Harry.

Snape had heard through the wizarding grapevine that this was Lily's favorite name. He didn't know why; perhaps it was a jolly uncle or her grandfather's name. Names weren't something they had talked about. Yet she liked it enough to name her son that.

Harry James.

James was obvious enough- his father. It was common to name boys after their father. Lily had loved James; he knew that. He knew from First Year that she had liked James, in spite of her violent claims to the contrary.

Occulmency wasn't something Severus had totally learned. It was something he just knew. He had always been skilled at "mind reading," even from an early age. Unconscientiously, he was able to skim the tops of peoples minds. As much as he hated his father, he also understood him. Somehow without fully knowing, he just knew that his father was simply repeating patterns he had grown up with. He didn't like it but he didn't know another way. He didn't know how to express his love or anger or fear any other way than by using his fists… on people.

But Severus knew. Lily had shown him, or tried to show him. Emotions weren't something he was good at showing, always keeping them bottled up, afraid they would explode out of him just like his father.

Well, generally he kept them bottled up. Except for one day by the lake…

He had planned to ask Lily out. She was his best friends and best friends, when they were a boy and a girl, often grew to love each other. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would agree to date him. He had to ask, to get to her before Potter did. He was constantly asking her out, constantly pestering her and as much as she claimed to hate it, he knew, Severus just knew, that she also, deep down, enjoyed it.

Oh, he knew she loved him. A deep, friendship love. She was confused by his actions, for sure. Sometimes he was confused by them himself. Her nearness… sometimes he wasn't sure if he was coming or going or hanging upside down.

That day, by the lake, he knew he was upside down. His Slytherin friends (only they really weren't his friends, he knew that now) had been teasing him. Lily was always standing up for you, they had said. Be man! Stand up for yourself! Don't let that Mudblood, a girl, do it for you!

What they didn't know was that he stood up for her, just as much as she did for him. When Petunia didn't answer her letters, she cried on his shoulder. When she failed a test (as rare as that was), he let her know just what he thought of the unfair professor, sometimes changing her tears into giggles. On rare occasions, he managed to hex Potter and his friends behind her back, sometimes for the sheer fun of it and sometimes for revenge for, well, liking Lily. His Lily.

Harry Snape.

Had it all gone according to his plan, had he not been driven to the brink by his friends and Potter's gang, Lily would have been his. His wife. And they would have had children together, lots of children and he would have been a wonderful father. He wasn't sure how, being that he didn't know what good fathers did. He suspected that there were books where one could learn this sort of thing and vague thoughts of fishing trips floated through his mind. (He didn't really like fishing, mind you, but if that's what it took to be a good father, then he would do it.) He mostly knew what good fathers didn't do and, well, if he avoided that, then he suspected he would be alright.

True, "Harry Potter" sounded a whole lot better than "Harry Snape." "Harry Snape" sounded like a crude name for parts of the male anatomy. But if that was Lily's favorite name, he would agree to it. But she would have to agree to his favorite girls name.

She often laughed at her mother's penchant for flower names but he thought it was sweet. Lily and Petunia, two little flowers. There were lots of flowers to chose from. It seemed Muggles favored Rose but Severus didn't like roses. Pretty to look at, yes, but tricky to touch. He didn't want a daughter named for a prickly flower, one that looked nice but inflicted pain. Not like lilies- pretty and smooth and sweet all around. No, he liked Violet. Those pretty purple flowers that even had a color named after them. Violet. Big and open and hearty and a deep, warm, cozy color. She would be like Lily, but dark like him. He just knew.

Violet Snape.

It could have been his, it should have been his, except for that one damn choice and that one stupid word. When Lily turned him away that night, he wanted to yell after her, to say that he did it all for her. He thought she would like he was cool, like Potter, if he hung out with those guys. Maybe his father would stop beating on his mother if he was a tough Slyterin. Maybe he could protect her from the rising Dark if he was a Death Eater.

Maybe. Maybe.

But, in the end, he couldn't and Harry wasn't his, he was Lily's all Lily's. As much as he looked like James, Harry was Lily's, all Lily's soul. And he knew it. And it hurt.