Author's Note:

I don't think anyone knows how hard it was to write this chapter. I've included Sirius Black but not in the way that most would expect. We also see a slightly darker side of Severus; I thought it was important because it shows that even someone who shows few emotions, he still is unbelievably human. I know it's been a chapter long over due and it's very long, so enjoy!

The beginning of February promised the seal of winter's deadly kiss. Several infants had died in Spinner's End, and even if I couldn't stand the little boy who occupied the same room as myself, I made sure that he was warm throughout the night. I couldn't risk the Boy Who Lived dying from a cold; the irony would've been unfathomable.

"You don't have to stay with me, Sev," a voice spoke at my side, a pair of green eyes moving to meet mine. Her dark, red curls fell from their place on her cheek, toppling to her shoulder lazily. "It wasn't planned and it's too cold for what you're-"

I rolled my eyes, looking at her with a stern expression. "You and I both know that I most likely can't put on enough clothes to be warm enough. I'm staying; snow hasn't ever bothered me and I doubt it will now." Despite seeing the smile that spread on her lips, I could feel that my body trembled from the wind that blew under my jacket and nipped at my skin. But even when I could feel it, it didn't seem as real as the warmth that had taken over me, warmth that could only be provided from Lily herself.

The black haired nuisance constantly fought me on wearing a sweater and jacket over it; if I could manage to get a hat on him, I considered it an astounding accomplishment.

Winter was irritating from him being able to walk properly; he brought in snow from his shoes or just in his hands to throw at me. I could understand the once joyful notion but never the less, I found him to be nothing but annoying. Every once in awhile, I would throw a snow ball back but not with my hands; I had a wand for a reason, didn't I?

Upon request through owl, Dumbledore had been given one visit from wherever he dwelled to see Harry. It was too risky to do more than one visit; if Lucius Malfoy had seen me associating with Dumbledore on any occasion, it would've looked suspicious.

Dumbledore had appeared, using magic to do so, and leaving his shadow to hover behind me in the kitchen. I caught sight of it and spilt coffee onto my hand, feeling the unpleasant sting on my skin. I would love to inform you that this coffee is hot and very spillable. His eyes, somewhat enlarged by his half-moon glasses, searched my face before chuckling. "I see that you are startled."

"Most people understand that the front door is a common entry," I shot back, sending down my cup and turning my gaze to him. I could feel the muscles under my skin morphing into ones of natural hatred; as far as I was concerned, he was no more than a manipulative man who knew the power he had over me. With only six words, he could have me locked away in Azkaban with no consideration as to what lengths as I had gone to spy for the Order.

Dumbledore scoffed, his blue eyes shining with something unnameable beyond his glasses. "Where is he? I assume you haven't murdered him yet."

My glare would have peeled the skin off of a thousand men; I was not as humored by his remarks as he was. "He's in the living room."

Just as the tall man before me moved to exit my kitchen, my hand was on his shoulder, gripping him tight enough to assure him that I had to speak to him. "Do not treat me like your precious Marauders. I am not them; I do not find your jokes humorous, nor your insistence of this situation. If I am to continue to watch after him, you will address me formally, as you did when I was.. one of them."

He sighed and nodded slightly, part of his smile disappearing. "As you wish, Severus; do not forget this when you do want my wit." As if I could miss that part of you; it always came in handy when you wanted to spare a group of Gryffindors punishment.

With that statement, he was off, taking the small, black-haired boy into his arms and grinning down at him. I suppose he should claim to professionally have two faces; however, I was one of the few with the "privilege" of seeing his other face. Rather than a privilege, it was a punishment.

Laughing erupted from the other room and for a moment, I was concerned. It was not an unusual sound in the house but I had no idea Dumbledore was capable of causing joy in another human being. After all, I always had considered him a manipulative man who would convince one to do his dirty work, then blame them when his plan had turned sour.

Part of me wanted Harry as far away from Dumbledore as possible, to keep him from becoming a little pawn in the Headmaster's game, but even I knew that the moment James had died, he had become a way out for the wizarding world. Even before James and Lily's death, the boy was sure to be a key element; it was only pure hope that convinced me that he would not face the same fate that they had.

The time fell to nearly mid-summer when Professor McGonagall had finally requested to see me. I took into consideration that she would not hesitate to kill me with any other curse; if it was not an Unforgivable, there would be no trace of the spells that would send me to my death.

