"Can I be? Was I there?
It felt so crystal in the air.
I still want to drown whenever you leave;
Please teach me gently how to breathe."
~ Shelter, the xx
Dead
Dead.
Lily Evans was dead.
No matter how many times the phrase echoed around in his head, Severus Snape could not understand the words he'd been forced to hear. The words he had never thought he would hear in his lifetime.
Dead.
The word was not for Lily. Lily was life. Her vivid red hair didn't even begin to reflect what a lively and vibrant girl she was. Her personality had always shone through, even during the darkest of times. Even at her worst, there was so much passion and so much life in Lily that her bubbly personality could turn even the most miserable person light-hearted and happy, if even only for the briefest of moments.
Severus was living proof of this. Though he had always been, and would always continue to be, a truly miserable and pained individual, it had been Lily Evans, and only Lily Evans, that had ever made him feel genuine happiness. He valued her more than he had ever valued anybody else, including his own life.
Lily was life, not death.
And life without Lily was not an option. It was not a possibility.
The words continued to echo around his mind. Each word hurt more than the previous one, and Severus was so consumed by pain and guilt that the world around him melted away. The Death Eaters vanished—they did not matter anymore. The Dark Lord's entire cause and existence now meant nothing to Severus. Lily was his everything. It had always been Lily, and only Lily.
Severus felt the breath leave his body. He felt the crippling pain and emotion stir in his chest, the icy chill that crept over his skin, engulfing his entire body. Never in his life had he felt so much emotion, so much emotional pain. Sorrow, regret, guilt, disbelief, and pain... Constant pain.
How could this be true?
"Severus," somebody said cautiously.
Suddenly he was snapped back into the real world. He was in a room. A few panicked Death Eaters surrounded him. He didn't understand where he was. He didn't even know who was addressing him.
"Did you hear me? James and Lily Potter are d—"
"DON'T," Severus screamed. A wild, crazed look lined his face as he turned, panting, to face the nameless Death Eater. "I heard you the first time," he snarled in frustration.
He couldn't bear to hear the words again. If Lily's death was spoken of too many times out loud then it would be real. And Severus would do all he could to pretend that this reality was not possible. Because if Lily Evans was dead then so was he.
The Death Eaters who remained seemed unsettled by his outburst. Severus Snape was not one to show such emotion. He represented boredom and mystery, never passion.
"There's more, though—the Dark Lord has fallen. The boy—"
But Severus could no longer listen. He could not think of anything other than Lily.
Dead.
He was suddenly aware of the silence in the room. "What's wrong, Severus?" a voice spoke up. "You don't care for the Potters' deaths, do you?" It was a cruel, sneering voice. "Surely you're not troubled by their deaths." Whoever was speaking was taunting him.
"I can honestly say that I do not care," Severus answered in his usual bored, monotonous voice. And for once, this was no pretence. Severus Snape did not care for the Potters in the slightest. It was Lily Evans who was his everything.
"Well, you certainly seem—"
But what Severus certainly seemed like to this Death Eater was never heard by his own ears, for he had fled his whereabouts immediately.
As he apparated into Godric's Hollow, the loud pop very nearly drowned out the echoes of those haunting words: Lily Evans is dead. But then the truth came flooding back. His knees trembled, and it required all his strength not to sink to the cold stone floor.
The strength and motivation to move from the spot where he stood were almost too much for Severus to bear. Just around the corner, the Potters' house stood. Everything would become clear once he turned the corner—what was real and what was not real would become evident. That was something that Severus could not bear. Yet he knew he must. If not for him, then for Lily.
Each step was painful and tiring. The truth was looming ever closer, and he had still not mastered control over his breathing just yet.
And all of a sudden, there it was. The terrifying remains of the house where the Potter family had lived. Severus was certain he could feel no more pain and distress than he did in that moment. But it was still a possibility, was it not? Lily could have fled. Perhaps it was a simple misjudgement. If James Potter was dead then so be it, but just maybe Lily had survived. A flicker of hope sprang up in his chest.
And then he was striding to the house, black cloak billowing around his ankles. Severus was consumed by an overwhelming power and determination. Lily Evans was not dead. He knew in his heart that it simply wasn't true.
The inky blackness of the night surrounded him, but nothing could hold him back now. The cold air was crisp and sharp, like crystal. It pierced his skin—his pale, icy skin—yet the warmth that he always associated with Lily protected him.
He was at the door.
James Potter lay cold and dead on the floor by his feet, but Lily was nowhere in sight. She had fled. She was free.
Severus searched the house, room by room, his heart pounding wildly. The entire house was deserted. The Dark Lord was nowhere in sight, but neither was Lily. She was alive.
And then he heard it. The unmistakable and heartbreaking cry of a child—a young boy, no more than about one year old. Before he was aware of what he was doing, Severus was on the stairs, climbing ever closer to what he hoped more than anything was a room occupied by a single child. He did not dwell on the fact that he knew Lily Evans would never abandon her son. She was too full of love to do such a thing. It mattered not; he was no longer concerned with rational thinking.
He flung the door open with so much might that the crying baby was temporarily silenced. Severus froze. The sight that lay before him was so horribly disturbing, so hauntingly distressing, that the pain and emotion he'd been locking inside himself were suddenly too much to bear—it burst from him like a bird taking flight.
Lily Evans lay before him, every bit as pale and lifeless as her worthless husband had appeared downstairs.
Dead.
"NO!" Severus could no longer muster the strength he knew that Lily deserved from him. His knees had given way the instant he'd seen her pale, beautiful face. He crumpled to the floor like a tissue. So fragile. So weak.
He held her icy body close to his, rocking gently, with loud sobs of despair coursing through every inch of his being. All the pain Severus had ever felt in his entire lifetime combined could not equal what he felt in that moment, as Lily Evans' limp, lifeless body lay in his arms.
A thousand memories flooded back into his mind—the first day he'd met Lily, and every interaction they'd ever shared after that moment. He recalled every hello they'd shared, and every goodbye. He was aware of the bitterness and remorse he'd felt every time he'd witnessed her in the clutches of James Potter—the feeling of drowning and suffocating.
The tears fell in a continuous stream, and Severus wanted more than anything to drown in them. Lily was life, and life without Lily was nothing. Every breath was like a jagged dagger piercing his heart, over and over again. Death was the only way for him now. It was only Lily who could save him, only Lily who could teach him how to breathe again. And if Lily was dead, then to breathe any longer was not an option.
He cared not what had become of the Dark lord. Severus was free from him now, but he would never, never, be free from the pain that came with the truth of Lily's death. Freedom and pretence could not save him now.
Dead.
Everything was Lily. It was only Lily.
Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 1—Round 2
Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Beater 1
Additional Prompts: Pretence, Freedom and "I can honestly say that I do not care."