Severus’ pensive mood was rudely interrupted by a staff meeting, with compulsory attendance. He had intended to make a brief appearance and leave the moment he was free to, but Albus insisted on keeping him till the end, and requested a private word after the others had gone.

Once the door had closed on the last staff member, Albus sat down next to Severus and studied him for a moment. “Something’s bothering you, Severus. Out with it.”

“It’s nothing,” Severus said, correctly expecting the Headmaster to see through him.

“I have known you a very long time, and I know when there is ‘nothing’ bothering you. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Severus sighed. “Potter came to see me. Thanks to you telling him Lily and I were friends; he wanted to know all about her.”

“And …?”

“Well, I gave him some photos I had, told him a bit about what she was like …” Severus trailed off and looked down at his lap. “Albus …”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t—expect—There’s something—things, actually—I promised myself I would tell him if he ever came asking … but I chickened out.”

“What sort of things?” Albus asked quietly. Severus didn’t reply. “Well, whatever they are, I’m sure it can’t make your relationship any worse than it already is.”

Severus glared at him.

-

Harry was beginning to wonder if he was getting paranoid. Ever since he left Gryffindor Tower the morning after Snape had given him the photos, he felt like he was being followed—but every time he turned round, he couldn’t see anyone there. Maybe the feeling had been brought on by Snape’s insistence that he keep the album to himself.

The last lesson of the day was Potions. Harry wasn’t particularly looking forward to the lesson, knowing full well Snape would be his usual snarky self. And he wasn’t wrong.

After the third time Snape snarled at him, Harry, fists clenched, was having real trouble remembering that merely twenty-four hours ago he had actually thought the man not that bad. That would teach him to think the best of people. Snape was obviously a masterful actor; he had somehow managed to convince Harry that he was a good guy just to mess with his head. He was nothing more than a slimy git.

But Mum liked him …

Harry jumped as the thought came into his head, and accidentally dropped his entire bottle of belladonna essence into the caldron. The thing exploded, showering everyone—including a passing Snape—with bright blue goo.

The glare Harry received as Snape Vanished blue goo from his face made him quake, as he spat out the mouthful that he had almost swallowed. Fortunately, the potion didn’t seem to be harmful; everyone’s skin was just turning an interesting shade of purple and beginning to smell of forget-me-nots. Snape strode around the classroom, administering a paste that reversed the effects, and Harry waited in trembling silence. As Snape gave Harry a handful of the paste to put on his face, he said, “See me after class, Potter.”

Harry gulped.

When the bell had gone and the classroom had been cleaned, the class filed out. Harry hung back, telling his friends to go on without him.

Ron cast a loathing look at the teacher. “Yeah, he’s a real charmer, Harry,” he muttered. Harry kicked him.

The classroom door closed, and Snape met Harry’s eyes and beckoned him over. Suddenly he didn’t look so angry, and Harry wondered if he wasn’t going to shout at him and give him detention after all. As he drew nearer, still slightly nervous, he recognised the hint of emotion in Snape’s eyes, and remembered the album in his dormitory.

“You don’t need the photos back yet, do—”

Snape glared at him, glancing meaningfully behind Harry. Harry turned, and saw one student still hadn’t left.

“Mr Malfoy,” Snape said impatiently, “did you not hear the bell?”

“I’m going, Professor,” Draco said, hurrying to the door whilst avoiding Harry’s eye. Draco pushed the door behind him so it banged and flew open again. After waiting a moment for Draco to close it properly, Snape sighed and strode over to the doorway, closing it himself.

Once he had done so, and cast the silencing charm, he turned back to look at Harry.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t think—”

“You would do better to check a room is empty before raising confidential subjects,” Snape said. He didn’t snap, but there was a note of reprimand in the tone anyway.

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Harry waited.

Snape sighed. “We can discuss punishment for the botched potion afterwards.”

Harry winced, but his curiosity was piqued. “After what, Professor?”

“When you came to see me about your mother …” Snape hesitated. “There was something I should have told you.”

He sounded nervous, Harry realised with a start. What could possibly make Snape nervous? “What?”

“I think … in here would be best.” Harry’s eyes widened as Snape led him through to his office, and gestured to the door leading to his quarters.

“Sir?”

“You are, of course, free to run out again screaming at any point if you so desire,” Snape said, with his slight smile. “But I think, for what we have to discuss, informal might be best.”

Now Harry was definitely confused. But his curiosity won out, so he nodded. “Um, okay.”

Snape gestured for him to enter, and followed him in, closing the door firmly behind them. The room beyond, Harry was surprised to find, wasn’t half as dank and dreary as the rest of the dungeons. It was actually quite warm and welcoming. Snape’s living-room was decorated in a light emerald green with a tapestry either side of the fireplace, which held a roaring fire. Snape moved quickly to the fireplace and did something to the clock on top of it. A golden grill lowered itself down over the fire, which went out.

“Sorry about that,” Snape said as the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. “But I cannot risk this conversation being interrupted by any visitors.” He turned round to see Harry still hovering. “Sit down, Harry.”

Harry did so, on tenterhooks. Snape poured himself a rather large Firewhiskey and drained it in one gulp before sitting down as well, facing him.

“I realise you must still have a lot of questions,” Snape began. “And I don’t think I can hope to be able to answer them all at once. I should not, anyway; there is such a thing as information overload.” He paused. “But there is one thing that I promised myself I would tell you, when you came asking about Lily—and I think if I don’t say it now, I will lose my courage to.”

Harry wondered idly how much of that courage was down to the Firewhiskey, but was too intrigued and a bit afraid by Snape’s tone to give it too much thought.

“Go on,” he said after a moment, when it looked like Snape needed some encouragement.

“I already told you, that my friendship with Lily was kept secret, to keep me out of trouble with my peers.” Snape swallowed. “As the years went by, it got more and more difficult. I was, myself, pressured into taking the Dark Mark.” Harry gasped; he hadn’t seen this coming. Snape bowed his head slightly, as if ashamed. “Lily convinced me to go to Dumbledore, and I became a spy, reporting information from the Dark Lord’s circle to him.”

“Wow,” Harry whispered. Snape was braver than Harry had ever given him credit for. But after a moment he frowned slightly. “Sir, why are you telling me all this?”

“If you’ll let me finish …”

“Sorry. Carry on.”

“I was playing a dangerous game,” Snape said in a low voice. “Any hint of association with a Muggleborn—especially Lily, who was known to be working against the Dark Lord—and I would have suffered a traitor’s death … you don’t want to know what that entails.”

Harry shuddered, his imagination going into overdrive.

“The thing was, at that time …” Snape swallowed hard. “Lily and I were … well, more than friends.”

The words shocked Harry to the core and he gaped at Snape. “What?”

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this,” Snape said quickly, as if trying to get it all out before his nerve failed, or Harry hit him. “I understand that. But you need to hear me out.”

Snape and Mum??? Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and nodded at Snape. “Go on.”

“Our cover became more elaborate,” Snape continued, still talking quickly. It occurred to Harry that maybe he was trying to get it over quick because the memories were painful. “James was brought in on it. To this day … the world thinks of your mother as Lily Potter.” Harry suddenly stopped breathing, as a horrible feeling twisted his insides. “As they think of you,” Snape said, more hesitantly, “as Harry Potter.”

Harry swallowed hard. “But … are you saying … I’m not?”

Snape shook his head slowly. “No, Harry, you’re not.”