What I was not prepared for was the surprising pleasantness she faced me with. She opened the door to her office, one I had visited plenty of times in attempts to make a certain Gryffindor get along with me; however, her plan failed in the fact that she wanted me to apologize. I would have nothing of it; as far as I was concerned, I had every right to hex the absolute hell out of him. I would never apologize to Potter.

Underneath a pointed black hat, a wrinkled face greeted me; even since my graduation from Hogwarts, she had aged quite a bit. There was no warmth in her expression but it was evident that any other emotion towards me (other than blankness) was hidden well. "Severus."

I stepped from the shadows, releasing Harry's hand carefully. I didn't have to look into a mirror to know that I had become several shades paler than I naturally was; the blood had been drawn from my face, as if to compensate for the lack of blood moving in my system. "Professor," I greeted, meeting her eyes. They were green but far from the green that Lily's were. They were dull with age and something that reflected back at me: heartbreak.

"Sit," she ordered, the tip of her hat pointing to the chair in front of her. With the nod of my head, I sat, my gaze fixated on the scratch marks on the front of her desks; it was most likely from children moving their shoes against it enough to create the scuff marks. Either way, looking at that was better than looking at her. "Are you going to look at me or are you going to keep your head down your entire teaching career?"

I scoffed, my dark eyes shifting to hers. I held my tongue as a way to keep the peace that existed between us; the last thing I needed was for her to have a reason to go against me. "Thank you, Professor; I can always count on you for the moments of belittlement that I have missed from my earlier years." I took a deep breath, clasping my hands together. "Though I did not say it all those years ago, I'm sorry that you lost them."

Her lips twitched at the side, her eyes giving off the smallest edges of pain. "Of course; I hope her death was the wake up call you needed. If one life can't spared, it shouldn't be in vain," she replied, sighing softly. Her expression was fueled by hatred and I knew who it was aimed towards. However, that did not excuse her of claiming Lily to be my only reason for change.

"Do you honestly believe that you're the only one that lost anything? Has your mind failed grasp that I'm stuck with a reminder of.." My teeth gritted, my thumb adding pressure to my other hand to contain all the things I wanted to say. "You weren't the only one who lost someone they cared about because Sirius Black was a traitor. And even with that loss, the boy is alive; which, in the end, is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Professor McGonagall scoffed in my direction, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "I find it odd to hear a complaint from you Severus, at least this soon after the events; I didn't think you'd bring up for a few years more at least."

"This soon?" I demanded, my tone mocking hers. "This soon? Because of one of your formerly favorite children, she's dead! Your precious James is dead!" I took a few deep breaths, my chest heaving with how my voice had risen; never had I yelled at a woman in such a way. Never had I been provoked to yell in such a way but it did not mean that I would sit there and stay silent.

For a few moments, she simply stared at me, still in the state of shock. I glanced over to Harry and saw that he looked terrified of me; there had only been one other time that I had seen him so scared and it even then, it was not quite the same thing.

I cleared my throat, standing up slowly and moving my gaze to her once again. "I believe it is best that I leave now," I commented, nodding in her direction before moving to where Harry had been playing. I held my hand out for him and sighed in a distorted sense of relief that he took it firmly.

I glanced once more McGonagall, discovering her gaze was still set in front of her. She appeared unhinged, like someone had murdered someone before her. She was experiencing the Potter's deaths all over again, undoubtedly.

No, I hadn't been fair but it must have completely escaped her notice that life wasn't fair; why should I be?

The Dark Lord circled me, his wand at his side but hostility missing from his features. "It is clear now that you are a consistent servant, Severus. The question that remains to be answered is if you are a loyal one."

"I am, my Lord; I have always been faithful to you and to our cause," I replied, confidence in my voice. My posture was still, proving that I was indeed telling the truth. Most who lied to the Dark Lord switched from foot to foot, giving other tells to their nervousness as well.

"Then prove it to me."

The set of double doors from the West Wing opened and I turned to face them. Two tall silhouettes began to walk forward, their faces slowly being brought to life. Eventually, they were no longer dark figures but men that I recognized from the circle; I took notice to the woman they seemed to be dragging along with them.

Her skin was nearly a snow white, coated with a layer of sweat, though she shivered. Her arms were marked with red and purple marks, making an angry pattern. On top of the marks, a layer of dirt was nearly everywhere, including her attire.

The men threw her in front of me, their expressions morphing into those of disappointment when she barely caught herself. She rose her head slightly to keep it from touching the floor, her entire face spoke of heavy exhaustion. She had been fighting against them, against us for weeks, or so it appeared.

