Harry drew in a sharp breath. "You were friends? With my Mum?"

Snape nodded again, and Harry, hardly daring to hope, could feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest. "I was."

Severus watched the play of emotions over Harry's face, and thought for the first time about how unfair it was that the boy had never had a chance to know his mother. Lily had been a beautiful person, not just fair of face, but full of life and joy and . . .

And the boy was speaking. Severus gave him his attention in time to hear the end of his request, ". . . me about her?"

For a long moment, Severus stared at Harry, his heart in his throat, almost literally. How could he have thought this was a good idea? His own emotions were a mess; it had been years, many years, since he had so devotedly thought about Lily, her life and her death, and about their friendship, about how much he loved her, even after it was clear she no longer wanted him near her.

How could he explain any of that to a child? To this child?

And yet . . . and yet the boy was gazing up at him with such hope in his eyes that it took Severus' breath away.

"We were friends," he said at last. Then he cleared his throat, embarrassed at the thickness of his voice. He looked away, in the direction of far off Spinner's End, and the neighborhood park where he had first seen his first -- and only -- love. "We knew each other even before we went to Hogwarts. I met her . . . on a playground near where we both lived."

"Really?" Harry's voice was breathless, his eyes wide, as if Severus was imparting unto him the secrets of the universe. In a way, he supposed, he was.

He managed a sardonic smile. "Really. Do you imagine I would lie about such a thing?"

The boy's already pink cheeks darkened to a deeper red as he looked down. "No! No, sir. Sorry. I just . . . I never thought . . ."

"That your old professor was once a child like yourself?" His smile deepened. "You would be amazed, Mr. Potter, how much you and I are alike." And in that moment, he realized exactly how true his statement was. The truth of it rocked his foundations once again, and he had to shake himself bodily, to recall where he was in place and time. The cemetery. Lily's gravesite.

"We . . . we are?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Would you like to hear how, or would you rather I spoke more of your mother?" He knew which the boy would choose, and thus was safe from questions about himself.

"My Mum, please. Please, sir."

Severus nodded, his gaze once more on the gravestone. On her name. On the date she died. Ah, Merlin. How was he going to do this? "Your mother was Muggleborn. You know what that means, correct?"

"That both her parents were Muggles. Right?"

"Indeed. And so she had no idea she was a Witch. Until I told her."

"Like me and Hagrid."

"Just so." That it had fallen to Hagrid to inform the Brat Who Lived to Bring Back Memories that he was a Wizard was one of many of the failings of Dumbledore's grand plan for the boy's upbringing. Another, of course, was leaving him with Petunia Evans in the first place. Severus sighed. "I saw her in that Muggle playground, as I said, and saw definite signs of magic in her. From the way she could reach amazing heights on the swings, then almost fly as she jumped off them, to the way she all but glowed with power. In time, I made myself known to her and her sister--"

"Aunt Petunia." The words were so soft, that Severus almost did not recognize the disgusted tone that accompanied them. Interesting. From their previous discussions -- and Harry's earlier essay about rules -- he had not gotten the impression that the boy regarded her with so much animosity, despite having all the reasons in the world to do so. Perhaps now he felt safe enough to show his true feelings. An interesting development, if so.

"Yes. She was there as well. Before Lily went to Hogwarts, she was as enthralled with the idea of magic as your mother was. She even wanted to go to Hogwarts herself. Her attitude changed in time, obviously."

The boy snorted derisively.

Severus nodded. "As you well know," he agreed. "When I first told her, Lily did not believe she was a Witch, but after a while, after several incidents of accidental magic, she had no choice but to. And then she sought me out." He knew his expression had turned wistful, and did not bother to try and hide it. The boy's expression matched his own, anyway, the two of them joined in their recollections -- or lack thereof -- of the woman who had meant so much to each of them. Smiling slightly, Severus continued, "We became friends. I told her what I knew of the Wizarding world, what I had learned from my own mother, and together we looked forward to getting our letters."

Harry's forehead creased in puzzlement as he peered into Severus' face. What he saw there, Severus could not have said. "What happened?"

With another nod for the boy's perceptiveness, Severus said, "I was sorted into Slytherin, and she was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Like my father."

"Yes." Severus swallowed down the taste of his misery and went on. "For several years, we remained friends, or as friendly as we could be, given House rivalries at the time. She enjoyed Potions almost as much as I did, and we even experimented a few times in making potions of our own design. She excelled in Charms, and we often worked on joint projects. Much like you and your Miss Granger, we spent a lot of time in the library together."

Severus paused, considered his words carefully, then said in a much lower tone, "But I had friends in Slytherin whom she did not approve of, and she had ones in Gryffindor I could not abide. Eventually, inevitably, we parted ways." The memory of that day at the end of fifth year, the day he had irrevocably lost her trust with one word, was enough to make his chest tighten and his eyes moisten with ashamed tears, even now. The look on Lily's face when he had called her that filthy word was the worst sight he had ever seen in his whole life. She had jumped to his defense, when Potter and Black were having their fun at his expense, and he had spurned her forever. His betrayal still hurt and always would, he knew. And he deserved every sharp pain it caused him.

