On the second day of the term, Hogwarts was abuzz with gossip. First, the fifth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin classes couldn’t stop discussing the duel that interrupted potions. At lunch in the Great Hall, Katie Bell told the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team about how the formerly deranged Azkaban escapee barged into the class and Cassiopeia Prewitt moved from her usual spot at the Slytherin table to tell Eloise Chang all about Professor Snape’s quick reflexes. By the end of lunch, the Weasley twins were reenacting the duel on top of the Hufflepuff table until they were scolded and given a week's worth of detention by their Head of House.

However, that was not the end of the day's events. Shortly after lunch, Snape was seen strutting out of the hospital wing, more furious than the students had ever seen him. Ernie McMillan got a glimpse inside of the infirmary as he was leaving and could’ve sworn that he saw all of the Professors in there and a strange woman with bright pink hair. As Snape made his way through Hogwarts, he took points from two Slytherin seventh years for snogging in the hallway, Neville Longbottom for dropping his books, and a poor first year who accidentally stepped out in front of the professor. The Ravenclaw was so startled that he promptly burst into tears. By the end of Snape’s walk from the hospital wing to his classroom, all of the house hourglasses were back to zero points.

That was still not the strangest thing that happened that day, however. When the third years showed up after lunch for their class, Professor Snape never appeared. They stood outside the classroom for a good twenty minutes before a muggle-born piped in, “My sister in Uni says that if the professor doesn’t show after fifteen minutes class is canceled.” Everyone looked around, thinking that it sounded like a great idea and hoping that was the case, but was too terrified of the dungeon bat to actually leave. Eventually, they found themselves sitting on the floor until it was time to go to the next class. When the professor's seventh-year NEWT students showed up, however, he still wasn’t there. They all looked at each other in shock. For the entirety of their time at Hogwarts, not a single one of them could remember an instance where Snape didn’t come to class. In fact, he was the only Professor who never missed a class in his entire tenure. Much to the dismay of all the students, he never got sick, never took a vacation, never had to go check on family. This of course only further propagated the rumors that he was a vampire.

The student body was convinced that there was something going on at Hogwarts. A few of the cleverer students deduced that Harry Potter was absent at dinner last night and from his classes and meals all day; therefore, he must be involved somehow. However, even the brightest of them all never would’ve guessed the truth. Rowena Ravenclaw herself couldn’t have figured it out. One thing was for certain though, it was not going to be a quiet year at Hogwarts.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

Snape threw open the door to his chambers and slammed it shut with a solid thud behind him. He leaned against the door, letting his head fall back against it before slowly sliding to the floor, the vial of memories clutched in his hand. “Lily,” he breathed reverently. His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he thought back to one of the conversations he had with her during their final year at school, at least of those that he could currently remember.

“Severus,” Lily said, looking up at him from where she rested her head in his lap. It was autumn in Scotland and they wanted to take advantage of the weather before it got colder, so they decided to study outside. Fall was always his favorite time of year, it meant he could go back to Hogwarts and escape his father’s house and it reminded him of Lily. Her auburn hair perfectly matched the falling leaves and emphasized her wide green eyes. Not to mention, he could use the cold as an excuse to sit closer to her, not that he needed one these days.

“What Lils?” he asked, staring down at her, a half-smile gracing his lips.

“Do you want kids someday?” she asked, her expression serious. He knew that she did. She always talked about having children and a big family. He knew she wanted multiple so that they would never feel alone like how she felt. She took Tuney’s hatred of her harshly; they had been close growing up and she looked up to her big sister, but that all changed when she was accepted to Hogwarts. Petunia couldn’t handle her jealousy and let it fester into a deep resentment that Lily never got over.

“I don’t know,” he answered hesitantly with a gulp. “I don’t think I would know how to be a father,” his voice was so quiet, he was shocked she could hear his statement over the rustling of the leaves.

“You’d be a great father,” she replied, her eyes bright. “We’d be great parents.”

It was the only time she was wrong; he wasn’t a great father. He couldn’t even remember being married to her, let alone having a child with her. A child that he’d abandoned to grow up abused, worse than he ever was. At least he had his mother for sanctuary. Pott- no Harry, he corrected had no one. To make matters worse, he mocked, bullied, and belittled the boy from the moment he stepped foot inside the castle. Fuck, he thought to himself. He was no better than Potter senior. In fact, he was worse than James; he was an adult, a professor who took a boyhood grudge out on an innocent child.

He allowed his tears to finally fall, crying for the first time since October, 31st 1981 when Albus informed him that she was dead. They had a child together. Yet he couldn’t remember any of it. All thanks to Albus fucking Dumbledore. He sat up suddenly and stalked to his bookshelf, anger replacing the regret he had felt just moments before. He took one of the glass tumblers he stored there and threw it against the stone wall where it shattered into a million pieces. It did nothing to assuage his grief and fury, he only felt even more irate, at Dumbledore, the mutt, the Dursleys, and most of all himself. With a cry of anguish, he threw glass after glass until none were left. He then took the bottle of fire whiskey he had sitting there and was about to throw it when his hand stalled. Taking one look at the bottle, he decided that there was a better use for the 50-year-old whiskey and took a long drink straight from the bottle before proceeding to destroy every other breakable item within his reach.

