a whole lifetime ahead of you,  Harry, a whole new world to explore and I want you to live well and be happy. Don't dwell on the past.  What's done is done.  I'm sorry that I can't be with you, but there is someone else who will be there in my stead."

"Who?  Have I met this person?"

"You have. You have much in common." She bent and kissed him upon the forehead.  "I must go, Harry.  My time here is limited.  Don't be fooled by appearances.  Trust your heart.  And always remember, I love you.  Love is the one thing you take with you.  And the one thing you leave behind."

"I'll remember. I love you, Mum.  Tell Dad I love him too."

"He knows, Harry."

"Where is he?" Harry asked, looking around. 

"At heaven's gate, waiting for me.  I had unfinished business here, that's why I was allowed to cross over. Forgive me, Harry, but I must go." She hugged him one last time and then faded away into mist.

"Goodbye, Mum," Harry whispered.  "Rest in peace."  And somehow, he knew she would.

HPSSHPSS

What a strange dream, Harry thought upon awakening the next morning.  Rubbing his eyes, he looked about his dormitory.  His Housemates were still asleep, he was the only one awake.  Smiling, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.  He wondered if the professor was awake yet, and if he would remember that he had promised to show Harry some pictures of Lily and tell him some stories about her.  Perhaps Harry could even tell Snape about his dream.  He hoped the Potions Master did not think he was crazy.  Maybe he should just keep the dream to himself.  That way he would avoid making a fool out of himself.

He was still mulling the idea over in his head when he arrived at the Hospital Wing.  He had his hand upon the doorknob and was about to open it when he caught the sound of voices from within.  One was silky and sharp with disapproval and the other was deeper and clearly trying to soothe and placate the first voice.  With a start, Harry recognized Snape ‘s voice and Dumbledore's.  He put his ear to the keyhole and listened hard.  He simply had to know what they were discussing, even though it was bad manners to eavesdrop and Lily was probably frowning down at him from heaven.

" . . .can you not have realized how it must have seemed to the boy, to see the whole school celebrating a holiday when it was the anniversary of his parents' deaths? Did you know, Albus, that Potter remembers that night? That he remembers seeing his mother die in front of him?" Snape's voice was razor sharp, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Severus, he was a baby . . .are you certain?"

"I wouldn't have said so unless I was, Albus.  This isn't a bedtime story I'm telling here." Snape now sounded very annoyed.  "He told me so himself, when I asked him why he was hiding in the library instead of at the feast with the others."

"Alas! I confess, I had not thought about the impact the feast would have upon him. I naturally assumed he wouldn't remember anything about that night, considering how he was hurt and how young he was.  I should have known better.  Harry is a remarkable child."

"Obviously, Headmaster.  Sing Potter's praises later." The potions professor said impatiently.  "In any case, with a memory like that, it's no wonder he didn't feel he belonged at the feast.  He also mentioned something about no one else remembering that his mother had died that night."

"Severus, that's not so! Everyone remembers Lily's heroic death." Dumbledore protested.

"Do they? It hardly seemed so last night.  Nothing was mentioned at the start of the feast.  You didn't even allow for a moment of silence to honor the fallen, Headmaster.  You didn't bother to remind the students that Halloween is more than just a holiday where you gorge yourself sick on sweets and tell spooky stories and dare your rival to set foot in the Shrieking Shack.  You didn't remind them of the sacrifices that were made that night, of the cost required to bring down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! It's something that should not have been omitted!"

"Yes, you're right, Severus.  But I thought that it would be better to give the students a party, after all they've been studying hard, and I didn't want to be a wet blanket and ruin their fun by mentioning Voldemort."

"They could have fun afterwards.  It's important that the students remember, Albus,  a victory without acknowledging the sacrifices made is hollow.  Nothing comes without a price and the sooner they learn that lesson the better."

"What do you suggest I do to make up for my oversight?" inquired the elder wizard.

Harry inched open the door a crack, wanting to see as well as hear his two teachers.  He saw Dumbledore sitting in a comfy chair beside Snape's bedside. The professor was sitting upright, propped by pillows.

Snape stared hard at the Headmaster, wondering if the old man were humoring him.  He did not appreciate being patronized.  Then again, if that was the only way to get what he wanted . . . "I think there should be  a memorial put up with the names of those who sacrificed themselves to defeat You-Know-Who.  A plaque of some sort, very noticeable, that the students could see every time they entered the hall. In that way we shall honor their memory best."

Dumbledore thought it over for a few minutes.  "Yes. I think that is a lovely idea, Severus.  Perhaps you would like to assist me with it?"

Slowly, Snape nodded.  "Yes.  When shall we start?"

