I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.

I'm not entirely sure if this can be classified as angst, but that's the closest genre that I felt represented this story. I've also taken some elements from the books and some elements from the movies.

Dedicated to Alan Rickman, who passed away on January 14th. Thank you for being our Severus Snape. We will remember you. Always.

The Reluctant Protector

The shadows flickered on the walls, dancing with the rhythm of the flames flickering in the ancient fireplace. Sitting in the armchair situated directly across from where the fire was roaring, Severus Snape stared blankly ahead.

Dead…she's dead…

Gritting his teeth, Snape tried to shove back his torturous thoughts, but not even the greatest Occlumens could protect their mind from themselves.

And it's all your fault.

With a snarl, he lifted his wine glass and hurtled it into the fire. The flames surged upwards for a brief moment before settling down, and Snape felt another sharp pang to his heart when the orange-yellow fire turned a vibrant red for a split second.

Almost as red as Lily's hair had been…

Burrowing his face into his trembling hands, he whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry Lily, I didn't know. I'm so sorry…"

And here began his lifetime pledge to redeem himself in the eyes of Lily Evans and avenge her death. He had made her a promise that he would protect her son, though he could not fathom what that would entail.

But he did know one thing. He had vowed to protect not just Lily's son, but James Potter's son as well, and that alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. And though it detested him to remember that awful night, Potter had saved his life, and as much as Snape wished otherwise, he owed his deceased rival a debt.

By protecting Harry Potter when he arrived at Hogwarts for his first year, perhaps Snape would finally settle the debt and continue to hate James Potter in peace.

Then, everything he did, would be dedicated to Lily.

…

He was practically a carbon-copy of his father.

As the first-years spilled into the Great Hall, Snape's eyes immediately fell onto the much-talked about Harry Potter. He felt a surge of resentment as he scrutinized the skinny, raven-haired boy who sported round glasses that were identical to his father's.

Perhaps this was karma, or fate's way of taunting him. It was as if Snape himself was once more in his first year of Hogwarts and was in his first encounter with the one who would become his archrival.

The boy turned his head slightly and Snape felt his heart jolt at the emerald green eyes that peered around in awe. He looked like James, but his eyes were all Lily.

He was truly the child of both Lily and James, and that perhaps was what sickened Snape the most-a daily mocking of what he could have had, and what he lost with the woman he loved.

…

After the first class with Potter, Snape's opinion only soured further. The boy was exactly like his father-mediocre at magic, arrogant attitude, he relished attention and cared less about the rules or the consequences involved in breaking them.

As much as he tried to impress these great flaws upon Dumbledore, the esteemed Headmaster would not listen. As far as he, or any other professor for that matter, was concerned, Harry Potter was a likable child with innate curiosity. What was worse, the insufferable child had been allowed on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Seeker after breaking Madam Hooch's strict 'no flying without a supervisor' rule.

Of course he escapes punishment, thought Snape darkly as he sat stiffly in the Quidditch stands. It was Gryffindor against Slytherin, and he hoped that his Snakes would dominate the game, for it would surely knock the privileged Potter off of his pedestal.

In the middle of the match, Snape caught sight of some of the students starting to point upwards. He followed their gestures and watched as Potter's broomstick jerked and bucked wildly. His brow creased as one particular violent lurch sent the boy flying from his broomstick, so that he dangled dangerously far above the ground, clinging to the handle with one hand.

Quirrell.

He knew instantly who was jinxing Potter's broomstick. Quirrell's actions had been nothing less than suspicious since the year started and the man was seated behind him somewhere. Snape quickly started to mutter the counter-jinx under his breath, eyes fixed on the helpless Potter.

His efforts allowed the broom to still for a brief moment, allowing Potter to swing up his other hand and get a more secure grip on his handle. But it wasn't long before the jerking continued and it was all he could do to keep it under control.

"Hey!" exclaimed Sinistra, abruptly standing up and pointing downwards. "You're on fire!"

That remark certainly warranted his attention, and so he tore his eyes away from Potter and stared at the hem of his robes, which were aflame. He shot to his feet and frantically started stamping on the fire. He could make out Quirrell's startled cry as he was knocked backwards by some of the other spectators abruptly standing up, attempting to see where the smoke was coming from.

When the fire was put out, Snape settled back in his seat, slightly flustered. He looked up to see Potter clambering onto his broomstick and making a beeline for the Snitch, which he ended up catching in his mouth.

Typical, he scoffed mentally. Of course the boy's first win has to be some grand display.

