A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I hope to get back to updating regularly. Remember, there is time travel in this story.

"Check," came the voice, a hint of pride hidden within it. Severus tried to suppress the smile that crossed his lips as he saw Harry looking at him hopefully, green eyes peering up from beneath the black fringe. Severus made a show of scowling and inspected the board, easily seeing a move within seconds but drawing the silence out for over a minute before moving one of his pieces.

"Checkmate."

Harry frowned, staring hard at the chessboard in front of him. His shoulders slumped as he realized his mistake.

"Good game, though. Maybe you'll be able to beat me eventually," said Severus as he stretched, grinning as Harry put the chess pieces back in piece. The two had discovered that the TV did not hold much appeal for either of them, and instead had turned to other ways to pass their time. Teaching Harry to play chess had proved far easier than Severus had imagined, and he noticed, rather impressed, that the boy picked up on it rather quickly. Of course, Severus was able to beat him easily, but Harry was getting better every day.

Harry had been staying with Severus for about a week now. Severus had planned on contacting Dumbledore right away, but every day something caused the thought to slip from his mind or be pushed to the back of it. The pair had become a bit more comfortable with each other, Harry shedding some of his extreme shyness and responding to Severus with more than one-word answers. For the first time in a long time, Severus was eating hot meals on a regular basis. A twinge of guilt always ran through him as he saw Harry's short figure near the stove, but Harry only smiled and assured him that he enjoyed cooking; in fact, it was one of the only chores his aunt and uncle gave him that he enjoyed.

As the thought of Harry's aunt and uncle entered his mind, an uncomfortable feeling shifted in his stomach. Another thing he had been putting off was talking to Harry more about his relatives. Besides the initial conversation they had had about why he had run away, the topic had yet to be explored. Severus couldn't help but think it was irresponsible of him. After all, shouldn't he contact them and explain what had happened to Harry? Even if they weren't the most loving of guardians?

"Harry?" called Severus, deciding that it would be best to get this conversation over with.

Harry looked up from where he sat, diligently putting the chess pieces back to their proper places.

"Yes?"

"Could you come here for a minute?"

Harry's eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity as he walked over and perched himself on the couch, nearly a foot away from Severus.

"I think we should talk more about your relatives." There, he had said it. Inwardly wincing, Severus kept his face emotionless as he noted the way Harry's face had drained of color.

"Are you…am I going back there?" he said, biting his lip and peering up at Severus through his fringe. Severus scowled at the nervous expression on Harry's face; he had meant to make this conversation easy.

"No," said Severus shortly, hoping he wasn't making a promise he couldn't keep. "I just need to know more about them."

Harry remained silent, his fingers fiddling with a stray thread on his sleeve. The silence stretched on for a few minutes longer before Harry said quietly, "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with the basics," said Severus, hoping to ease the boy into the conversation. "What are their names?"

Even that question took the boy some time to answer. "Petunia and Vernon. Dursley." His green eyes were fixed firmly in his lap as he spoke, as if even looking at Severus might get him sent back to them.

Severus's eyes flashed at the name Petunia. The name was enough to release a flood of emotions, memories of Lily and his childhood flicking briefly before his eyes. It was almost like he was a child again, Petunia's sneering face block Lily from his view and pulling her along home with her. The sudden shock of emotions was unexpected, his hands balling themselves into fists.

Harry eyed him nervously and moved back a few inches, a guarded look creeping into his eyes. Severus calmed down enough to realize that he had frightened the boy; gritting his teeth in frustration, he attempted to soothe Harry's unease.

"I used to know someone named Petunia. I didn't like her very much."

"Well I don't like her very much either," mumbled Harry, then snapped his mouth shut.

"Why don't you like her very much?" asked Severus, tone neutral.

Harry paused even longer this time, indecision hovering over him. What if Severus agreed with Aunt Petunia and sent him back?

Severus didn't press the boy for answers. He merely leaned back into the couch, working to present an open and approachable figure to the boy. Working with death eaters in training at Hogwarts had required a careful measure of their emotions, and he often had to use his body language to present himself the right way. The thought of the Death Eaters sent a nervous tumbling feeling through his stomach, but Severus did his best to push it down. That was a thought for another day.