Finally, her face was revealed from the wet, dark, red, locks that surrounded her face; I knew why she had survived. For one, it was Lily; she was defiant in nearly every way. But there was the other reason that I knew had kept her alive for so long.

She was meant for me to kill. She was my test of loyalty.

Air became scarce in my lungs and I found that if I was not so guarded, I would've collapsed right next to her. "My Lord, what does this have to do with my loyalty?" I questioned, hoping that for once in my life, I was completely and utterly wrong about his thought process.

"Make her suffer. I'll kill her on my own but you? You must show her that she is not like us, that she is an abomination." His red eyes pierced me in a way that told me that both of us would regret my decision to not go forth and hurt her.

The men disappeared once again, as did the Dark Lord, but Lily stayed where she was. Her right leg was in a position that suggested that she was going to sit like an Indian, but her left leg was stretched out behind her, still holding some of her weight. "Well?" she demanded, her emerald orbs sending a tremble through my hands. "So this is what you wanted? This is what you would kill for? Doing this is worth more than your soul?"

I was slightly horrified with myself when she put it that way; she wasn't lying either. I had read all of the duties on being a Death Eater, what was expected of me, but never in a thousand years, could I have imagined that I would have to carry out all the responsibilities. Never did it cross my mind that she could be in front of me and that I would be her preparation for death.

Rather than answer her, I simply stared, catching the thin layer of dirt and focusing on the blotches it left behind on her skin, the trails that were created by men like me, loyal men of the Dark Lord.

"I should've known," she whispered, hunching over slightly so that her hands rested on the tile, her back giving proof to shredded clothing. "I should've known you were a coward."

"And you think being with the Order is brave? You think resisting the Dark Lord is brave?" I shot back, my eyebrows furrowing together. I wasn't angry with her but I would not back down. Weakness was not an option for me now.

She scoffed at me, seemingly readying herself for what was to come, but saying nothing more. She simply kept her gaze on the floor and her teeth clenched, baring them as if she were an animal.

I withdrew my wand from my trouser pocket, lifting it so that it appeared to rest on her figure. I couldn't think of more to say; there was nothing left to tell her now. Although I thought of a few things I wanted her to know, I had to keep them to myself. "Crucio," I said softly, my gaze disattached from her form but rather at the floor next to her.

Nothing happened. She didn't move, her form still hunched over, ready for pain, and she'd been disappointed. Her head rose and the expression she wore was unnameable; I'd never her make a face such as the one she wore. "You can't do it, can you?"

Her voice had been warm but no louder than the flutter of a moth's wings. She knew that I couldn't do it, but to whom was the part that she did not understand. She couldn't know that I stood in this very room, nearly twice a week, and made others suffer. She didn't know that she was the only exception.

I could feel a gaze burning into my back but the evidence lie in the shift of Lily's eyes to look elsewhere. I repeated the fact that she left me, that she ran away from me because she couldn't understand why I was doing what I was. She didn't know what it was like to have power, to work for a cause and have a reward; she didn't know what it was like to finally not be invisible.

"Crucio," I repeated, watching her body twist in a form that could only mean anguish.

Time and time again, I said the curse; I watched her body become merely a crumpled heap at my feet. I wore the expression of someone who was remorseful. I could feel the way that my lips were pressed together, the knot that formed in my throat.

Her hand reached up, reaching for simply the sleeve of my jacket. "Severus, please," she whispered, finally catching my hand. Her grip showed how much she truly had endured. And for the first time, I had a thought that would've never crossed my mind at any other time. I wish that you could be dead.

It escaped my mind until I finally came to consciousness, but when I did, I was screaming. There were no tears on my face, nor feelings of an open wound; it was just my yelling echoing off the walls, my hands shaking as they were curled in the sheets.

It's a dream; only a dream. You have never hurt Lily.

Despite my mind knowing that I had never once placed a hex on her, I felt as though I had killed her myself. How could her hand feel so real in mine? How could her features look so realistic? Why was this dream occurring now?

My attention was caught to the doorway, where a small figure stood. I cast the spell of light, finding that once more, his expression was terrified. But this time, a few elements had changed; it was not that he was scared of me but for me.

I didn't look him in the eyes but he took my discomfort as an invitation; he crossed the room quickly, holding his arms up to me. I sighed, setting my wand aside, still with the concentration on the spell in my mind, and picked him up. I set him on the other side but he climbed into my lap, placing his head on my chest. Now, I was forced to control my heart rate as I held the fragile being. I'm thankful that you understand boundaries so well.

