Snape's Journal

June 21, 1993:

That night we all went over my mother's flat to celebrate her birthday. She was fifty-three, middle-aged as Muggles measure time, but still young for a witch, who could sometimes live into the hundreds. She had me when she was twenty, but after that could bear no more children, a fact which I think relieved her and irritated my father, who wanted another son to replace me, since he thought I was a disappointment. I think Mum was relieved because we had barely enough money to support three, never mind four, and she didn't want another child exposed to the poverty and abuse like I had been. There were times that I wished I had a sibling to share things with, but other times when I was glad it had just been my mother and me.

Lily and I had made Mum a special dinner, her favorite chicken and dumplings over mashed potatoes and fresh bread with butter. Harry had baked his grandmother a special cake, gingerbread spice, with cream cheese icing. Lily helped with the icing, but Harry made the cake himself, two layers, and did the writing too.

Mum lived in the flat above her apothecary, so she never had far to go to open the shop. There were three levels to the building. The basement, which had her lab and storage for potions, the ground floor, which had the shop and exam rooms, since an apothecary was also a kind of Healer, though one who healed with potions and elixirs, not spells. Those who were not well off usually brought themselves and their children to an apothecary because apothecaries tended not to charge exorbitant fees like some private Healers did.

"Harry, you did a wonderful job on my cake." Mum praised her grandson. "Did you make it the Muggle or wizard way?"

"Muggle, because I don't know how to do it the other way," Harry answered, smiling. "Would you like to cut the first piece, Gran?"

While Eileen did the honors, I made coffee and tea, then we all sat down and ate a piece of cake and drank whatever beverage we preferred. She had already opened her gifts, a new aquamarine summer-weight cloak lined with green satin from me, a pretty Celtic horse brooch inlaid with beryls from Lily, and Harry had bought her a box of her favorite sweets and the book The Apothecary Bible with his own money. He received an allowance for doing chores and helping me mark papers and also did odd jobs around the neighborhood. That way he learned responsibility and how to save his money for something special.

We all praised Harry, the cake was delicious, and then my son asked if we could play the Eye-Mind Game. It was a memory game created by Specs to keep their memory sharp and honed, and able to look at a room and remember all the things in their exact place the first time, so in case some key evidence was moved, they would know of it. It also trained them to be keen observers of details, which was vital for a spy. It was played using seven items—a ball, a cup, a needle, a glove, a fake wand or stick, a comb, and a coin. The items were then scattered about the room by the Placer, while the participants closed their eyes and counted to one hundred. Then the players opened their eyes and looked about the room, locating all the items. They had five minutes to memorize all the items before they had to shut their eyes again and the Placer moved everything around. Then they could open their eyes and had to find all the items and say where they had been previously, and were timed. The first person who found all the items and where they had been before won.

Usually, when we played, Lily was the Placer, claiming it wasn't fair for her to play against me or Harry since she had been trained to be a superb observer. "I have an unfair advantage," she said. But on Mum's birthday we all played, even Lily, and for one round I was the Placer, and Lily, Eileen, and Harry competed with each other.

To Harry's shock, his grandmother won. "Wow, Gram! I didn't know you were that good at this game."

Lily chuckled. "Harry, didn't you know your grandmother was once a spy like me?"

Harry stared at Eileen, his eyes wide. "You were? I never knew that!"

"That was a long time ago, Harry. Before you were born, when Voldemort rose to power the first time, I was a member of the secret Eyes and Ears group . . .ordinary citizens who kept their eyes and ears open and passed on anything useful we overheard about Voldemort and his Death Eaters to the Aurors."

"Were you a member too, Mum?"

"No, for I was a Special Auror trainee. But your father was Eileen's Keeper."

"What's that?"

"It means that I was your gran's backup, in case anything happened to her, I had documents of all she had overheard or seen, kept safe and hidden away. There were always pairs in the Eyes and Ears, because you had two eyes and two ears and you never knew what could happen back then . . ."

August, 1979:

After I finished school, I got my certification as an Advanced Potioneer, or a Master of Potions. That was the easy part. I then apprenticed to my mother, as her assistant apothecary, and that was the hard part. My mother was a strict taskmistress, she was a perfectionist when it came to her potion making. I suppose she had to be, since a misbrewed potion could result in a patient or customer dying. What that meant for me was that I had to brew each draft correctly the first time, or else risk the lash of her tongue. Luckily I was very good at potions and rarely made stupid mistakes when brewing. I say rarely, because everyone makes stupid mistakes and I was not infallible.

