Harry stared in stunned silence at the shoe box filled with envelopes of various sizes and colours, all addressed to his aunt in an elegant, looping script.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course,” Snape said, nodding.

Harry reached out and took the pink envelope that lay on top. As he slid the card out, he saw Snape reach for the next missive in the box. 

 

 

Dear Tuney,

I just finished my first week at Hogwarts. We took the train to a village up north and then we took boats across a lake and arrived at this huge castle! They brought us inside and then sorted us into one of four houses. I’m in Gryffindor. Severus is in a different house called Slytherin. We sit according to our houses and eat at these really long tables where food appears out of nowhere! There is more food than I’ve ever seen before in one place, and all different kinds too. I wish you were here with me to see it. Being a witch is so much fun! It’s only the first week, but I’ve made lots of new friends. The classes are really interesting even if we have a lot of homework. I can’t wait to tell you more about it over winter break.

I’m sorry that Severus and I read your letter from Dumbledore. You were right. It was yours and we shouldn’t have. I know you don’t like Severus, but his life is really hard and he has trouble making friends. I think he’s just jealous of you. I keep telling him that he doesn’t need to be. You’ll always be my sister, just like he’ll always be my friend.   

Please write back soon.

Love,

Lily

 

 

Harry stared in awe at the letter. It had been his mother’s first week at Hogwarts. Considering she’d been raised a Muggle just like he was, he knew exactly how she felt when she stepped into Hogwarts for the first time. He smiled in remembrance at the awestruck feeling of seeing the gigantic castle, of stepping inside and looking around in wonder, of walking its enchanted halls and navigating the moving staircases, of the sorting hat’s song, of the amazing spread of food at the welcoming feast.

Snape made a noise of disgust and Harry looked up to see Snape pushing the letter he was reading aside. Snape promptly reached into the box for another, and pulled out a folded sheet from the middle of the stack. Spreading it out before him, Snape bent his head to read. Harry’s hand shook as he set aside the card he’d been reading, a crooked grin still on his face, and reached into the box for another. 

 

 

Petunia,

Happy Birthday. I hope you like the sweater I made you. A girl in my class taught me how to knit, and I know that peach is your favourite colour.

I wish you’d write to me. I know you are still angry with me for the prank that Severus and I played on you this past summer, but that was two months ago and it was just a joke. You know I’d never really do something like that. You’d been so serious all summer. Really, Tuney, I thought it would make you laugh. Granted Severus might have gone a little too far with the fake blood and all, but you have to admit, it was funny.

Anyway, all of the 5th years have a test coming up to prepare us for our really big exams at the end of the school year so I need to study. Please write back.

Lily

 

 

Harry looked up to ask Snape what prank they had played, but the wizard’s eyes looked glassy and unfocused. His hands were clenched on the parchment and they trembled slightly. Feeling like he’d interrupted the man in the midst of something personal, Harry set his letter aside and made a mental note to ask Snape about it later. He was about to reach for another letter when Snape abruptly pushed back from the table.

Harry watched as the potions masters rummaged through cabinets, finally returning with a tumbler and a bottle of firewhiskey. From the looks of the dust that covered both, Harry guessed the wizard didn’t drink very often. As Snape polished and then filled the glass, Harry noticed the first letter that Snape had set aside. Surreptitiously, he reached for it, curious about what had made Snape so unhappy. 

 

 

Tuney,

Severus and I had a fight today. We’ve been fighting a lot lately, but not like this. He said something unforgiveable today. I know you think he has a mean streak and that I’m blind not to see it, but I know Severus. Or at least I thought I did. You always get mad when I defend him, but I know what his home life is like and I always thought that maybe somehow I could make up for how his father treats him. Plus, he doesn’t have it easy here at school. Kids from the other houses pick on him because he’s in Slytherin, and he’s poor, and his father is a Muggle. I’ve tried to be understanding, but I don’t know anymore. He seems so angry all the time. And he’s started hanging out with some really bad kids from his house. He doesn’t see the negative influence they are having on him. I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he won’t listen. Please don’t say you told me so. Severus was my first real friend and I care about him deeply, but I can’t support what he and his friends are doing. I just don’t think I can hang out with him anymore.