I eventually held onto him, my gaze straight forward and blank. I could still hear her, even though it was not real, it had been.

My walls for Occlumency were placed up once more, my mind coming to ease. Peace.. Finally.

Sleep evaded me for the rest of the night, something that I was somewhat grateful. Though my Occlumency was strong enough to withstand the Dark Magic that the Dark Lord performed, I still wasn't sure of my emotions. Though they were locked down, they were not secure, not quite yet.

There must have been something about the way I looked; Harry had once again attempted to comfort me, refusing to let me go until I had firmly demanded that he do so. I understood his attempt once I looked in the mirror; the face that looked back to me was not the same face that had been in the mirror the night before.

By the time Harry was nearing three, I had pushed aside my bitterness and decided on one thing: I wouldn't wait for Azkaban to abuse Sirius Black. After questioning him, I would torture him accordingly; he could tell everyone that Lily wasn't dead because of his decisions but he was lying to only himself. In the days following the visit, my bitterness would give me a new strength to wake up from my grief.

Not only was it my harbored hatred but every moment that I looked into his godson's eyes that made me crave for answers. There could've been two pairs of eyes in that elegant color of jade but there were not. They were Lily's eyes and hers only. It was also the way Harry smiled at me, as if he trusted me with his entire life; he undoubtedly believed that I was his father.

It was July 13th, only weeks before Harry would turn three. After packing a small portion of Felix Felicis, one which I was not entire sure was worth six months of brewing, I then pocketed my Veritaserum (something that had been a walk through flowers compared to "liquid luck"); it ensured me that Sirius would tell me the truth. Even if he did resist me, he could be sure that the Cruciatus Curse would be used on him. He was the one who caused me to be stuck with a little child.

"Lucan," I called from the kitchen, seeing the child lazily turn over in my chair. "It's time to get up."

He began to rub his eyes, yawning softly. "I don't want to, Poppy." He curled himself up once again, settling comfortably under his blanket. He'd been resistant to move after I was forced to read him a story before he fell asleep. His vision cut off from the world again as he closed his eyes, exhaling his weariness into the air.

In a fit of weakness, I almost let him stay; he looked so much like his mother when she had visited me on summer nights. When things at my house took the turn, I would go to her house, even in winter, on our Christmas break. Her parents seemed to like me but thought it was odd of who their daughter had chosen to be friends with. "You're friends with him? Lily, I understand he's a wizard as well but he's.. He's filthy."

Despite popular belief, I did take a shower (baths in the summer) every day. Why my hair was the way it was not only amazed me but bothered me at the same time. No matter how much I willed my teeth to straighten back in my adolescent years, they never did. They were put together almost sloppily, as if someone had run out of time when lining them in my gums.

Alas, I picked him up from the couch, feeling his head hit my shoulder lazily. "Your mother would've loved this," I mumbled, holding him carefully. "We'll first need to get you in the shower."

I'd grown accustomed to the days of attempting to shower him; he always sat down and looked up to me with jade, green eyes, ones that still dared me to try to make him stand. Only once had I succeeded.

This morning was sure to be no different. His head still rested on my shoulder as I began to prepare him for the shower to come. "Lucan, it may have failed your mind to understand, but showers are better taken with your eyes open."

My words were lost to him as he moved his head, attempting to become more comfortable. He mumbled something, something inaudible but undoubtedly cheeky; he'd already learned the habit from me. Or James.

I nearly dropped him at the thought, drawing a breath in before setting him against the wall of the bathroom. He began to tilt to the side, his eyes opening with the rush of his pulse. As I helped him get free of his shirt, he began to lean against me again, picking his legs up when it was time too.

Once more, he sat down in the shower, causing me to sigh but roll up my sleeves so that I would stay mostly dry. As the water came up about mid-forearm, I captured a glimpse of the vivid, red tattoo, almost as if someone had newly branded it into my skin; if I had not locked things away, I would've felt shame, remorse, but rather, I felt nothing at all.

Unfortunately, the process took longer than expected; had I not had Harry with me, I would've Apparated to the nearest location. I considered it for a few moments but decided against it. If it was painful for a wizard at the age of fifteen to sixteen, the effects on a child would be horrendous. Rather, I used another use of flight: unsupported flight. Though the talent was passed onto me by the Dark Lord himself, it was useful in times of dire need.

Holding Harry to my chest tightly, I became a whirl-wind of black smoke, only my face appearing occasionally to find the world once again. It was exhaustive, to go as many miles as I had and mumble the incantations over the prison to make it visible to my eyes.