As everyone erupted into cheering, Snape finally glanced behind him, but Quirrell was already gone, scuttling down the stands with his head ducked to the ground. The Potions professor turned his gaze to Dumbledore, who gave a slight incline of his head, which Snape understood to mean 'meet me in my office at once'.

Smoothing out his robes, Snape stood and joined the line of people making their way to the lawn. He spared a brief, disinterested glance at the celebrating Gryffindor team, who were slapping an exuberant Harry Potter on the back.

There you are, Potter, thought Snape sneeringly of his rival. Our debt is now settled. Everything I do from here on out is not for you nor your son. It will always be for Lily.

His conscious had cleared up some-he could now despise and hate James Potter without the hindrance of the knowledge that James had saved his life, and had died before the life-debt could be fulfilled.

…

Snape groaned softly, a dull ache running through his head. He slowly sat up and found himself tangled in ratted, dusty bed hangings. The events of the night burst through him and absolute fury tore through his body.

"Potter! Black!"

But neither were there, nor were Potter's cohorts in crime or Lupin. He was alone in the Shrieking Shack.

He got to his feet and rushed from the building. His mind whirled with vengeful thoughts, the manners of torture and payback he would use on the one who betrayed Lily and got her killed.

Rather hypocritical, isn't it?

His hatred allowed him to ignore the reasonable argument his mind tried to offer. He plowed out into the night air, managing to avoid the swiping branches of the Whomping Willow, and strode purposefully across the grounds. His eyes immediately zeroed in on three familiar figures standing still.

"There you are, Potter," he snarled. He reached out and grabbed the front of Potter's robes. His arrival caused the three teens to stare at him and he did not miss the terror in their gazes-extraordinary terror, in fact.

His momentary confusion (for none of them had ever been this frightened of him) was dispelled when a vicious howl came from just behind him. He whirled around to see werewolf Lupin advancing upon them, teeth glinting in the light of the full moon.

In his overwhelming desire for revenge on his school day captor, he had forgotten this most crucial fact, and it seemed they would all pay the price.

It was automatic, the way he thrust his arms out and forcefully shoved the three teens behind him. Lupin reared back and clawed at them, knocking the four to the ground. He could feel Granger's hands tighten on his shoulders to keep him from slamming his head into a nearby rock.

He stared up at the looming Lupin, posture tense and apprehensive. Death was not something he was necessarily afraid of-at least then the pain would stop, and he would be with Lily again. But that promise he made bound him to the living world, and somehow he needed to stay alive until Voldemort was vanquished in order to fulfill it.

His lifelong commitment aside, he was a professor, and there were three defenseless teens that needed protection. Their mutual feelings aside, he had a duty to perform.

A large black ball of fur hurtled forwards and knocked Lupin backwards before Snape could do anything. With an angry roar Lupin pursued Black into the distance. Eyes wide, Potter bellowed, "Sirius!" and raced after them.

"Potter, come back here!" commanded Snape, though he knew it would do no good. The boy was just like his father that way-neither of them ever listened to anyone.

Granger frantically started after her friend. Grabbing her arms, Snape forcefully pulled her back. "He's going to get himself killed!" she cried tearfully.

"And yet he never does, does he?" returned Snape. He pushed the girl towards the injured Weasley and ordered, "Get back to the castle and see Madam Pomfrey immediately."

Weasley's lips parted, no doubt to protest, but Granger seemed to realize they had crossed enough lines for one evening. Wrapping her arms tightly around the ginger, she helped him balance himself and muttered, "Let's go. Harry will be fine."

The two made their way towards the castle. Once he was satisfied they were a decent distance away, Snape strode in the direction Potter had disappeared. The air was now silent and a flare of unease went through him.

If Lupin got Potter, Lily will never forgive me for letting him run off…

He arrived at the lake and spotted two prone figures on the ground. He strode up, ignoring Black completely, and pressed two fingers against Potter's neck. The beating pulse under his fingertips resulted in a swirl of mixed emotions for Snape, and he could not deny the sliver of relief, as much as it annoyed him.

Straightening, Snape pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and gave it a wave. Potter and Black were levitated onto cots and he started for the castle, a dark smile flitting across his face.

It had taken many years, but perhaps now was finally his opportunity to seek his revenge against his childhood tormentor.

Whether or not Black was innocent, as Potter had been bleating, was inconsequential.

…

Voldemort was back.

Striding down the corridors of the castle, Snape could feel his Dark Mark tingling. His lips were set in a thin, grim line as he made his way to the front entrance. The day had finally come, the one Dumbledore had been so certain about. The suspicious activity surrounding Bartemius Crouch and the Triwizard Tournament was now crystal clear.

