Hello, reader. This is my first published story, so please review and let me know how it looks and if I should keep going!

I do NOT own Harry Potter or its universe. All rights go to J.K. Rowling and her publisher.

This is FANFICTION, it is not supposed to be accurate, so don't get mad at me for changing ages, genders, dates, personalities, talents, appearances, etc.

ENJOY!

Severus Snape seemed to glide down the corridors of Hogwarts, heading towards the Headmaster's office with a racing heart, praying with all his might that his suspicions were wrong; just moments ago he had felt the pain of his Dark Mark burning before it faded to near-invisibility. There was only one possible explanation ––

The Dark Lord was gone.

As he ran, thoughts and memories flew through his mind.

Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?

Up the stairs, he was halfway there.

No –– no message –– I'm here on my own account!

Flowing through the hallways, grateful for whatever deity out there had allowed the corridors to be cleared of any students or ghosts at this late hour.

He thinks it means Lily Evans!

Fear clenched at his heart, praying to every god or goddess he had ever heard of that his worst nightmares would not come true; not on this night.

Hide them all, then… Keep her –– them –– safe. Please.

His heart felt like it would explode from his chest at any moment, it pounded so greatly against his ribcage, echoing in his ears. He could scarcely breathe, for fear of the one thing he wanted less than anything in this world to come true.

And what will you give me in return, Severus?

There, at the end of the hall, was the gargoyle that would grant him admittance to the office he had been racing towards for several minutes –– ever since he received the summons.

Anything…

Severus nearly shouted the password at the statue from down the hall, so that, by the time he reached the gargoyle, it was already leaping aside, the wall behind it splitting in two. Severus leapt forward onto the spiral staircase behind the wall as it began to move smoothly upward, the wall closing with a thud behind him. He rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last stopping before a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

The door opened before he could knock. Severus entered the Headmaster's office, not feeling the sense of awe he once had. The room was large and circular, full of funny little noises. A number of silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were wide awake and staring at the man seated at the enormous, claw-footed desk, behind which was a shelf containing the shabby, tattered Sorting Hat.

"Ah, Severus," said the man at the desk. He was very old with several feet of silver hair that could easily have been tucked into his belt; twinkling blue eyes were glimmering with excitement behind half-moon spectacles. "Take a seat –– we still have a few more moments until our next guests arrive for this discussion."

Severus took a seat in the chair across from the desk, his terror dissipating somewhat by the gleam in the old man's eyes. He wouldn't look excited if someone had died –– Dumbledore may be foolish, but he did not see anyone's death as anything but tragic.

After a moment or two, the fireplace flared to life, and a man stepped out of it. Severus recognized this man immediately, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to instinctively sneer at the sight of him. Shortly after the tall, thin man with untidy jet-black hair and hazel eyes straightened up, ignoring the presence of Severus Snape entirely, it was clear that he wasn't alone; grasped in his arms was a tightly wrapped bundle, through which Severus could see a tuft of black hair just as untidy as James Potter's.

It was only a few seconds later that another figure stepped through, and any tension that had remained in Severus's body drained from him. The woman who had just arrived was pale with thick, dark red hair and bright, almond-shaped green eyes –– the same eyes Severus had fallen in love with over a decade ago. She, too, held a bundle of a boy with black hair, but this boy's hair wasn't untidy like the father's, at least, not in the same sense –– it was obviously bed-head, but not unnaturally messy and incapable of grooming.

"James, Lily," said Dumbledore. "Thank you for coming."

"Headmaster," greeted James, inclining his head.

"What's this about?" asked Lily, not even glancing at Severus, which sent a pang of hurt through his very soul. Oh, how dearly he regretted ever uttering that awful word at the end of their fifth year, but it had hurt his pride too much to be humiliated in such a foul manner. "We don't really have the time for this right now."

"This will take but a moment of your time," assured Dumbledore. "I just wished to receive your story of tonight's events before rumor could muddle them."

Severus noticed the tear tracks on Lily's face and wondered what had happened.

"James and I," began Lily, "needed a night out. We called my parents over to watch the boys for us…" She trailed off, choking back more tears.

Potter put his free hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Voldemort attacked the cottage," he said quietly. "Peter betrayed us."

Severus rolled his eyes –– he had warned Dumbledore against trusting the man. He was one of very few people who knew of the Marauders and their animagus forms, and he could see the betrayal of a man who so closely resembled a rat coming from miles away. He had known for years that the Pettigrew boy was weak, following the biggest bully on the block for his own safety –– it was hardly surprising that he had gone running to the Dark Lord when the war started taking a turn for the worst.

Dumbledore seemed to deflate, sighing wearily.

"What happened next?" he asked after a moment.

