Lily's Box

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. All belong to JK Rowling (all praise the goddess of fantastic story-telling).

A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic I'm posting, so I'm just hoping it uploads okay! Written pre-OotP, so is essentially an AU fic now. Can't quite recall how I got inspired for this particular one. Ah well. On with the story.

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Chapter 1: Letters

"Are you going to open it?" demanded fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger impatiently.

Her best friend (one of them, anyway), Harry Potter, shrugged. "I don't know if I can."

"Sirius said there was a blood charm on it, remember?"

"Oh, I don't mean physically. I mean, I don't know if I'm ready emotionally."

"Oh. I get you." The two were sitting, cross-legged, on the floor of Hermione's bedroom. It was July twentieth, in the summer holidays between their fourth and fifth years. Harry was staying with Hermione this summer, and it was unlikely that either would be seeing their other best friend, Ron Weasley, as his family were in Romania visiting Ron's brother Charlie. They were then going to Egypt to visit another of Ron's brothers, Bill, who worked out there, in August.

The item the two were looking at was a strange box, painted red, gold and green. It had belonged to Harry's mother Lily before she had been murdered. The box had been retrieved from the rubble of the house, presumably by Albus Dumbledore, and placed in the Potters' vault in Gringott's, the wizard bank. Nobody knew what it contained.

"Okay," Harry said firmly. "Here goes." He undid the padlock and bolts before opening the two clasps. Lily Evans had been Muggle-born, and Hermione believed that her parents had given it to her, though Lily had probably magically expanded it.

Harry lifted the lid. "It – it's her personal things," he whispered in awe.

"There's a letter for you," Hermione noticed. Harry picked it up and, hands shaking, opened it, reading it aloud.

"Harry dearest,

If you are reading this, then Voldemort has come for us and our Secret Keeper has betrayed us. I don't know why, but I had this gut feeling that switching from Sirius would be fatal. Peter's Animagus form is not a rat for nothing.

Or perhaps I am being paranoid. I want you to have this box. It contains everything that means something to me, and hopefully will to you, too.

This box is protected by a blood charm. Only those whose blood (only a few drops; don't worry!) has been given willingly, all within 24 hours of the first to give, can open it. I have no blood from Peter as he was absent at the time (suspicious?), but I do from me, you, James, Sirius, Albus, Remus and Severus.

I love you, Harry.

Your mother, Lily."

"Severus?!" Hermione squawked. "As in Severus Snape, Potions teacher who loathes you with every cell in his body?"

"How many people do you know called Severus?" Harry retorted.

"But why…?"

Harry reached into the box and pulled out a smaller box labelled 'Letters from Severus', along with a green leather diary. He opened the oldest-looking letter. It was on pale green parchment and the sender's address was written as 'S. Snape, first-year boys' dormitory, Slytherin House, Hogwarts'.

"Er – should you be reading that?" Hermione asked nervously. "There might be privacy charms or something on it. This is Snape we're talking about, after all."

Harry shrugged. "I don't care."

"So…what does it say?"

"Dear Miss Evans,

Thankyou for your willingness to keep company with me throughout the lengthy journey on the school train. It was enjoyable conversing with a person of intelligence (Avery cannot be classed as anything other than a 'thug').

So you are a Gryffindor and I a Slytherin. I am sure you have been informed of the divide between our two houses. It may prove impossible for our alliance to be anything other than a secret one, especially as you are Muggle-born. I request that you do not reveal your connection with me to those such as James Potter and Sirius Black. I genuinely fear for you, should they discover me. Of course, I would understand completely, should you wish to terminate our alliance.

Yours sincerely,

Severus Snape "

"An eleven-year-old wrote that?" Hermione asked incredulously. "It's so – so –"

"Formal. But it would suit Snape," added Harry thoughtfully. "So my mother was friends with Snape…"

"Let's look at a more recent one," Hermione suggested, extracting one and making sure she knew where it had come from by using a scrap of paper to mark the spot. Harry took it and unfolded it, eyes widening.

"Is – is that blood?" Hermione breathed in morbid fascination.

"I don't know. Let's see. It's third year, by the date."

"Lily,

I'm sorry to owl you in the middle of the night (3.27am, to be precise), but I need to talk to you. I don't mean to dump all my problems on you, but you are the one light in my black world. I couldn't help tonight; I needed to do it. What Pettigrew did to me in Charms was just one thing too many. I had to get my blade out, Lily; I had to. It's keeping me alive, even if it's just for one more day. I suppose I keep going in the foolish hope that tomorrow might just be the day in which I can finally break free.