The evening air was cooler than it should have been for a summer's night. Snape paused on the stone steps and stared off into the horizon. He was lingering, he knew, and enough time had passed for Voldemort to expect him soon.

He lifted his face to the sky, staring at the stars and finding the one he had deemed Lily's, and whispered, "Please help me be strong, like you've always been."

Because now that Voldemort had arisen once more, Snape knew the first person on his target list. Voldemort had already tried to kill the boy twice, and that was without his physical form. The fact that Potter had escaped the graveyard was a miracle in itself and that would only serve to ignite Voldemort's anger.

Snape would need all the strength he could muster to play the part of a double-agent. If Voldemort ever discovered his treachery, then it was not just Potter's life he would need to concern himself with-it was his own, as well.

…

That foolish, foolish boy!

Snape stormed through the Forbidden Forest, wand held above his head so he could light the way. He should have known something like this would happen. Ever since he discovered Potter had been dreaming of the Department of Mysteries, he grew steadily wary of what the dreams might mean. Of course the boy would not take the Occlumency lessons seriously. It's what Snape had expected, and he had not been disappointed.

So here he was, searching the expansive Forest in what he believed to be a useless endeavor. After witnessing Potter and Granger enter the Forest with Umbridge, he knew they had some sort of stupid plan in mind. After he had ensured that Black had not left Grimmauld Place and the two had not returned, he strode for Umbridge's office to find his suspicions confirmed.

His Slytherins were nowhere in sight, nor were Potter's friends. He knew exactly where the group of teens had gone-they were on a suicide mission to rescue Black from the Department of Mysteries.

After alerting Dumbledore and certain members of the Order, Snape found himself combing the dense Forest, on the off chance that some creature had gotten to the teens before they could make their journey to London, or maybe they had gotten lost.

He could feel the eyes of the centaurs peering at him through the foliage of the trees. It seemed his reputation preceded him, for no centaurs ventured forwards to threaten him out of their territory.

Just like his father, thought Snape derisively. Both Potters would jump at any chance to be the hero, no matter the risks or consequences. It was moments like these where he wondered why he put so much effort into watching over the impertinent, disrespectful Gryffindor.

But then he remembered those eyes…those emerald eyes that could pierce right through him…

"Severus."

Whirling around, Snape stared at the silver, misty phoenix Patronus that hovered just in front of him. Mouth going dry, Snape stood stiffly as he waited for the rest of Dumbledore's message to be delivered.

"Harry and the others are safe. Sirius is dead. We will be returning shortly. Return to the castle."

The Patronus dissolved, silver specks floating in the night air before shimmering out of sight. Snape walked across the forest floor, wand hanging by his side. Odd, really, how he felt no joy at the news that Sirius Black was really dead. But then, he hadn't necessarily felt any joy at James Potter's death either, though he was mostly consumed with grief because of Lily's fate…

Potter is alive, he told himself forcefully, refusing to let these anguished feelings of remorse and guilt overwhelm him in this time of crisis. By whatever forces of luck that seem to surround him, he's alive. My promise has not been broken.

Because a promise to Lily was one he could not bear to break.

…

It was all rather…surreal.

He fled across Hogwarts grounds, Draco Malfoy in tow, the other Death Eaters somewhere in front of them. Malfoy did not seem inclined to leave his housemaster anytime soon. He was white and trembling, and utterly terrified. Dumbledore had been right. The boy's soul was not so lost, and now Snape doubted it would ever be truly in danger. Draco Malfoy could not kill, and that alone would make him useless amongst Voldemort's ranks.

Dumbledore.

The blank expression of the elderly wizard's face as he fell lifeless from the tower was one image Snape was finding difficult to remove from his mind. He had known this time would come…Dumbledore had predicted it, and his predictions tended to come true. But though Dumbledore had asked for Snape to kill him personally, he felt…defeated, in a way.

He had just murdered the wizarding world's most beloved wizard. Never mind the reasons for it, or the complex story behind it, Snape was suddenly finding it hard to justify his actions for the Dark Lord these horrid, terrifying days.

Would Lily understand? Would she know why I must do some unspeakable deeds, for the sake of the betterment of the world? Would she forgive me?

And for over a decade, that had been the question tormenting Snape the most. Had Lily been alive, or even in her death, would she have ever forgiven him for the things he'd done, the things he'd said?

"Professor?"