"When you are given a clean bill of health by Poppy, my boy." Dumbledore replied.  "Care for a lemon drop?"

"Maybe later, thank you," said the Potions Master politely.

Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic glance.  "I know that last night was difficult for you, Severus.  And I'm not only speaking about the troll."

Snape shrugged.  "I'm alive, Albus.  That is one thing you can be grateful for."

"I shall always be grateful for that.  Get some rest, Severus.  You need it." Then the Headmaster rose and prepared to depart.

Harry quickly stepped away from the door and retreated several feet  down the corridor, trying to act as if he had only just arrived when the Headmaster came  out of the infirmary. 

"Ah, good morning, Harry!" Dumbledore greeted. "What brings you to the Hospital Wing? Not feeling poorly after eating too many sweets are you?"

"Uh, no, sir.  I'm here to . . .err . . .visit someone."

"Capital, my boy! Nothing like a visitor to cheer up a sick person," Dumbledore said cheerily. "Go right ahead, Harry." Then he winked at the Gryffindor.

Harry pushed open the door to the infirmary and went inside.  He found Madam Pomfrey running her wand over Professor Snape and talking to him in a low tone.  Then she handed the professor a glass with something green and smoking in it.  Severus made a face, but drank the potion down without protest.

The look on the professor's face afterwards reminded Harry of the times when Aunt Petunia had made him drink some awful cold remedy because she couldn't stand hearing him cough continually.  But he had a feeling that whatever potion Snape had taken worked a hell of a lot better than Petunia's cold remedy did.

Harry waited until Poppy had left before going over to Snape's beside.  "Hello, sir."

Severus looked up and saw Lily's son standing there, looking rather awkward and uneasy, his hands shoved in the pockets of his robe, his messy hair sticking up all over.  The hair reminded him of James, but Harry's demeanor was pure Lily.  "Good morning, Mr. Potter.  Did you sleep well?"

"Uh . . .yes, I did.  Except for the dream I had."

"Dream?" The Potions Master quirked an eyebrow.

"Uh huh. It was really strange. I dreamed about my mother."

"A nightmare? You should have asked Madam Pomfrey to dispense you some Dreamless Sleep."

"Oh, I didn't need that, sir.  It was a good dream.  I can even remember most of it and usually I never remember my dreams.  Mum visited me in it and she told me that I shouldn't feel guilty anymore about her dying and . . .I felt better after that."

Severus felt as if he had been hit on the head with the troll's club and knocked for a loop.  Lily had come to Harry as well as himself last night.  He had no doubt that the boy was telling the truth, that his dream had been a visitation by Lily in spirit form.  "I see.  It would seem she was busy last night," he murmured to himself, not thinking Harry could hear him.

But Harry had excellent hearing, after so many years of being locked in a cupboard in near total darkness.  "Why do you say that, sir? Did she come to you too?"

Severus was quiet for several moments, and Harry feared he had offended the professor by his probing question. 

"Sorry, sir. It's none of my business."

Snape stared at the boy before him, his last link to the woman he had loved with all of his heart and soul. Lily's last wish had been for him to love her son as he had loved her.  He was not certain he would be very good at it, but he could not deny her this last wish.  He would try.  So instead of snapping at the boy to quit prying into his personal affairs, he said, "I normally don't discuss dreams or anything so private with a student, but . . .this once I shall make an exception.  Last night, your mother, or rather her spirit, came to me in a dream also."

"Really? How did it make you feel?" Harry blurted.

"What is this, morning sessions with the world's youngest pint-sized psychologist?" asked Snape tartly.

"Sorry, sir. I'm being rude again, aren't I?"

Severus sighed.  "What you're being, boy, is nosy.  You should already know the answer to that question."

Harry nodded.  Snape was in a good mood this morning, he had not taken points away from Harry yet or shouted at him.  "Oh. I guess I do. Would you mind if I sat down?"

"By all means, Potter, pull up a chair.  Your hovering is giving me a crick in my neck."

Harry quickly sat down.  "Are you feeling any better this morning, sir?"

"Adequate," answered Severus.  "What brings you here at this hour, Potter? Most children your age would still be snoozing away on a Saturday." Snape said, though he knew perfectly well why Harry was there.

Harry studied his shoes for a moment, trying to decide if he should remind Snape of his promise to discuss Lily with him.  He bit his lip and worried it back and forth.  He didn't want to irritate the Potions Master and risk getting Snape riled enough to order him out of the infirmary for being a pest.

"Well?  Are you going to talk or shall I just stare at the wall and try and divine the answer by deductive reasoning?"