But I loved potions and so made an effort to do my best every time I brewed something. It was a matter of both necessity and pride. And after Lily had moved away, potions were what I lived for. That and my mother and dog were what mattered most to me. We brewed twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, spent Friday shopping or gathering ingredients and the rest of the week seeing patients and dispensing potions or serving customers in the shop. My mother usually saw patients, though I would watch and she soon had me diagnosing minor ailments and fixing up lacerations and bruises. It was something I needed to be proficient at if I were going to be a good apothecary. The apothecary was closed on Sunday and only open half a day on Saturday.

Mum paid me a standard wage, such as any apprentice might expect, plus bonuses around holidays and commission if I sold some of the really rare potion ingredients, like basilisk teeth or dragon's blood. While I worked, Gabe could be found lying either behind the counter asleep, or sitting in front of it greeting people with a wag of his tail and a lick. He soon became a favorite with people, especially small children, who loved to pet him, pull his ears, and hug him. Thank goodness Gabe tolerated the little tykes, he never moved, even when they hurt him. Not once did he ever growl or show his teeth.

Mum sometimes used him as a reward for good behavior with some of the little ones, who didn't want to take potions if they were sick or let her treat them if they were hurt. She would say, "Now Johnny, if you're good and take this PepperUp potions, you can play with Gaby for awhile afterwards and make him do tricks. Would you like that?"

Nine times out of ten, the answer was yes.

And Gabriel never minded doing tricks for treats. My happy-go-lucky collie was a sucker for a bit of fried liver or beef jerky, or bits of chicken.

Soon our apothecary, which was called ES's Solutions, became more commonly known as "The Collie Apothecary", at least among the local children and customers who frequented our shop. It's amazing what an animal will do for one's publicity. The other apothecaries in Diagon Alley besides ours, there were two, often gave out sweets to their customers, but my dog even beat them out. Many little ones left the shop bawling "I wanna pet Gaby!" instead of "I wanna lolly!"

Their crying distressed my collie, who would sometimes try and follow them, and either Mum or I would have to call him back.

Gaby's presence made our apothecary known as a friendly innocuous sort of place, a place where people felt comfortable gathering and therefore a prime place for gossip and rumors. That aided Mum and I immensely when we joined the Eyes and Ears as the war with Voldemort heated up. But in the beginning, I was just an apothecary.

One Wednesday in August I had been up all night brewing several drafts of Pain Relievers and as a result was very tired the next morning, so much so that I was yawning over my counter, when Gabriel started whining to go out. I couldn't leave the shop unattended, and my mother was brewing in the lab, finishing up a special order. "Ah, hells, Gabe! Of all the times . . ." I groaned.

Eight-year-old Shelby Wynters happened to wander in just then, to pick up an Arthritis Elixir for her grandfather, who ran the stationary next door. "Hi, Gabe!" She hugged and stroked my red-gold dog's head. "Hi, Severus!"

"Here to pick up your order, Shelby?" I asked politely, getting it from the cubicle and wrapping it for her. It had been paid for in advance, as were all Mr. Wynter's purchases.

"Yes, please." Shelby was a little thing, dressed in jeans and a sun-yellow shirt with ruffled sleeves, she had gingery hair and loads of freckles and blue eyes. An ordinary little witch. She reminded me somewhat of Lily at that age, though Lily had outgrown her freckles and had never had hair that particular bright orange shade. She took the vial and tucked it in her pocket. Gabriel whined again. "What's the matter with Gaby?"

"He needs to go out, but I have to stay here in the shop," I sighed.

"I could take him for a walk, Severus. I don't mind. Grampa's out for lunch anyhow." Shelby offered.

I made a quick decision. "All right." I tossed her Gabriel's lead from behind the counter. "Just tell him "Heel" and he'll walk nicely."

She knelt and snapped the lead on him. Gabriel wagged his tail and licked her, knowing perfectly well what the lead meant. "C'mon, Gabriel!" she called gaily, and then started to walk towards the shop entrance. "Heel!" she ordered, and Gaby walked calmly beside her.