I'm sorry, Lily. Truly.

Finally, once he gathered his courage, he went on, knowing he needed to say this last thing, to her son, so he would know. So someone besides Dumbledore would know. "Despite that, I always cared for her. Always."

Surprisingly, Harry asked no more questions about their relationship. His own eyes bright with unshed tears, he simply said, "Thank you, sir."

Severus ran a gloved hand over the top of the gravestone, and took a cleansing breath, to get his emotions under control once more. "You are welcome, Harry."

The boy said nothing about the familiarity, and Severus was glad. If things had been different . . . No. He would not dwell on might-have-beens. He knew better than to indulge in foolish fantasies like that.

"What did she look like?" Harry asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

Severus gave the boy a piercing stare. "You have no pictures of her?" Surely Petunia could not hate her sister that much?

But Harry shook his head. "No, sir. None." He paused, bit his lip, then seemed to decide something. "Not of my Dad, either. But he's got a picture of him in the trophy room."

Ah, yes, the Quidditch star. Severus forbore to say anything derogatory, however, about the man who had made much of his seven years at Hogwarts a living hell, as this was neither the place nor time for such pettiness. And it was petty, he knew, to dwell on such injuries to his pride after so many years. But then, he was a bitter and petty man, in many ways. He had accepted that about himself a long time ago. More recently, of course, he had accepted that he was a bully, too, but he was working to change that, firstly with this boy in front of him.

"I . . . I have some pictures of your mother," he admitted slowly. That was one way he could make up for the wrongs he had done. "I would be willing to show them to you."

The joy that shone in Harry's eyes and made his whole face glow was something Severus had never thought to see in his lifetime. "Really? Oh, thank you, sir!"

Embarrassed by this display, Severus nodded curtly. "It's time to go back," he said. "I have work to do. As do you, if I am not mistaken."

Harry nodded, then sighed a little and crouched in front of the gravestone, where he traced his gloved fingers along the engraved letters that spelt his parents' names. Once again, Severus had to look away, lest his emotions overcome him. It had been ten years. Surely he should be over this by now.

When the boy stood, finally, Severus motioned for him to head back to the woods, where they would take the portkey he had prepared for their return trip. Lost in his own thoughts, he did not hear Harry's question, until the boy said, a little more loudly, "Sir?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"I asked if my parents lived around here? I mean, I thought I saw other buildings outside the churchyard."

"Yes, they lived in Godric's Hollow, the town which surrounds this church. It's a primarily Wizard town, and many renowned families live here, or used to."

"Like who, sir?"

"The Dumbledores lived here for a time. And Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic," he smirked down at the boy, "which you are obviously familiar with. Or should be."

Harry laughed. "Yes, sir. Anyone else?"

"Think about it. Godric's Hollow."

"Oh! Godric Gryffindor?"

"Indeed."

"Wow."

Severus snorted a laugh. "Indeed."

It took them only a few minutes more to reach the spot from where they would portkey, and this time, Severus made a point of telling Harry he would hold his arm to make sure he didn't fall at the other end of their journey. He did not want a repeat of the scare he had given the boy when they had arrived here. He understood the cause, of course, but did not want to exacerbate the situation. Harry's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, but Severus pretended not to notice.

The return trip was uneventful, and they landed in Severus' office a moment later.

"It's nearly lunch time," Severus said. "You should have just enough time to change and make it up to the Great Hall to sit with your year mates."

Harry nodded and started for the door, but he had not gone more than a step or two before he turned back. His eyes were clear and bright. Lily's emerald eyes. "Sir? Thank you, for taking me to . . . to see them."

Severus inclined his head. "You're welcome."

Harry licked his lips, almost avariciously. "About those pictures . . ."

Severus raised an eyebrow, mouth curled in a semblance of a sneer. "I will show them to you when I have received your essay, Potter," he said. When the boy's expression grew crafty, he hastened to add, "But mind this: I will know if you rush through it in order to get your reward, and if you rush . . . then you will have no reward."

Harry's face fell, but he nodded. "I'll do it right," he promised.

"I know you will, Harry." And he did. His previous essay was proof of that. "Go on now. Your nutritional supplement will be awaiting you at lunch, as you did not see fit to eat breakfast."

Harry's eyes grew wide, thinking, no doubt, that Severus had read his mind. But this time, he had not needed to; hearing the boy's stomach rumble hungrily all morning had been quite enough of a clue.

He smiled, giving nothing away. "Go on," he said again, and Harry fled.

Shaking his head slightly, he returned to his quarters and the hidden drawer in his desk where he kept his photographs of Lily. As he went through the small stack, he alternately cursed himself for making the offer to Harry, and cursed the Dark Lord for taking his Lily away. It had been years since he went through these pictures, and each one held a memory, for good or ill.

After an hour or so, he could take the trip through the memories no more, and went to work on his potions, the one thing guaranteed to make him lose himself. Some days, he wished he could lose himself forever.