Cautiously, Harry looked up.  Was that a hint of a smile upon the stern face? A softening in the obsidian gaze?  He took a breath and decided to chance it.  The worst Snape could do to him would be to take points and send him away, right?

"Uh . . .do you remember last night, sir?"

"What? Of course I do! I am not suffering from memory loss, Potter." Severus snapped. Cheeky brat!

"Well . . .err . . .do you remember promising me that you would tell me something about my mum?" Harry asked, wistful longing flashing across his face.  "Because I'd really like that. Unless you're too tired? I heard Madam Pomfrey say you ought to rest."

"Humph! She tells that to all her patients, Potter.  Sleep is the physician of pain.  I am not on my deathbed yet, so do not put me there ahead of time," grumbled the convalescent.  "Perhaps you would like to hear about the first time your mother and I met?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Lily and I grew up in the same town in Yorkshire and lived very near each other, on a street called Spinner's End.  It got its name from all the weavers who used to work in the factory downtown, spinning thread and making cloth.  Nearby the factory, which had closed down by the time I was born, was a small park, and it was there I met Lily . . ."

  Harry listened, rapt, as Severus related that long ago meeting, how he had revealed to Lily and Petunia that Lily was a witch, and told Lily that he was also a wizard.  "Your aunt sneered and mocked me for being different, she didn't believe me and called me a liar, but Lily knew I was telling the truth.  I told her all about the wizarding world and Hogwarts, showed her newspapers and books, I even took her to meet my mother . . .We became best friends . . .I trusted her the way I did no one else. I even let her give me a nickname.  She called me Sev . . .We  had much in common. We both loved books and potions, and we could often be found in the library together, studying or making up new potions.  As a matter of fact, the spot where you were sitting was the same one that Lily and I used to sit at . . ."

As Snape talked, he felt the knot of grief that had lodged in his chest for so many years loosen and fade.  By the time he had finished telling Harry a few stories about Lily and himself as children, it was almost gone.  It was strange, but he had never shared so much about Lily and himself with anyone.  Yet the words just flowed out of him naturally around Harry.Trust your heart. It won't lead you astray. He could tell that the boy truly appreciated the memories and wasn't just listening out of politeness, even though Snape knew he was no storyteller. 

Abruptly, the professor recalled the fact that Harry had no picture of Lily before she died.  Harry deserved at least one glimpse of the vibrant beautiful person she had been, who had stolen Severus' heart long ago.  Snape had an album of pictures of her, but wished to save that for another time.  For now, he would give Harry something else to remember her by.

He lifted his wand and cast a silent Summoning Charm.

Five seconds later, something bright and shiny zoomed into Snape's hand. 

Severus caught the object deftly and closed his hand over it.  Then he cleared his throat.  "Last night you told me that you have no memories of Lily save one, correct?"

Harry nodded, mystified.

"Perhaps you would like this to remember her by," said Severus and he opened his hand and gave Harry a silver and brass pocket watch.  The cover had the crest of Hogwarts upon it.

Harry fumbled a bit until he figured out how to open the watch, which also had a chain attached to it.  Inside was a large oval portrait of Lily as she had been at fifteen, looking up at Snape and laughing, her green eyes sparkling with joy.

"Just so she looked at me, one afternoon down by the lake." Severus murmured.  "I took her picture  and put it inside this watch, so I could look at her whenever I had time."

Harry snickered, recognizing Snape's odd sense of humor.  "Good one, sir." He traced Lily's face, loving how happy she looked.  He stared at the photo intently, as if trying to burn the memory into his brain.  "She looks like she was happy."

"She was.  That was the day we had won Slughorn's Best New Potion Award.  She and I created a Memory Enhancer." Severus recalled fondly.

"That's really wicked!" Harry exclaimed.  "How hard was it to make? How did you know what to do? What ingredients did you use?"

Severus held up a hand.  "Hold it, Potter! I can only answer one question at a time." He sounded a bit annoyed, but in reality he was pleased to have found a kindred spirit in Lily's son.  After explaining how he had invented the draft, he found himself growing tired.  He yawned and half-reclined on his pillows.  "Potter, why don't you go and eat breakfast and come by later this evening? By then I shall be more alert ."

"Okay, sir. Thank you for the stories. I really enjoyed them." He studied the watch again, then reluctantly closed the lid and offered it to the professor. "Here's your watch back."

To his utter shock, Snape pushed his hand away and then reached out and closed his fingers over the watch.  "Keep it."

Harry's jaw hung open. "Do you . . .mean it, sir? I can have it?"

"I just said so, didn't I? Something wrong with your hearing?"

"No, but . . .it's your special watch." Harry could tell how much the timepiece meant to Snape.

