Hello, everyone, it's been a really long time! I know there are a lot of other things that I should be finishing up, particularly my Kuroshitsuji fic titled Eden, but after watching the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, and bawling my eyes out during Snape's death and during his memories, I felt the need to write this. Anyways, this is a slightly twisted HarryxSnape oneshot. Just to be clear, the first part of the fic takes place during Harry's first year, the last part during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Neither the books nor the movies are mine.

Warnings: angst, slash, and un-beta'd goodness.


Heritage

By Eden Lies


He has his mother's eyes, Severus Snape thought to himself the very first day that Harry Potter had walked into his potions class. He has his mother's eyes. Even as Harry Potter turned away from him and took a seat, and even as other students began filing into the dank classroom, the potions master could not bring himself to think of anything else.

He had his mother's eyes.

When the door to the classroom finally remained closed, and every student had a seat, the time came for the professor to begin his lesson. Trembling, barely managing to pull himself together, Snape rose from his seat at his desk and began his usual belittling speech. What the students did not know was that his bitter speech lacked its usual viciousness, its usual contempt and disdain. What the students did not know was that, hidden away in folds of stark black robes, their professor was clenching his shaking fists.

What the students did not know was that, at this very moment, their scary, bat-like professor had his mind in another place, in another time.

What the students did not know was that, sitting amongst them, there was a boy staring at him through the eyes of his unrequited love.

Those eyes, her eyes, gazed steadily at him, piercing.

He found that he could not look away and he could not and those eyes-

"Professor?"

He recognized that lilting voice. It is his young, aristocratic godson, Draco Malfoy. His godson, his godson. The son of his closest friend, Lucius Malfoy. Although he cared greatly for the boy, Draco would never take Lily's place in his heart. Lily was first, would always be first. He momentarily entertained a somewhat random thought- what did Harry Potter's voice sound like? Would it be, in any way, reminiscent of Lily's gentle, soothing-

"Professor, I have a question."

Barely tearing himself away from Lily's emerald eyes, the potions master turned to his godson and beckoned for him to go on.

"Well, I was wondering, when is it that we will be learning to brew Calming Draughts?"

"Calming Draughts are included in the Fourth Year curriculum, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, and then added, "Though the brewing process is not actually complex, the ingredients required for Calming Draughts can be slightly dangerous if not dealt with correctly, and therefore is best left for older students."

Satisfied with the response, Draco nodded and lapsed back into his silent note-taking.

His fists unclenched slightly beneath his robes. Normal conversation was good. It allowed him to take his mind off of those eyes. As the minutes passed and Snape continued on with his dry lecture, he could almost pretend that there were no bewitching emerald eyes burning into him from the left side of his classroom.

Just when Severus believed he was finally getting a handle on his emotions, he heard rapid whispering and shuffling. Straining his ears, he caught snippets of what the culprits were discussing.

"-just like a giant bat, isn't he?"

"-be quiet, Ronald, or he'll hear us!"

"-you know that-"

"-was glaring at me earlier, do you think-"

The potions master's patience finally snaps.

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Mister Weasley. Your endless prattling and gossiping should be kept out of my classroom. Do not think, even for a moment, that you will get away with any sort of disturbances."

The girl, Hermione Granger, had the grace to look sorry, but Harry Potter and his friend Ronald Weasley only appeared to be angry. Looking briefly again at Harry's- Lily's- eyes, Snape began to speak again, and he tried to stop himself, he really did, but the bitterness was getting to him-

"But then again, Mister Potter, your father would have been proud of your disruptive behavior."

He knew he was being vengeful, unnecessarily cruel. But he could not stop himself.

"After all, he, just like you, was always above listening to rules."

He was purposely trying to raise the boy's ire, trying to make him lash out-

And it worked.

"My father was a great man!" Harry cried, emerald eyes ablaze with anger, "don't you dare speak of him like that!"

Hermione was trying to calm Harry down, talk sense into him, but to both Harry and Severus, her efforts went unnoticed.

