Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

A/N: First of all, I know what you're thinking, another Severitus! I would have put it on the summary but reading the guidelines I noticed the only one I really follow is the one about Severus being Harry's father, so I decided not to classify it as a Severitus even if it's along those lines.

I started to write this fic quite some time ago, before the fifth book was out, so it will not have spoilers for the last book.

Another warning before I, Snape is going to be OOC, some of the other characters probably too. If you don't like it, just don't read but don't complain about it, you have been warned.

I think that's all, hope you like it.


Chapter 1.

Summer from 1st to 2nd year, before Dobby's first appearance

Harry groaned while he slowly walked up the stairs. After a small breakfast, Aunt Petunia had ordered him to clean out the attic, which hadn't been done for years. Harry was dreading that work, because he knew the large room was filled with big, heavy boxes, most of them containing Dudley's old things. It would be hell to do it in one day, but he knew that if he didn't manage, Uncle Vernon would be furious and he probably wouldn't get anything to eat for dinner. Not that he usually got much food, but it was better than nothing. Finally, arriving at the small door that lead to the highest part of the house, the dark haired boy sighed and climbed up the narrow steps. Just as he had feared, the large room was filled with boxes that had been simply thrown around and were now covered with heavy layers of dust. Putting the cleaning utensils aside, the first thing he did was walk over to one of the small windows and open it widely. He couldn't start moving things around with so much dust and no proper ventilation. Once the air in the attic was semi-refreshed, he started to try and clean away the worst of the dust. It took him nearly two hours before the room was clean enough that he dared to start moving the large boxes. Even then, he had spent several minutes coughing, trying to breathe air instead of dust. It was nearly noon when Harry took a break and went to the kitchen to retrieve his meagre lunch that consisted of a sandwich with cheese and half an apple. He was sitting on the floor in the attic, drinking some water that he had brought up with him, when a small box drew his attention. Unlike the other boxes, this one was made of wood and its size was much smaller. The thing that picked his curiosity was the box that was half hidden under the other boxes. It looked like as if someone had tried to hide it. Frowning, Harry couldn't help but pick up the box. It fell strange, like it didn't belong in the dusty attic. Seeing that there seemed to be some writing on the top, he carefully took one of the rags and brushed the dust away. He nearly dropped the box in surprise. There, written innocently on the lid, was his mother's name. With trembling hands, he went to open the box but stopped. His hands were extremely dirty and he didn't know what he would find inside. Sighing, he put the box down, there was no other way, he would have to wait until he had finished and cleaned up. With trembling hand, he put the wooden box on the floor next to the door and went back to work, moving even faster than he had done before, his curiosity making him work faster than he had ever. He was surprised when he heard the front door open just when he put the last box in place. It seemed he had finished just in time since he could hear Uncle Vernon talking with Aunt Petunia downstairs.

Walking down the stairs with the wooden box hidden between the folds of his T-shirt, he nodded to Uncle Vernon who scowled down at him.

"Finished, boy?"

Harry stopped and nodded slightly. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

The large man frowned in distaste. "Go clean up, I will not have you dirtying the whole house."

Harry nodded again and went to his room, where he hid the box under his bed and immediately went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Once he was dressed in clean clothes, he went downstairs and prepared supper for his relatives.

It was not until after he had finished cleaning up the kitchen when he was allowed to go to his room, with express orders to stay there so as to not bother the family. Harry did so happily, as he had no desire to stay downstairs, besides, his curiosity was finally getting the better of him, and he longed to open his mother's box. He forced himself to change into his pyjamas and let Hedwig out of her cage before he settled comfortably on his bed and opened the box. The first thing he saw was a stack of pictures, and smiling slightly, he picked them out of the box so he could look at them properly. His smile turned into a frown when he saw his mother standing next to a young man who was not his father. The man was slightly familiar but he couldn't place the pale face, black hair and eyes that were twinkling happily. The man wore a small smile on his thin lips, looking in amusement at his companion. Slowly, Harry looked at the next picture; once again the man was standing there, hugging his mother closely. He didn't understand. His mother and the stranger seemed to be very close. they almost seemed to be.

No, it couldn't be, his mother had been in love with his father; they probably were just very good friends, nothing more. He had nearly convinced himself of that when the next picture destroyed that thought. Friends didn't hold each other like that, friends didn't kiss each other like that, and friends especially didn't kiss each other like that while wearing wedding robes. With trembling hands, he turned the picture around and the remaining colour in his face left. There, written in small writing, said: 'Severus Snape and Lily Evans-Snape on their wedding day.'

The pictures fell out from nerveless fingers. It couldn't be, it had to be a nightmare, a mistake, something. but he knew it wasn't, the picture didn't lie, his mother had been at one time, married to his Potions Master. The one that hated him with everything he had, the one who made his live a living hell at every chance he got. Trying to calm himself down, he carefully picked up the pictures that had fallen on his lap and turned his attention back to the remaining objects that lay in the box. There was a small, black jewellery box, a thin book, and what seemed to be a stack of letters. Biting his lower lip, Harry's hands picked up the book, and he opened it. Blinking, he saw that the book seemed to be a journal, a journal that had belonged to his late mother. Closing the book, he bit his lip harder, should he read it? Did he have the right to read something as personal as that? He couldn't decide. It wasn't like his mother would have a problem with it since she was dead, but on the other hand, should he breach her personal life like that? Since he didn't seem to be able to decide, he picked up the letters. Glancing down at the first one, he noticed that it was written by the familiar scrawl his potions master used. Quickly, he put them down again. If he couldn't bring himself to read his mother's journal, there was no way he would read something as personal as the letters the man had sent his mother. Trying to forget about his confused thoughts, he turned to the last thing that filled the box. Opening the small, black box, he couldn't help but gasp in surprise. Lying there in the velvety box was a small chain with a silvery snake. The snake seemed incredibly real, the small scales glinting under the dimmed light of his room. With trembling fingers, he brushed the top of the snake's head and watched in fascination as it started to glow dimly with a silvery light. His trembling immediately eased up as he started to feel safer and more protected than he had ever felt. He didn't know why, but something told him to pick up the charm, and he put the chain around his neck. The chain immediately shortened so the charm was resting comfortably between his collarbones. Harry stayed still for a long moment, simply drawing comfort from the charm. He had never felt like that, and he had to admit, he was a bit scared; why would a simple charm make him feel like that? On the other hand, he had to take into account that it was probably magical, so it shouldn't be such a surprise. His eyes were once again drawn towards the book. Should he read it? He had so many questions, and he really didn't know whom he should turn to. Dumbledore? The old man had probably better things to do, and what's more, he had refused to answer his questions at the end of last year, so it was probably unlikely that he would answer them now. McGonagall? No, he didn't feel comfortable enough around her to ask such personal questions, besides he didn't know if the professor had known his parents outside of class. The Dursleys? They would probably have panic attacks if he just mentioned his mother's name, he really didn't want to be locked up in his room for the rest of his summer. Snape? That thought was even worse than the Dursleys; the man would probably curse him to hell and back for simply sticking his nose in other man's business, especially since he seemed to be a large part of the problem. Maybe Hagrid. but no, this seemed to be a secret and everyone knew that the large man couldn't keep a secret to save his life. There really wasn't much of a choice. He could either forget about it or read the journal.

Five minutes later, Harry settled comfortably against his pillows with the thin book in his hands. He was ready to face anything that he was about to read. at least, he hoped he was.

To be continued.

A/N: Thanks to my beta-reader Vinnie.