Malfoy's timid voice, quite unlike him, breached his melancholy thinking. He stared at the teen and pointed ahead, out of the gates, where the other Death Eaters had already Disapparated. "Go to your mother," he ordered. "I will handle Lord Voldemort."

With a hesitant nod, Malfoy hurried out of the gates and Disapparated the second he was off Hogwarts property.

Turning to glance over his shoulder, Snape could see pinpricks of light multiplying over the Dark Mark, beginning to erase it from the night sky. After a moment of staring, he raised his own wand, a whirlwind of indistinguishable emotions churning in his stomach. It was going to be extraordinarily difficult now, finding ways to guide Harry Potter on his journey, a journey he still had little information about. Voldemort would be on the warpath, his bloodlust for Potter as great as ever.

Farewell, Albus Dumbledore. I sincerely hope everything plays out how you expect it to. Say hello to Lily for me.

…

Holding the sword of Gryffindor close to his chest, Snape moved silently amongst the trees, using his Animagus skills to fly above the snow to avoid leaving footprints. He had already glimpsed the campsite Granger had set up, and was now in search of the right place to put Godric Gryffindor's heirloom.

Do not forget it needs to be taken under the conditions of need and valour…

The words from Dumbledore's portrait echoed through his mind and he let out a sharp breath of air, which condensed in the cold.

Blasted Gryffindors, making everything difficult.

But he had a vague plan in mind-it was merely a means of finding what he needed. After a few more minutes of prowling he stumbled upon exactly what he needed-a small pool, frozen over with black ice. Snape set the sword in the middle of the ice and waved his wand in a complicated manner, so that when he was finished the sword was set deep into the ice.

He had no doubts that Potter would dive directly into the frigid water to access the precious item. It fit in with every reckless action the boy had performed since arriving at Hogwarts, so why would he break his father's tendencies now?

Snape retreated to a hiding spot, where he could watch and see if the boy took the bait. A distance away, he whispered, "Expecto patronum!"

A silver doe burst from the tip of his wand, and for a brief, silly moment, he got choked up. Hastily swallowing back his thick emotions, he ordered, "Find Harry Potter and bring him to the sword."

His Patronus departed, and it was a few minutes later when she returned, Potter trailing after her. The doe disappeared and Potter spun around, wand lifted in the air, illuminating the area around him. He spotted the sword lodged within in the ice and spent a long moment staring at it.

Come on, Potter…even you cannot be as dense as to leave it here.

Eventually the teen used his wand to crack the ice. He stripped down to his underwear and plunged without thought into the icy water, exactly as Snape had expected him to do. He would have lingered to see if the boy made it out alive, but he could see Ronald Weasley tearing through the snow towards the pool his friend had just plunged into, and knew the redhead would take care of it.

Snape flew off, not wanting to alert the teen to his presence by Disapparating too closely. As he moved through the frigid winter air, he mused bitterly that the way Harry Potter dove into the pool was very much like James, but he was also hard-pressed to tell himself Lily wouldn't have done the same.

…

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

No…no, that wasn't entirely true. He had always suspected that he would not survive the Second Wizarding War. Considering the position he was in, the position he willingly placed himself in, he would be utterly disillusioned to believe he would not die.

Slumped against the wall of the Shrieking Shack, blood pooling from the hole in his neck, he could feel the venom starting to course through his veins. It was not Death that despaired him-it was merely that it happened too soon. He had not gotten a chance to relay the final, crucial information Potter needed. McGonagall had made sure of that, though he could not find it within himself to blame her for his sudden departure from Hogwarts.

Potter would not be able to destroy the final Horcrux, not unless somehow, by some coincidence, Voldemort did end up killing the boy himself. But considering Potter's track record for escaping and thwarting the Dark Lord, it did not seem likely.

I am sorry, Albus…I have failed.

He did not have the words to apologize to Lily-nothing would be strong enough to convey his feelings. He had made a promise to protect Harry, and yet at the end it did not matter. In order for everyone to live, Harry Potter needed to die, and he doubted that even Lily herself would let her child make that sacrifice.

There was a scuffling sound from the corner, and the sound came closer. Harry Potter suddenly appeared before him, his Invisibility Cloak thrown hastily to the side. Snape gazed dazedly up at the teen, whose face reflected the confliction he felt inside.

He did not want to see anyone else die, but at the same time, he certainly held no love towards his Potions professor. Snape knew these emotions well, for they were ones he shared. He had never cared whether Potter lived or died-the only reason he worked so hard to protect the boy was for the sake of Lily, to strive and fulfill the massive debt he owed her.