"I have another.  Take it.  Perhaps having it will make you be on time for my class." Severus said gruffly, pretending not to see the shimmer of tears in the green eyes.

"Thank you, sir! " Harry said, but it just didn't seem enough to say thanks.  Before he could stop and think, he had reached out and hugged a startled Severus. 

For one instant, Snape froze.  He could not ever remember a student daring to hug him before.  But Harry clung to him and Severus cautiously put his arms about the boy, drawing him close.  He knew he should have felt terribly awkward and embarrassed, but he did not.  Instead he felt just like a father would holding his son.  He found himself gently rubbing Harry's back and murmuring, "There now, Potter . . .it's just an old pocket watch, it belonged to my grandfather Prince . . .no need to act like it was the crown jewels."

"It's the best gift anyone has ever given to me," Harry managed to say through the lump in his throat. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

Severus coughed and pretended to blink away some dust that had gotten in his eyes, making them water.  "You are most welcome . . .Harry."

Harry smiled, then he pulled away, not wanting to embarrass himself or Snape any further by bawling like some silly girl.  Clutching the pocket watch, he turned and left the infirmary, calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you later, Professor!"

It was not until he had gotten halfway down the corridor, and paused to open the watch and peer again at Lily's picture, that he realized Snape had addressed him by his first name.  He felt a warm glow spread through him.   He recalled Lily telling him that there was someone else who would love him in her stead.  And now he thought he knew who it was. 

He tucked the watch gently into his pocket.  He would always treasure it.  Then he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.  For the first time he could remember, he was actually hungry on the morning after Halloween. 

Three weeks later, there was a large granite and cherry wood plaque in the Entrance Hall, commemorating all the former students of Hogwarts who had given their lives in the fight against Voldemort.  Lily and James Potter's names were first upon it.  Dumbledore called all the students out after breakfast to show it to them and explain how it was made to honor the fallen, so their sacrifice might never be forgotten.  He also asked them all to bow their heads for a moment of silence. The inscription on the top of the plaque read, "For All Those Who Have Given the Ultimate Sacrifice-We Honor You". 

Several of the girls started to tear up when they read that, including Hermione. 

Harry himself had to take one of Snape's handkerchiefs, which he always carried in a pocket now, and quickly pretend to blow his nose.  It was a fine memorial.  Lily would be proud.  He turned and looked in the back of the Entrance Hall.  In the far corner stood a familiar black-robed figure, observing quietly, his eyes bright with satisfaction.  Harry knew quite well who had done the most work in creating that memorial.  He silently thanked Severus for his tribute to the fallen.  They would never be forgotten again.

After a few moments, the crowd of students broke up and began heading to class.

Harry lingered in the Entrance Hall a few minutes longer, gazing up at the plaque and then back down at his watch. 

Suddenly, a hand descended upon his shoulder.  "If you don't hurry, Harry, you shall be late for my class." Severus murmured softly.

Harry looked up at his tall professor, whom he had come to regard as a surrogate parent over the past weeks.  "I'll run really fast, don't worry."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't get cheeky, boy.  Just because you now have an open invitation to visit my quarters doesn't mean I won't take points."

Harry merely grinned.  "The memorial is awesome, Professor Snape.  Mum would love it."

Severus put an arm about the boy he was gradually coming to regard as a son and said quietly, "She would indeed, Harry."  Then he ruffled Harry's hair affectionately.  "Get to class, brat! Before I give you detention for not being able to tell time despite the perfectly good watch you have in your pocket."

Harry smirked, hearing the affection behind the sternness.  He slipped out of the other's embrace and darted away, calling over his shoulder, "Okay . . .Sev!"

Snape scowled.  "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for daring to address a professor so informally."

Harry sighed.  He hadn't thought Snape would mind him using the nickname his mother had given her best friend when they were alone.  Just when he thought he had gotten around Severus' touchy pride . . .

"And fifty points for being just like your mother," Severus added quietly, as he watched his wayward child scamper down the stairs to the dungeons.

 Harry grinned  as he ran towards the potions lab.  Fifty points! He gave me fifty points! You were right, Mum. He really does love me. I think.

 Severus immediately wondered what in hell was wrong with him.  He had given Gryffindor fifty points! Well, thirty if he wanted get technical, he amended. Still . . .it had to be Lily's influence.  There was no other rational explanation. Was there?

Love is the one thing you take with you.  And the one thing you leave behind.

Shaking his head, Severus headed to the dungeons for his class, which he now looked forward to teaching due to a green-eyed wizard who had inherited his mother's gift for potions . . .and her best friend as his guardian.