The flight had no effect on Harry and ever so softly, I cursed his name for it. I felt slightly weak in the knees, mainly from the years of not practicing the act; however, the task at hand was far more important. So after setting Harry down and taking his hand, I took a drink of the "liquid luck," discarding it into my pocket before a man met us at the opening of the prison.

"Who are you?" he questioned, his eyes beginning to lose their harshness; the potion had been made correctly after all.

After a few moments, I gave him a closed- mouth smile, not bothering to have a shift in my tone. I had luck, after all. "Severus Snape; I'm here to see the prisoner Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black?" the man echoed, his eyes widening slightly. "Now why on Earth would you want to see a man like him?"

Despite the protest of the idea, the door slid to the side, vanishing into the side panels for only a few moments; the moment that I had passed the threshold, a wind from behind me, managing to cut through my clothes and leave the hairs on my arm standing. Ignorant fools, placing a prison out in the middle of the bloody ocean.

I turned to the guards, looking at them with an expectant expression. "Take me to him. I don't care if he's dangerous. I can handle myself; I expect to be let in the cell as well."

They nodded, clearly horrified at the thought. I found myself being horrified with them, but not for the same reasons. People, in all the cells, were scratching at the walls, attempting to exit the jail. One man's hands were nearly to the bone, but he kept scratching, no matter how much blood poured forth from his hands. His eyes were transfixed on the wall, as if it was his only savior.

An elevator, appearing like a cell, revealed itself when we reached the ninetieth cell. The descent was slow; the two floors passed by but those in the cells nearby were able to be seen, some of them nearly risking dismemberment to escape, even if it was one limb of themselves going elsewhere. I glanced down and Harry was watching, taking the sight of misery in.

"Don't look," I whispered softly, feeling his forehead press against my leg, his hand tightening its grip on mine. It felt unnatural, for him to be so reliant on me to protect me; I had only protected one who was in the Order and even then, they had doubted me and my motivation.

Eventually, the ride came to a stop and the doors peeled apart, allowing myself and Harry to step forth. The guard didn't move, nearly paralyzed once he saw the cell on the opposite wall; it contained a man, seemingly already thinning to nothing. The hair suggested that the man had attempted to tear it out and had only succeeded in making it messy. White and grey clothes hung loosely from his frame as he trembled, his pale fingers somehow managing to appear from under the dirt.

After taking in the shell of Sirius Black, I once again took a drink of "liquid luck" before pulling out the Veritaserum and clutching it tightly. "Is it safe to assume that this is more comfortable for you than the Order's headquarters?"

The sound of my voice sent his head turning into my direction, giving the impression that I had poisoned his food. Bags hugged under his eyes, his facial hair far outgrown from the times I had seen it in the past. The twitch at the side of his mouth reminded me of his hatred but bothered me little.

"What are doing here? Have you finally come to where you belong?" Sirius shot back, his eyes falling onto the boy that stood next to me. His pair of grey orbs shot back to me before he rose, the only thing holding him back was his chains. "Let go of my godson!"

Your godson? You should've taken the idea into consideration when you had his parents murdered. "I find that hard to believe; Lucan is my child and honestly, I can't stand you. Why would I make you his godfather?"

The door swung open, making me turn to Harry and bending down. I caught sight of a woman who motioned for the boy but rendered herself too scared to come near the cell. "Go to her, Lucan. She will care of you, I promise."

The toddler began his run, his plump legs nearly causing him to fall more than once. I stood fully once I saw that the woman had taken his hand and disappeared beyond the doors of the elevator once more. I made the motion for him to cover his eyes and instead, he closed them. Already becoming rebellious, I see.

With Harry's absence, I turned to the man in the cell, noticing that he had taken a new expression. He shook with a fierce anger, his grey eyes darkened by his rage; he was already showing signs of his madness.

Sirius fought against the chains harshly, his teeth bared at me. "What have you done to him? I bet you've brainwashed him already; I told them-"

As quick as one could blink, my hand struck across his face, blood spilling from his mouth. I closed my eyes, tilting my head for a moment before taking a deep breath. "You will answer my questions and that will be all. You won't speak the of boy, nor will you speak of how close you were to the Potter's unless it is vital to the answer of the question. Do you understand?"

My hand held his jaw in my grip tightly, his lips parting from pain. The once capped potion was poured into his mouth, but only two drops; too much could cause instability in him. My palm moved to cover his lips, forcing him to swallow the potion.