Just then the shop bell tinkled, and three girls about Shelby's age entered. One of them, a haughty little piece called Ekaterina Ellsby, looked down her nose at Shelby and said, "What's this, Wynters? You going to be a dog walker when you grow up? Guess you'll need lots of practice picking up dog doo." She laughed and so did her rotten friends. "I heard your grampa's shop was going to be mortgaged by Gringotts, so I guess you need the money."

Shelby flushed. "You heard wrong, Ekaterina. Come, Gaby." She moved to leave the shop, ignoring the tittering bubbleheads behind her.

I came around the counter and walked up to them, scowling. "Are you here for a purchase or a consultation? If so, state your business. If not, then get on home."

The two hangers on shrank backwards and then Ekaterina said, "You can't talk to me that way! My father's the Assistant Secretary to the Minister of Magic."

"Good for him. If you're not going to buy anything and all you're here for is to make trouble, I suggest you leave, girl." I gave her my best Tobias glower. Little stuck up snot!

She shrank away, then turned and screamed in her best I'm-gonna-tell voice, "I'm gonna tell my mother on you, Snape! You tried to put a curse on me!"

"What? You lying little brat! I don't even have a wand on me."

"You've got killing curse eyes! They're all black with no soul!" she cried dramatically and then ran out of the shop with her little friends yelling, "Curse eyes! Curse eyes! Eeeek!"

One of them knocked over a jar and it broke all over the floor.

I shook my head. Someone needed to take that smug brat over their knee. I cleaned up the mess with a wave of my wand, then returned to helping the man who had been perusing the crushed woundwort in the back of the shop.

I had just finished wrapping up his purchase when Shelby returned with Gabriel. She was smeared with dirt and had scrapes on both knees and hands and looked as if she had been crying. Gaby was panting and looking at her worriedly.

"Shelby! What happened?"

"Nothing," she muttered, looking down at the ground.

I came around the counter. "Hey. Nothing doesn't give you scraped knees and hands. Did you fall down? Or did Ekaterina and her little snots push you?" I was almost positive I knew what had happened.

"I can't tell you," she sniffed.

I put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to. I already know what happened. They ran into you on your way back here and started with you. Tripped you and knocked you down, right? And then Gabe scared them away by barking, made them run screaming down the street. Right?"

She stared at me, wide-eyed. "How'd you know? Can you read minds?"

"No," I rolled my eyes. "Come on, let me fix those scrapes."

She jerked back. "I-I can fix 'em."

"Hands are awkward to manage by yourself," I said calmly. "I'll try not to hurt you too much."

"Promise?"

"Promise." I led her into one of the exam cubicles, which were curtained off and had Silencing Charms over them so it was confidential. I summoned the necessary potions and bandages, water and a sponge. I gave her an exam wrap for her bottom half and then turned my back while she skinned out of her ripped jeans and put it on. It left her legs bare, which was what I wanted, so I could treat her scraped knees easily.

I helped her up on the little table and said, trying to sound like my mother, "Now, if you don't bite or kick me, you'll get to give Gaby a treat, Shelby."

She giggled. "I'd never do that, Severus."

"Good. Because I'd rather not have to tell my mum that I got beat up by a girl," I teased, and then I started to carefully wash out the cuts.

She whimpered but didn't pull away or holler when I cleaned the scrapes out, first with water and then an antibacterial solution.

"That's it. Almost done." I smeared a Quick Healing Salve on her cuts and bandaged them. "They'll be all healed by tonight."

I summoned a handkerchief so she could wipe her eyes, then she put her jeans back on and said, "Why do they pick on me so much? I don't do nothin' to them."

Her plaintive question made me have flashbacks to my own miserable schooldays, when I had wondered the same thing. "Because they're bored little brats who need a good hiding. Don't let them get you down."

"Thanks, Severus. I'll try." She gave me a brief grin and skipped out the door, waving once.

It was shortly after that incident occurred that my mother signed up to work for Magical Law Enforcement as an Eyes and Ears pair. She didn't really want me involved in it, but I said it would be much easier if we both kept our ears to the ground. And so we became a team, gathering information and rumors to help the resistance. It wasn't all that hard, considering that most of our customers liked to talk, and talk a lot, about everything.

We gathered plenty of rumors and several important bits of information that way. A few of our customers were associated with the Death Eaters, or friends with them, like Narcissa Malfoy, Trisha Goyle, and Marcus Rookwood. Narcissa, a former Housemate of mine, I made sure I remained upon friendly terms with, and often asked her casually how Lucius was. Sometimes she would reveal something like he had a meeting scheduled for later this afternoon or needed specific potions, some of which were on the shady side, and it was then I could figure out that there would be some kind of raid going on and so report it.