"Lily's family are all Muggles," said Potter. "There wasn't anything they could do… Her father was cut down first –– it looked like he was trying to buy them time to get away." Lily choked on a sob, holding the son in her arms closer. "Her mother managed to get the boy's upstairs and into their room, but Voldemort was right behind her, I guess… She used her body as a shield, she stood between him and the boys."

Dumbledore's eyes gazed at the two parents intensely, and Severus knew there were a thousand thoughts racing through the man's mind.

"Continue," he requested quietly.

"We don't know what happened next," said Potter, "but when we got home a few minutes later –– the wards had let us know that someone was attacking –– it was too late. I don't know how the boys survived, but Voldemort was nothing but ashes at their feet, and the cottage was completely destroyed; the entire eastern wing on the second floor was blown apart."

Dumbledore was out of his seat in an instant and approaching the grieving Potters. He looked between them and waved his wand, muttering something in a different language under his breath as he did.

"Unbelievable…" whispered Dumbledore at last. "The Dark residue left behind on both of your sons is that of the Killing Curse, but how did they survive?"

He seemed to be asking himself more than them.

"You said that Lily's mother was between them and Voldemort?" he asked.

Potter glanced at his wife hesitantly. "Yeah, that's where her… body… was…"

"Interesting," murmured Dumbledore.

After a few minutes where the old man contemplated silently and Potter comforted his wife, all of them forgetting that Severus was still there –– he had been debating whether or not they would notice if he left –– Dumbledore chuckled softly under his breath.

"Love," he said. "Love. It was your mother's love, Lily, that spared your sons. Her refusal to stand aside and let Voldemort take their lives to rid himself of the one with the power to vanquish him created a barrier that shielded them from harm. Voldemort would have seen Muggles as far beneath him, unworthy of his time and efforts, until the moment when she did not stand aside.

"Your sons were spared because of your mother's unfathomable devotion to ensure their very survival above all else."

Severus thought this theory was utter rubbish, personally, but he wasn't about to voice that opinion aloud. He had known the Evans family growing up, and they had treated him as if they were his own when his own father, Tobias, abused him and kicked him out of the house at thirteen. Granted, his mother, Eileen, had managed to convince the drunkard to let Severus come home by the next summer, but it was never the same. Severus never felt as at home with his own parents as he had with Lily and her family; despite "Tuney's" awful behavior and harpy-like voice.

"Which one of them was marked?" asked Dumbledore, bringing Severus's attention back to the situation at hand. "Which one of them is to be the child of prophecy?"

Lily and Potter set their sons down on Dumbledore's desk, then unwrapped the blankets they were bundled in. The boys were stripped of their clothes, leaving only their diapers on, and the situation suddenly became so much more complicated that Severus felt compelled to laugh.

Both boys were marked –– The one with Potter's untidy hair had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead, while the other had an even bigger lightning bolt stretching across his torso from his left shoulder down to his right hip.

"Why does it matter, if the Dark Lord is gone?" asked Severus, delighting inwardly at the way all three of them jumped. "Has he not already been vanquished?" It was the only explanation possible for why the Dark Mark had disappeared. "What does it matter which is marked, so long as it is all over?"

"Voldemort will return," said Dumbledore, "and whichever one is marked will be in terrible danger when he does."

Severus thought that all four Potters would be in trouble when that happened, but he appeared to be the only one capable of that thought. He wondered if Lily's acceptance that only one of her sons would be targeted was due to shock from losing her parents, or because of her blind devotion to Albus Dumbledore. The same devotion that had slowly disenchanted her with Severus, for he seemed to be the only member of the Order of the Phoenix capable of seeing any wrongs with the old man; including Alastor Moody, the cynic of cynics.

"What do we do?" asked Potter.

"Choose," said Dumbledore decisively. "We must choose one of the boys to be the beacon of hope for the Light, to be the child destined to defeat Voldemort once and for all."

Severus could already see this plan going to Hell, but knew his opinion was unwanted, and so remained silent, watching. He could see in their eyes the moment they decided which boy was to be the one who would become the Boy Who Lived, devoted hero of the wizarding world.

And he knew it would be the wrong choice.

They chose the boy who looked like a carbon-copy of James Potter –– the same thin face, untidy black hair, and even his hazel eyes.

But Severus knew it was the worst decision they could have made. He could see the intelligence and power in those bright-green eyes of the boy with Lily's thick hair, even if it was the same jet-black as Potter's, perhaps a shade darker. He knew it was the boy whose scar was much larger and encompassed his chest. Severus could almost smell the power that seemed to pulse within the boy, and it was euphoria. He promised himself in that moment that he would do whatever he could to make sure that this boy, Hardwin Charlus Potter, achieved his true potential. And if Harry Potter chose to side with the Dark Lord, for that was a possible decision if his family were to abandon him the way they appeared to be, then Severus would side with him.

He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins prided themselves on survival, no matter what.