Sirius' eyes widened, his features then becoming panicked. He stayed still but it was evident that he was far from being calm. "What are you doing to me?"

"Why did you turn in the Potter's to the Dark Lord? What did he offer you that was so great? What is worth the cost of your loyalty?" It was far too many questions at one time but there were too many questions unraveling in my head. He had to answer them correctly, unless his mind exceeded over what was normal for even those who had practiced their minds for years.

He shook his head madly, his pupils dilating for a few moments before gaining focus again. "He didn't offer me anything; my loyalty is just the same. I swear to it."

My palm met his face once again and I found it oddly better than having a wand. His head was bent towards his chest, saliva and blood mixing in an unsightly mixture. My hand found his hair and pulled his head so that he was looking at me, seeing my hatred at the most raw of forms. If I were animal, he would've been my prey now; his fragile body had given the sense that he would burn out quickly. His knees were already bending, shaking under the weight of himself.

"Don't lie to me." My tone was nearly as frigid as the air around us, proving that I was the exception to those who had pitied him. "I'm not going to let you twist my mind like you have everyone else. Tell me the truth!"

Sirius struggled, his face close to mine and his grey orbs narrowing in my direction. "You want the truth, you greasy- haired snake? Peter Pettigrew turned them in. That's right; that little rat betrayed the love of your life! What are you going to do about it, Snape? It's not like she love you anyway; in fact, she loathed you. She had every reason to after what you did to her! And had she not stood in James' way, he would've murdered you the second you walked through the doors of the Order. He should have. He might be alive, she might be alive if he had."

I swallowed down the realization that I had not been wrong to think she hated me, that she could've possibly wanted me to die, just as James did. My jaw clenched and I decided that no matter how short the visit had been, no matter how long it could've been, it had been in vain.

"You lie, you flea- ridden, pathetic, traitor," I hissed, my eyes focused sharply on his; he looked as if he were going to burst. I backed away from him for a few steps before exiting the cell.

"Don't walk away from me!" he pleaded, his voice seeming to crawl from his throat with every last bit of raw emotion.

My eyes narrowed, my cheeks drawing in to hug my cheekbones slightly more than usual. "Save it for someone who believes you, Black. I'm going to let you die, just like you did to her. I hope he comes for you; I hope he knows that you were too incompetent to escape. And I hope he murders you like he should have so long ago."

His lips trembled, his body shaking with the new chill that came from the lack of heat in the prison; it was also the nearing Dementors, their essence promising to steal not only happiness but any hope of warmth. I gave him my best smile before walking away, my gaze fixated on the steps that I took next. As a woman came back with Harry, one final cry rang through the air.

"Snape!"

Each step I took became lighter, his voice still carrying throughout the jail. What care was I to give? He had let Lily die, had let his own friend die; and all he could focus on was getting to Harry, on unhinging me in every way that mattered. You must be mad after all.

Though Harry went through his birthday in a blur, even to the months following, November sealed in the inevitable stroke of loneliness. It blew the last hope of companionship away as I was to settle myself down and focus on what kind of teacher I was to become, how I would act towards the children.

I decided that it was most likely in their best interest that I become a ruthless teacher, to grade as if they were on the same intellectual level as I was at their age. The seventh years would undoubtedly hate me with as much as they would have to study. It wouldn't be too much of a bother; I wasn't there for their entertainment.

I purchased the text books of which I would be teaching out of, from the first year to the seventh year. Any time that was free from Harry's presence was spent replicating potions, figuring the outcome should a student fail a step. Needless to say, not many students would be allowed to continue potions past their sixth year, should I have any say in it.

Being as it was the near beginning of December when I had reached near the back of the seventh year's book, I stood with my nose in the book, hovering over the cauldron. Just below me, the potion turned green, signalling for the next ingredient. As my hand went about its search, I noticed that it had been spilt. I shook my head, looking about for a moment. Surely I wasn't that distracted.

After bending down to pick up supplies that could only now be discarded, I heard the small but rapid footsteps coming down the hall. Harry stood in the doorway of my study, watching me with wide, green eyes.

For a moment, I thought selfishly; I thought about sending him away to be alone so that I could at least join him in that aspect. However, I motioned for him to come forward, scooping him so that he sat on my left arm. I set aside the ingredients in my hand before pouring fresh ones in.

As the potion began to turn blue, I saw the reflections on the surface, one youthful and still untouched, while the one next to it, my reflection, was simply weary, drained..

If I had only seen myself here, of all places, all those years ago.