If he had the ability to laugh hysterically, he probably would have done so. Of course the last person he would have wanted to see him in such a state would be here. And yet…as Dumbledore might say…it was fate, for now Potter could have the last piece of the seventeen-year-long puzzle.

Reaching up, Snape grabbed Potter by his front and pulled him down. "Take it…take it," he managed to gurgle.

Silver-blue liquid poured from his eyes, mouth and nose as he willed certain memories to spill from him. Potter looked startled for a moment, but after being handed a flask from Granger, hastily collected as much of the liquid as he could.

Yes, thought Snape distantly, as the cold fingers of Death began to close around his poisoned heart. He looks very much like James. But his eyes…

"Look…at…me."

For the first time in his life, Potter was obedient. He snapped his emerald eyes down to meet onyx. An odd sort of contentment washed over Snape as he began to leave the mortal world and move on to the next. He had done all he could do, and though Harry was destined to die, he hoped Lily would understand.

I'm coming, Lily…I'll see you soon, and I hope you'll be gracious enough to forgive me.

He arrived in place that was white and bright and golden, and the very first person who greeted him in the afterlife was the person he'd yearned to see for over a decade. Lily Evans Potter, long red hair swaying around her, long white dress skimming the clouds they were standing on, smiled affectionately and extended her arms.

"I forgive you, Sev…I did a long time ago. I knew there were reasons why we were friends…and I think you forgot those reasons for a while."

Peace and happiness. That was all Snape felt, and perhaps that was all he could feel. He stepped into Lilly's embrace, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too," she returned. "I didn't…after all these years…"

Though she didn't finish, Snape knew what she was trying to say, simply replied, "Always."

She took his hand with a soft smile and led him down the pearl path, towards misty figures in the distance. "Thank you, for protecting Harry." She flashed a mischievous smile at him. "Though James has a few words for you, and I suppose I do too…but I'll let him go first."

All the hatred and disgust and envy he had harboured towards James Potter over the years seemed to have vanished…Snape felt only serenity.

All was well.

…

Rushing into the maternity ward of St. Mungo's, a flushed Harry Potter halted just in front of his wife's hospital bed. Her face was pale with exhaustion, but there was a healthy, vibrant glow about her. "I'm sorry," he panted, hurrying to her side and giving her a kiss. "I tried to get here as soon as I could-"

"I know," cut in Ginny with a tender smile. "But you would have been here earlier if your Auror business hadn't been so important." She gave a small laugh. "It's actually probably a good thing you weren't here. I think I broke Ron's fingers."

"Where is everyone?" asked Harry, glancing around the empty ward.

"Mum and Dad are on their way with James. Hermione and Ron are off getting some food, they should be back shortly. Would you like to say hi?"

Heart pumping with excitement, Harry said, "'course I do."

Gently peeling back the blanket on the precious bundle she held in her arms, the tiny, scrunched-up face of their newborn son was revealed. Harry felt a pang of joy at the emerald green eyes that roamed around.

"Hi," he said softly, tenderly running a finger across his infant son's cheek. "I'm your dad. You're beautiful."

A nurse walked in just then, a piece of parchment and a quill clutched in her hands. She smiled warmly at the sight and said apologetically, "I am sorry to interrupt, but we were wondering if you had a name ready?"

Ginny gazed at her husband and smiled softly. "We've already talked about it."

Harry looked at her intensely. "Are you sure, Ginny? You had a few names yourself-"

"Yes, Harry. I'm sure. I think it'll be perfect." She tickled her son's stomach fondly. "And when he grows up, he'll get to hear a wonderful story about the significance of his names."

Nodding gratefully, Harry turned to the expectant nurse. "Albus," he said strongly, and the emotion that burst through was just as strong as the day he had lost his beloved headmaster.

"How lovely," cooed the nurse, touched by this display of love and loyalty towards the late Albus Dumbledore. "What about a middle name?"

His emotions thickened. Staring down into the emerald green eyes, Harry clasped his wife's hand tightly. "Severus. After the bravest man I ever knew."

The nurse wrote the newborn child's full name onto the scroll and departed with well-wishes for the parents. Ginny looked up at Harry with a curious expression. "How do you think Professor Snape would have felt about having our son named after him?"

Harry pictured his former Potions professor's face, and the horror that would have developed after being informed that his legacy had merged with that of the Potter's, and he burst into loud laughter.

"I think," he finally managed to get out, "that he probably would have killed me."

Accepting Albus Severus Potter into his arms, Harry cradled him close with a warm, affectionate smile.

Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. And thank you, Professor Severus Snape. For everything.