Trisha was like a fountain, she told my mother, whom she liked, since Mum helped her with her difficult pregnancy, things as if she'd been given a Babbling Beverage. Mum found out plans for raids and the fact that the Death Eaters were trying to create some kind of magical contraption that would kill off the Minister and all of his staff only it kept blowing up. We didn't know what it was called, Trisha referred to it as The Experiment, but that didn't matter. The Ministry could send in their own spies to infiltrate them.

It's amazing what people will say if they think you're busy rearranging a shelf or dusting, I discovered many things just by being nearby when two of the Death Eater wives got together and chatted over the price of powdered asphodel. I became invisible, a part of the furniture, like their house elves.

The men who supported the dark side were more discreet, probably because Voldemort would curse them if they weren't, but even they slipped occasionally, and spoke of times and I could always tell what they were planning to brew by the potion ingredients they purchased alone. Or they would ask about a particular potion's effects, and how well it reacted with another one. Based on what they asked, I could surmise that they might be trying to torture someone or extract information out of someone using potions, since the Cruciatus was not a spell everyone could cast, it was a master level spell, and required a great deal of power to use and one just didn't fling it all over. (That bit I picked up when Lucius and Mulciber were talking one day over by the self-refilling cauldrons).

I learned how to read lips quickly, and to memorize a conversation upon hearing it once, because I couldn't just pull out a quill and parchment and start scribbling every time I heard something useful. The trick was to listen without seeming to listen at all. And on my forays into Diagon Alley, I watched who met with whom, and if they headed into Knockturn Alley to Borgin and Burkes, a dealer who dealt in shady items. Under cover of walking my dog, I saw much.

We sent the information we gathered in coded letters to our contact in the DML, who went by the name of Odin. My mother signed her letters Valkyrie, and I was Loki. The system we used was one invented by my mother, since the old code was broken by Voldemort's spies. It worked great.

June 21, 1993:

". . .and that was how your gran and I helped during the First Wizard War. " I concluded. There was more to the story, but it wasn't something I wished to go into on my mother's birthday, and not with Harry there.

Soon we headed back home and later on that night, I continued writing in my journal.

Snape's Journal

August 27, 1979:

One afternoon, the shop was doing a brisk business and I had spotted Avery and Lestrange in a corner, whispering. I was trying to slowly make my way nearer, to see what they were whispering about, since they had their faces turned from me and I could not read their lips, when I heard a familiar voice say loudly, "Why do you want to shop in here, Lily? You know who owns this shop, don't you?"

Potter! I felt a slow flush of anger. How dare he sneer at my mother's establishment, the bloody punter!

"That doesn't matter. I have nothing against Eileen, and she stocks better herbs and ingredients than Slug and Jiggers and brews better quality potions too."

Lily! I felt my heart skip a beat. I had not heard her voice in so long. I smirked inwardly at her assessment. Of course we brewed better potions! Arnold Jigger was going senile and could barely see, and his son was lazy berk who couldn't brew a simple Boil Cure to full potency.

"Lily, I don't like you shopping here. . ." began Potter, with that supercilious tone that set my teeth on edge.

"James, don't tell me what to do. Just let me shop for my ingredients and go buy that broom at the Quidditch store." Lily said exasperatedly. She pushed open the door to the shop and said, "Have fun, I'll see you later, dear."

I grimaced at the familiar address. But I stopped stacking vials of Headache Remedy and turned to see Lily enter. She looked much the same, still as beautiful as ever, and longing flooded me. How I wish things had been different.

Lily was wearing a sea green robe that brought out the vivid green of her eyes. I couldn't help but feel a sliver of satisfaction because the dream couple didn't seem to be getting along as well as they should. Potter was as overbearing as ever. I might have felt sorry for Lily if it wasn't for the fact that she had chosen to be with Potter, and she now must reap what she sowed.

But I watched as she made her way over to my bunches of dried lavender and marjoram and began placing them in a shopping basket. I forced myself to turn away. I wouldn't go over there. I wouldn't open old wounds. I turned and rang up a customer, then shot another glance at Lily. Why couldn't I let her go? She belonged to Potter now. She was lost to me.