I know you'll want to see my arms, and ask the total. I have 20 new cuts on my right arm and 30 on my left. I'm running out of space on my left arm; scar tissue is so much more painful to cut through.

Please, Lily. I'm suffocating, drowning. I don't know how much more I can take.

Severus"

"Bang goes formalities," Harry observed drily.

"Why would he feel as though he had to cut himself?" asked Hermione shakily. This was certainly not what she had been expecting. "Was his life really so awful?"

"I don't know, Herm. I think – I think there's a good reason for him being so jaded and bitter and cynical, though. I mean, what could push a person so far as to make them feel as though hurting themselves is the only thing that will make them feel better?"

"Something awful," Hermione replied quietly. "No wonder he is the way he is."

Harry shook his head slowly. "Makes him more than just the horrible Potions teacher."

"It sounds a bit like the Marauders have really got it in for him."

"Here's one from fourth year, Herm…"

"Lily,

Thankyou. You were my angel. Angels, though, cannot always save everyone. I am too broken.

Remember me. Please.

Severus"

"It's a suicide note," Hermione whispered in horror.

"Is it the only one, though?"

"Why?"

Harry opened his mother's diary to the date corresponding with the letter, and began to read.

"Oh God. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse for him, my best friend tries to take his own life. Nott found him collapsed in the bathroom, wrists slit. Well, arms, really; hand to elbow along the vein. Madam Pomfrey's done the best she can, but he'll always have two thick white scars running the length of his forearms.

They've found out about the self-harming as well, of course. Severus is still unconscious, but he'll recover physically.

As for mentally…

I hate his parents. Hate, hate, HATE! How could anyone do what they have done to their only child? How? How? I don't understand. How can you beat a four-year-old almost to death? How can you tell him he's worthless, pathetic, a freak, a failure, evil, stupid, useless? How can you tell him that so often that before he's old enough to start Muggle primary school, he hates himself so much he wants to die? He was five when he first deliberately swallowed poison. His first suicide attempt was at five years old. Why has nobody done anything? If they were Muggles, Social Services would have investigated, taken him into Care and sent his parents to prison. His father started sexually abusing him when he was five, and first raped him when he was seven. I know I've said this before in this diary, but I need to repeat it, get it out of my system. His mother began forcing him to have sex with her, under Imperius, when he was nine.

It makes you sick.

Is it prejudice? His father is intimidating. He reminds me strongly of Lucius Malfoy, that arrogant seventh-year prefect. And he's a Slytherin; they do seem to be victimised. I want to torture Severus' parents until they die. Why? He had no childhood. Now he's so messed up it's a wonder he can breathe, let alone get the grades he does. He started self-harming when he was eight. Today included, he's attempted suicide five times, and he's not fifteen until February.

Please let him live. Please.

"I feel sick," Hermione whispered. "How could anyone do such a thing? To their own child…It's unthinkable."

"What's unthinkable, sweetheart?" Mrs. Granger asked from the doorway, biscuit tin in hand.

"Oh, Mum!" Hermione flung herself on her mother, sobbing desperately.

"Hermione? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"We – we've just found out – my mother's best friend…" Harry choked out.

"It's horrible! His parents…they – they did things to him…"

"Sexual things," Harry expanded, shuddering.

"He tried to kill himself, Mum," Hermione whispered. "At least five times, but we still have twenty years to go yet."

"Six," Harry corrected. "My mother only had six more years left before she was murdered."

"Do you know if he's still alive?" asked Mrs. Granger. "Perhaps you could talk to him…"

"It's Professor Snape, Mum."

"Oh. You all hate him, don't you?"

"I used to, until about half an hour ago," Hermione confessed. "It's horrible, Mum! How can people do that sort of thing?"

Mrs. Granger sat down on her daughter's bed, Hermione beside her. "Some people are very sick and twisted, love," she said. "I can't understand it either, but people do that."

Harry looked up. "The next letter's dated a month later."

"What does it say?" Hermione asked tremulously.

"Lily,

So I'm still alive and due back in school. Nobody wants to help me. That Ravenclaw who attempted suicide last week is seeing a shrink. Trust me; she was in the bed next to me. You know why she did it? She split up with her boyfriend. How pathetic.

I'm obviously a lost cause. Why do they bother saving my life if I don't get any help? I asked Angela (Pomfrey's assistant). She looked at me in disgust and said, "You're a Slytherin, aren't you?" – as though that was the deciding factor.

I need to talk to you. Soon.

Severus "

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TBC