Finally, twenty minutes later, the floor was covered in glass, and every fragile item in his apartment was shattered. He clutched the now half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey and drunkenly stumbled over to the couch, a worn photo album in his hands. Sometime in his drunken rage, he had discovered it hidden away in his bookshelf, behind his old history of magic textbooks he never read. Locks of black hair falling in his face, he looked down at his lap as he flipped open the first page and saw the picture there. The one he had avoided for thirteen years. It was a muggle photograph, faded into sepia colors the way all photos from the 70s were. Through the muted color though, he could still see her flame-red hair and vivid green eyes as if it were yesterday. The picture was taken not long after they had met, they must have been about ten at the time. He was never happier than when he was with her. For the first time, there was someone in his neighborhood who wasn’t scared of him and his sullenness. Even in that muggle neighborhood, there were rumors that he was a vampire with his pale skin and dark hair. Lily was different though, she didn’t see him as a peculiar loner, she saw him as a friend.

He choked on a strangled noise that was half sob, half laugh as he thought of their friendship and subsequent romance. In his mind that conversation in the autumn of their seventh year was one of the last they’d had. They broke up not long after; it was too dangerous for him, a Slytherin, to be dating a muggle-born. One day, a hex from one of his classmates went wrong and she landed in the infirmary taking skelegro to repair a broken leg, so he ended things for her protection. He grasped the vial of memories in his hand as he flipped through their years at Hogwarts, finally making it up to their graduation when a letter slipped out.

On it was his name in Lily's handwriting. The S and v were formed with elegant cursive loops he never thought he’d see again. What was more shocking though was the picture behind the letter. He was in black dress robes and she wore a simple, but elegant white dress with cap sleeves and lace detail around the neckline. He’d never seen himself look so happy.

Hello love,

I hope you find this letter sooner rather than later, if not I fear the implications. We both agreed to a rather asinine plot cooked up by our former Headmaster and I worry that it may not go according to plan. In a move more befitting of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin, you consented to serve as a spy for the Order. Dumbledore thinks that having inside knowledge of Voldemort's plans will bring the war to an end within the year, but I have my doubts-it sounds too easy to be true. You were the only one with the capabilities and opportunity to play that role because of your skill in Occlumency and acquaintance with Lucius. However, to protect our family we both had our memories of each other removed and James is going to pretend to be Harry’s father and my husband.

I know, I know, you need not tell me that you do not trust James as far as you could throw him (and given your poor athletic abilities, that's not very far. Sorry, but you know I’m right). He loves me though and would do anything to protect me and Harry, so he’s the best shot we have. I’m writing this letter because while you do not trust James, I do not trust Albus. He will be in possession of our memories. You’ll probably tell me that I have nothing to worry about, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. So if you discover this letter, you must find Albus and force him to restore your memories. If you’re reading this, then I am most likely dead, in which case you must take care of Harry. Under no circumstances can he be sent to my sister. You know how Tuney is, when I started Hogwarts she turned vindictive and mean. I can only imagine how she would treat our son.

Hopefully, this will all come to naught and we’ll stumble upon this letter while Harry is at school and have a good laugh at it. I’m watching him sleep as I write this. He really is perfect Sev, and you both have made me so unfathomably happy. It has been such an honor to watch you become a father, I always knew you’d be a good one. If for some reason this is my last letter to you, please know that you have brought immeasurable joy to my life, and I could not imagine walking through this world without you. Wiser men have written far prettier words than I, so to paraphrase Shakespeare, my love for you and Harry is as boundless and deep as the sea, and so in return is the love I receive.

I truly hope my fears will be nothing more than irrational worry, but if that is not the case, know that you have made my life complete. I know you will take good care of our son. Show him every day how dearly loved he is.

All my love,

Lily

Severus read and reread the letter until he could no longer see past the tears that blurred his vision. She’d put it in their album, a place that she knew Severus only looked at when he was in deep turmoil. It was always a place where he sought her guidance. But after she died, he just couldn’t bring himself to look at it. He mourned for the life that he, Lily, and Harry would never have. She should’ve been there to see him off on the Hogwarts Express, meet his friends (she would’ve loved Granger), and talk to him about his first crush. But, she never would. If only he opened that cursed album earlier, then he could’ve at least gotten Harry away from the Dursleys.

He took another swig of Fire Whiskey as he thought of how all of this could’ve been avoided. What was he thinking, agreeing to spy? Lily would still be alive and Harry wouldn't have gone to the Dursleys. He finished off the rest of the Whiskey before throwing the bottle against the mantle. This was all his fault. Now it was up to him to make it right and there was only one way to do that. He took the vial of memories delicately from his pocket. He uncorked it, lifted the wand and let the translucent strands flow to his temple. He felt a headache start as the memories merged in his hippocampus, so he flopped onto the couch and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Severus woke with a groan from where he was lying face down on the couch. The pounding in his head was accentuated by someone banging at his door. He blinked his dry eyes open, trying to remember why exactly he fell asleep in such an uncomfortable position and darted upright as the memories of the past few days and old memories of years prior flooded through him. His headache only worsened as he heard someone calling his name. He definitely regretted finishing that bottle of Fire Whiskey last night. Staggering to his feet, he pushed his long hair out of his face as he went to answer the door.

“What?” he demanded, throwing the door open with a crash, his scowl deepening when he saw the wolf was the one waking him up.

“Its Harry,” Lupin told him frantically. It was then that Severus noticed his appearance. He looked as bad as Severus felt; his clothes were disheveled and eyes panicked. His next words, though, caused Severus' heart to fall into the pit of his stomach, “He’s missing.”