But there was someone else in the shop that did not agree with that, and who still recalled the little girl who used to play with him. Gabriel had been dozing behind the counter, away from people who might trip or step on him. But he woke and sniffed the air soon after Lily came, and somehow he scented her, don't ask me how. My collie bounded to his feet and gave a soft woof of welcome.

"Gabriel!" I hissed, and made a grab for his collar.

He was too quick. He trotted out from behind the counter and wriggled his furry bulk through the aisles. His plumed tail wagging, he crept up beside Lily and nudged her beneath the arm.

"Oh!" She looked down. Then she knelt and hugged my dog. "Gaby!"

Gabriel licked her cheek, his mouth opening in a collie smile.

Unable to help myself, I drifted closer.

Lily buried her face in Gabe's ruff and I heard her say, "I missed you so much!"

I slipped behind a rack of jars and watched the reunion between my former best friend and my collie. Despite the resentment bubbling within me, I couldn't help but wax nostalgic for days gone by. I stood there, watching Lily's slender hands petting Gabriel's red-gold coat, not making a sound.

But somehow she knew I was there, for she looked up and saw me.

"Sev."

"Lily."

She stood up, her hand still on Gabe's elegant head. "I . . .It's good to see you again."

"Is it?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. "I'm surprised you're even speaking to me without asking Potter's approval."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not answerable to James for everything, Severus."

"Only some things, right?" I drawled, my own eyes snapping black fire. "Like cutting all ties to your damned Slytherin friend."

"I didn't. You did."

"Me? When? It was you who did the leaving." I pointed out. "To go run off and play house with the glorious Gryffindor Potter!"

"You don't understand."

"Damn right I don't!"

She darted a glance at my arm. My left arm. "You were going dark, Severus."

Furious, I yanked up the sleeve of my robe. "Take a good look!"

The pale unblemished skin of the underside of my left forearm showed in stark contrast to my black sleeve.

Slowly, she raised her gaze and her eyes met mine. They were stricken. "I . . .all this time . . .I thought . . ."

"You thought wrong, Evans." I said coldly. "Or is it Potter now? I'd heard you were engaged."

She nodded. "Only just. Sev, I'm sorry—"

I turned away. "Don't. You made your choice. Now you can live with it."

She reached out and touched my shoulder. "Please, Sev. Don't be like this."

"Like what?" I muttered. "Angry? Upset? Betrayed?"

"I didn't know!"

"And you never bothered to find out. If it weren't for Gabriel, I might have been tempted down the dark road. But he saved me."

She shook her head. "You know, you're impossible to talk to when you're like this. "

I snorted. "What's done is done, Lily. Whatever might have been between us is over." I cringed inwardly as I said those words, but my heart was bitter and hurting.

"Why? Why does it have to be over?" she cried.

I spun on her. "Because you're going to be Potter's wife, that's why! Or are you saying you're going to throw over Potter for me?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

"Severus, I think I'm pregnant," she whispered.

"Congratulations. Potter must be thrilled." I said through gritted teeth.

"He is."

"Do you . . .love him?" I don't know why I even asked that, except maybe to punish myself for being such a bugger to her.

She nodded.

I felt the last hope within me wither and die. "Well, then." I put on my stoic mask. "I hope you find everything you need. Good day." With that, I spun on my heel and made my way towards the corner where I had originally seen the Death Eaters.

But they were gone, and I cursed myself for a fool. I had missed a prime opportunity to listen in on what may have been an important conversation. It was something I would end up regretting deeply.

A week later, some shops mysteriously caught fire in Diagon Alley, and burned to the ground, some with their owners still inside them, since many lived above them. It was a horrible tragedy. No one had seen who set the fire, but those who lost their shops and lives in that blaze had all been known supporters of the Light.

One of those was Shelby Wynters. She had been staying over her grandfather's and had died of smoke inhalation. I can still see her little freckled face in my mind and I couldn't help but feel guilty. If I hadn't gone to talk to Lily, if I had continued to observe LeStrange and Avery, maybe I could have learned of their plans and no fire would have been set. But now was too late for regrets. Poor Shelby would never grow up and go off to Hogwarts, or even see her tenth birthday.

As I stood over her freshly turned grave I whispered, "Forgive me, Shelby. " I laid a bouquet of yellow roses upon the grave . "May angels sing you to your rest."

Then I turned away, guilt sitting heavy as a mountain upon my chest. Why did the innocent always die first?