I hope you are having a better week than I am. Write soon.

Lily

 

 

Harry slid the letter back to where Snape had left it, feeling shaken. He wondered what Snape had said to his mother. Could it have been the time he’d seen in the Penseive where Snape had called her a Mudblood? And the bad Slytherin kids she had mentioned, could they have been the start of Voldemort’s followers? Or were they just bullies? Harry looked up to see Snape immersed in another letter, a look of fierce concentration on his face. Harry didn’t dare ask what had happened; he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. A little more leery this time, he reached into the box and pulled out a card with a picture of a stork on the front. 

 

 

Petunia,

I wanted to share the news with you. James and I are expecting a baby! We are so excited. We’d only just begun to try and I conceived right away. I’d have told you sooner, but with mom and dad travelling, I had a hard time finding your new address. Congratulations on the buying a house in Surrey by the way.

I know you’ve never forgiven me for marrying a wizard, but James is a really great guy and I’m sure you’d like him. I understand why you didn’t come to the wedding, but you are my sister, and soon you are going to be an aunt. I am hoping we can let bygones be bygones. We are family after all.

Anyway, back to the baby. I’m 30 weeks pregnant now and I feel great! I was a little sick in the beginning, and tired too, but that’s all passed. Only six weeks left to go! The World Quidditch Cup is approaching and James wants to paint the Chudley Cannon’s mascot on my watermelon of a stomach, but I won’t let him. I said he had to let our son or daughter make his or her own choice about what team to support.

I hope you and Vernon are well. Please write and tell me how everything is going on your end.

Best wishes,

Lily

 

 

 

Harry’s heart raced at the words. His mother had been pregnant with him. And his mum and dad had been excited for his birth. Clearly Petunia had not approved of his dad, but Harry ignored that part. He didn’t have time to worry about why his mother had kept trying to have a relationship with her inflexible and prejudiced sister. Instead, he tore through the missives in the box, looking for some mention of his birth. Surely Lily would have let her sister know. And she probably would have sent pictures too.

Harry’s fingers brushed something cool and smooth. Eager with anticipation, he pulled out a photograph. It was a picture of Lily as a young girl in her Gryffindor robes. Second or third year, Harry guessed. Standing next to her was a pale and thin Slytherin boy. Harry looked closer. Was that Snape? The boy was slightly shorter than Lily. He had straight black hair and a chagrined expression on his face. Next to Lily’s rosy red cheeks, sparkling eyes, and glowing smile, the boy looked positively ill. Harry rolled his shoulders and stretched his stiff neck, uncomfortable with the knowledge that Snape’s childhood had been no better than his own. Frowning, he set the image aside, and reached back in the box.

His fingers soon grasped another photograph, and this time, he pulled out a picture with two images on it. On the left was a baby with dark hair, huge pale eyes, and pursed pink lips. Next to that was an image of a toddler with the same huge eyes, now a bright green, a mop of unruly black hair, and a mischievous grin on his face. Harry studied the pictures for a long time, wishing he could remember what it had been like to be the child of James and Lily Potter. Finally, he flipped the picture over. A handwritten note on the back read: Harry at 2 months and at almost 14 months. It’s amazing how much he’s grown! In the last two months, he’s gone from scooting between pieces of furniture to chasing the cat at top speed. He’s also talking up a storm. Sirius says that he looks like me, but I think he looks more like James. How’s Dudley? Mum and dad say he’s a real charmer. I’d love to meet him. Please send pictures. Lily

Harry turned the photo back over and studied the pictures of himself once more. His mother and father had loved him. He was sure of that. If only Voldemort hadn’t killed his parents, he’d still have a family. He’d have a home. He wouldn’t be the bloody boy who lived, he’d just be another wizard kid. Or maybe not. Perhaps Voldemort would have taken over the Wizarding World by now and neither he nor his friends would be alive. He set the picture down on the table in front of him and sighed.

Swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat, Harry looked up to see Snape staring at him. Their eyes met for a moment in silent understanding. Harry wondered if his own expression looked as tortured and desolate as Snape’s did. Harry understood, then, that he was not the only one who could claim loss and regret at the death of his parents.

 

---

 

Over two hours later, Harry and Snape were still sitting at the table, a bottle of firewhiskey nearly empty at Snape’s elbow. Pieces of parchment in every colour of the rainbow lay spread across the kitchen table in disarray.

“And then,” Snape said, wiping tears from his eyes, “she threw her wand down and...” Snape paused to gasp for breath, “she punched him in the nose.”

Harry moaned and held his gut. It ached. Harry had never heard so many words from the normally taciturn wizard at one time. It seemed alcohol loosened the man’s tongue. Perhaps that was why he rarely drank it. Harry took a deep breath, trying to gain control. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. And he’d never seen Snape smile, much less hoot with laugher. Yet here they were, Snape’s harsh barking laughter filling the room, Harry chortling alongside the older man, as Snape told of his and Lily’s many misadventures together. Lily Evans sounded like a combination of Hermione’s intelligence and cleverness, and Ginny’s self-possession and fearlessness. Harry grinned at the heady thought.

It hadn’t all been funny, though. There’d been some tense moments, and plenty of cursing. Harry had watched Snape’s usually blank face run through the gamut of emotions, from sadness to joy, astonishment to fury, regret to painful acceptance. Harry knew how Snape felt; he’d experienced the same feelings in the same short time span.

“I wish I could have known her,” Harry said.

Snape’s eyes focused and he looked straight at Harry. “She was extraordinary,” he said with reverence. “The sun shone brighter when she stood beneath it.”

Harry smiled sadly, and closed his eyes. He wanted more than anything to remember his mother’s warmth, her scent, the sound of her voice. He clutched the picture in his hands more tightly, and opened his eyes to gaze at a picture of himself with his mother and father—James and Lily—dated exactly one month before they had been savagely murdered. Harry couldn’t help stare into his own green eyes in the angelic face of his mother. Her hair was the same colour as Ginny’s and her smile was contagious. She glowed with sheer happiness and pride as she held Harry in her arms. James stood protectively alongside them, his arm around his wife, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He looked for all the world like the proud husband and father that he was. Struck by a thought, Harry asked, “Did you ever reconcile with my father?”

Harry knew the second those words slipped from his lips it had been a mistake. He looked up in time to see Snape’s expression transform into one of scorn and contempt.

“No,” Snape said, his voice suddenly hard and brittle.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from asking any other stupid questions. He didn’t really blame Snape. He couldn’t imagine ever forgiving his cousin Dudley, or Draco Malfoy for that matter. Harry sighed with resignation. Just the mention of Snape’s childhood nemesis had fractured the fragile strands of camaraderie that had momentarily formed between them.

“The letters are yours,” Snape said abruptly. He pushed a wayward pile of correspondence toward Harry. “Thank you for letting me read them.” With that, Snape stood and left the room.

Harry stared after him, all feelings of warmth and happiness draining away to be replaced by a forlorn sense of bereavement. Shaking his head in regret, he gathered the letters which had given him a needed glimpse into his mother’s life. His father’s name caught his eye, and Harry paused, thinking. Then, he separated out all of the cards, letters, and pictures that mentioned or showed him or his dad, and stuffed them into an envelope which he placed in his back pocket. He put the rest of the missives back into the box, carefully placing the picture of a young Lily and Snape at Hogwarts on top, and left them on the table. Those years with Lily were Snape’s, and Harry didn’t want to take them away from the wizard who had already lost enough in this war.