"I knew him, boy." Severus hissed, "I knew firsthand that he was a monster. Don't you speak as if you knew him. He died before you got the chance to find out what a bully he was-"

Suddenly, Snape realized with a surreal sort of clarity that he was dredging up his past in front of a very confused audience. He was dredging up his scarred, hateful memories in front of a group of frightened first years. Those eyes, he thought venomously, they made him do things he would usually never consider. Damn those eyes. Damn the boy that owned them. Damn his father, for having taken his Lily-

"Mister Potter, I would like to speak with you after class."

Turning his back to Harry, the potions master struggled through the end of his lecture. In the back of his mind, he knew he was speaking in circles, and that he was leaving out crucial information, but he really could not bring himself to care.

When the class period was finally over, and the students began pouring out of his room, Snape finally allowed himself a small, quiet sigh. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples briefly. He couldn't believe that-

"I thought you said you wanted a word with me, professor?"

Harry Potter. That voice, mocking him.

Onyx eyes snapped open, frustrated, irate.

"You are just like your father," Snape hissed, "Always playing at being the best, always disregarding rules-"

He began to pace forward, towards the skinny, pale boy. Oh, how he wished to hit him. To strangle some sense into him, to see fear in those eyes, to see those eyes back in Lily's face-

"You're just jealous of him, that you couldn't be as good as he was-"

Blind rage, that's what he called it. It took him over, consumed him. When he finally realized what he was doing, he already had the boy by the shoulders, pushed up against the wall, and was just about to pull his fist forward in a punch.

But suddenly, something shifted in Harry Potter's eyes. It could have been fear, ice-cold terror, but all of a sudden all Severus could think about was he had his mother's eyes.

All of a sudden, it wasn't Harry Potter he had pinned against the wall, but Lily. It wasn't Harry's trembling he was feeling against his body, but Lily's. It wasn't Harry's shoulders he was holding onto, but Lily's. It wasn't Harry's face he was mapping with his fingertips, but Lily's. And it wasn't Harry's lips he had beneath his own, but Lily's. Lily's.

Lily was fighting against him, against his advances. He held on, desperate to plunder, to continue, to take back what had been stolen from him. It was only when a frightened professor managed to slip from Lily's lips in between bruising kisses that ice-cold terror poured through Severus.

It was not Lily he was holding against him.

He broke away from the boy instantly, and took three uneven steps backwards. Breathe, he told himself, breathe. How dare I how could I he is only a student-

He felt like he was about to be sick.

His stomach turned and his heart clenched painfully in his chest when he met Harry Potter's terrified, injured, and paralyzed gaze.

"Don't look at me," Severus whispered brokenly, bending into himself. He was a teenager again, forsaken, utterly alone. Lily did not want him, never wanted him.

"Don't look at me with those eyes. Just don't look at me."

He distantly hears the heavy wooden doors to his potions classroom slide shut, but still all Severus can think about is of his torment, of how he always made all the wrong choices, of how he's going to throw up-

He never wanted Lily to look at him with such despair and betrayal in her eyes.

He has his mother's eyes.


As Severus Snape is dying, poison spreading through his system, he is suddenly met with someone frantically shaking him, trying get his attention, trying to stop his unconsciousness from setting in. Professor Snape, the familiar voice cries, please don't die on me!

It is the person he least, or perhaps, the most expects.

It is Harry Potter.

And more than anything, the worry and the silent forgiveness in Harry's eyes allows Severus to hold on, even if only briefly.

He never once believed that the boy would be able to forgive him for his unspeakable crime, for his terrifying transgression. But then again, he supposes that he has been wrong all along, and that Harry had always been much more like his mother than his father. Lily, always forgiving. Lily, always understanding. He was never like his father.

It is moments like these in which Severus Snape questions heritage, love, and hate.

He needs Harry to know. He needs the boy to know why he did it, why he could not control himself on that day so many years ago. He needs the boy to know that he is truly sorry.

It is with this thought in mind that he hoarsely begs the boy to take his memories. Quickly and obediently, Harry presses the tip of his wand against his professor's temple and extracts a silvery strand of memories.

And when he feels death truly, fully gripping him, he reaches up to Harry's face, brushes his fingers against the boy's eyelids, and whispers his last few words. Not apologies, just words.

"You have your mother's eyes."

If there was one thing Severus Snape would regret even in death, it was never being able to tell Harry Potter that he was sorry.


Fin.