A/N

Happy Saturday, folks.

I know this chapter is short, I'm sorry — but on the upside, the next chapter I post will be very long. (Yes, my next chapter is the first potions class of the 1991-1992 school year, which was during the Philosopher's Stone. Yes, this will remain third person omniscent through Professor Snape's perspective. And yes, I am definitely looking forwards to the next chapter I post.)

My little "thank you" list is the same as it was before - thank you to Quirinus, for supporting me when I'm unmotivated and for being an amazing brother (and maybe reading this, I have no idea); thank you to Bonnie, for reading through all of my crappy writing and offering her invaluable feedback; and thank you most of all to my mum, who will never read this, for being the most supportive person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and for letting me read the Harry Potter books to her when she has a headache.

Anyhow, if you want to get ahold of me, please DM my friend Bonnie on Discord (Loki Laufeyson (née Odinson)#1444) and POLITELY ask her for my current username (yes, I change it a lot, apologies). 

Now - onto the story!

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November 1, 1981

Snape was slumped forwards in a chair, and Dumbledore stood next to him, looking exceedingly grim. After a moment or two, Snape raised his face, and he looked as though he had lived a hundred years of misery in the days since the meeting on the wild hilltop. "I thought . . . you were going . . . to keep her . . . safe . . ." He said, voice cracked with grief. 'You said you would keep her — them safe.'  "She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

Snape's breathing was shallow. 'You know nothing of what I did to try and protect her. I begged Lord Voldemort to spare her, I begged you to protect her, I did everything in my power to keep her safe.'  "Her boy survives," Dumbledore said. Snape warded off the news with a slight flick of the head, rather like flicking off an irksome fly. Dumbledore continued, "Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?" Snape finally met Dumbledore's pale blue eyes, his black ones bloodshot and filled with tears, "Don't!" 'Don't remind me of what I can never have!'  He cried. "Gone . . . dead . . ."

Dumbledore's tone softened slightly, "Is this remorse, Severus?" Snape lowered his eyes, muttering, "I wish . . . I wish I were dead." 'At least then . . . I could be with Lily again.'  Dumbledore's tone became cold anew, "And what good would that do anyone? If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forwards is clear." 'My — my way forwards?'  Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain to reach Dumbledore's meaning, and the older man's words took a long time to reach him.

"What — what do you mean?" Severus asked despondently, looking back at Dumbledore. 'You think I have something still to live for?'  "You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. . . Help me protect Lily's son." 'He is in no danger; he does not need my protection. It was Lily who needed my protection, and I failed her.'  Snape moaned woefully, "He does not need protection! The Dark Lord has gone —" Dumbledore cut across Snape's words, voice suddenly tense, "The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, in which Snape regained control of his breathing once again. 'The Dark Lord — return — Her son would be in danger, and he is all I have left of her. He even has her eyes . . .'  At last, he replied, "Very well. Very well. But never — never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear . . . especially Potter's son . . . I want your word!" 'I could not bear it if James Potter's son found out, that I, his father's rival, was protecting him. The shame it would bring —'  Dumbledore looked down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face, replying quietly, "My word, Severus, that I never reveal the best of you?" 'The — the best of me? I don't —'  Dumbledore sighed, "If you insist . . ."

Snape let out a small breath, carrying with it the words, "Thank you." 'As long as he doesn't know, I can carry out my duty, faithfully serving Lily's memory.'  Dumbledore merely nodded in reply, before pacing over to the window and looking out over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. 'As long as he will never know . . .'  Snape took a deep, shuddering breath before standing up, looking as though he was bearing the weight of all the world on his shoulders. Dumbledore watched Snape's reflection, in the window's glass, as the other man wearily walked to the door of the office and descended the stairs.