"I told you how I do weird stuff," Harry began, a reluctant twist spinning his words. "They don't like it. Tell me I'm a freak." The last sentence was mumbled once again, Harry's eyes now firmly glued to his shoes. Severus felt a pang of empathy go through him. If what Harry was talking about was like anything he had to go through, it was awful. Every memory of his father's explosions about magic were etched firmly in his mind, no matter how much Occlumency he practiced.

"You're not," said Severus, his voice calm and steady. Harry's eyes flickered upward for a second, doubt shadowing them.

"You don't know that."

Severus wanted so badly to explain things to Harry. To tell him that he was a wizard, that what he was experiencing was perfectly normal, and that his relatives were completely wrong. But the words stuck in his throat, and instead he simply said, "Yes, I do."

Harry remained silent, his shoes scuffing along the floor. Severus braced himself for the next question he knew he must ask, gritting his teeth before letting the words spill out.

"Have they ever hurt you?"

Suddenly, Harry stopped moving his feet, all fidgeting ceasing. Then he stood abruptly, his thin shoulders stooping as he nearly whispered, "I don't want to talk about this anymore." Without saying anything else he walked out of the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he made a speedy retreat down the hall.

The exit had confirmed Severus's worst fears. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to talk about, the shame and loneliness that could course through you at any moment. Those relatives of his must have hurt him for being a wizard, the notion compelling Severus to go to their house right now and hex them senseless.

Instead, he stood and made his way rather clumsily toward the kitchen. He didn't notice his hands were shaking until he reached for a bottle to pour himself a drink. Sighing, he set the bottle down. He couldn't drink around a kid, even if he knew how to control himself. He needed his complete awareness to try and find sort of solution to the puzzle set before him. If he tried to talk to Harry about his relatives again, he was sure that the boy would seize up just as he had today.

A strange thought flitted across his mind. Petunia…was it possible that it was some relation of Lily's? Perhaps an aunt or cousin to the girls, from whom the Petunia he knew had gotten her name from? It would seem ridiculous to him if it weren't for the fact that the boy possessed the most stunning eyes he had ever seen: Lily's eyes. But if it were the case that he was related to Lily, why would his relatives treat him so? Severus knew Lily's parents. They were kind, warm, and always willing to have Severus over. A smile crawled across his face as he remember sitting in Lily's kitchen, her mother hovering near them and bringing them plates of cookies and little cakes to munch on, making sure Severus was comfortable. And her father, the gentle sway of his voice and the way he made Severus feel as if his opinion was the most important in the world, asking him what he thought about this or that whenever he stayed over for dinner. How could anyone related to those lovely people have a relative who treated their nephew harshly.

Ah, but Petunia Evans was related to them. That thought gave him a shred of certainty to cling to. They were the parents of Petunia too, after all. Perhaps this other Petunia was where Petunia Evans had gotten her mean streak.

The idea was only plausible by the slimmest lines of reasoning. But no matter how slim, it was still there. And if it were true…

Severus ran his fingers through his hair. These ideas were making his brain go mad. Taking a deep breath, he tried to think of the most rational thing he could do here. He would just have to find out if it were true. But how could he do that? Unless he contacted Lily.

A tight circle of pain encircled his chest, so powerful that he sat down again. Severus couldn't remember the last time Lily had spoken to him, or even written him a letter. Writing her now would tear up all the emotions he tried to keep buried so deeply, the anger, regret, bitterness, depression, and uncertainty that tormented his dreams and kept him from sleeping some nights. Severus dug his nails into his palms to keep himself steady, closing his eyes briefly.

When he had gathered himself together, Severus stood again, this time filled with purpose. He had to pause for a moment to remember where the paper and quills where now, for Harry had reorganized everything. Opening the correct drawer, Severus snatched out the needed materials and made his way back to the couch. His quill soon dripped in black ink, and he held it over the parchment for a while before finally setting it down.

Dear Lily,

He began.