A/N- Just a drabble for the Potter!Wars ficathon over at LiveJournal (: My prompt: Snape/Lily; Deathly Hallows; ghosts are real. I'm really glad with how this came out, so tell me what you think!

Disclaimer- Hahaha... that's a good one. I own nothing.

He sees her, sometimes, when the Order is at Grimmauld Place arguing about whether or not to let the kids in, who to send on the next mission, what dress Fleur should wear. (He knows the last one isn't about the Order, but they always end up discussing something about the wedding at their meetings and frankly, he thinks the other adults should be more professional.)

She places a hand on his shoulder when she notices him scowling at the other members-a gesture that he had seen Molly give Arthur many a time or two.

And so, as she flashes him a toothy grin and tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear that would put any Weasley to shame, he smiles at her, and tries to focus on the sight of her hand on his shoulder, and not the empty feeling that has settled over that limb.


He sees her, sometimes, when he's pacing Dumbledore's-no, his-office and feels truely sorry for what he's done. He didn't want to kill perhaps the only man who'd shown him kindness every second they were acquainted. He didn't (no matter how insufferable the members could be at times) want to be booted out of the Order.

Him, his place in the Order of the Phoenix, made him feel like at least a part of his life had counted, had mattered for something.

She holds his hand and paces with him, thumbing circles in his palm and murmuring things for only him to hear. He really wants to kiss her; wants to take her in his arms and profess his love for her, profess everything he'd ever felt for her so she could know that he wasn't all bad. Just a little stained, that's all.

But he doesn't. He knows not to overstep his bounderies, because it's happened before. He gets too close, she disappears, and he has to either drown himself in firewhisky or mumble himself into insanity before she returns. And it's a long wait trying to kill yourself with a glass bottle.


He sees her, sometimes, when he watches Slughorn brew up things he wishes he still could, but his hands grew stiff after feeling a death curse flow through them and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to make potions efficiently ever again. Sometimes, he watches Slughorn, almost as if living through him. He thinks he'd give up Headmaster to be able to brew again. He knows he's give up Headmaster for her.

She comes up and sits by him and he thinks about how she would have been amazing at that stand. Hogwart's Potions Master and Potions Mistress, the two of them. He thinks maybe that could have been, that they could have been-

She squeezes his left arm where she knows the Mark is, and he inwardly cringes, resentful. She doesn't notice, but instead latches onto his arm as he runs a hand through her hair, and for once, she doesn't fade at his contact.

He thinks maybe he's getting through to her, and maybe, all the voices in his head sounding strangly like Molly and Mad-Eye and Remus and Minerva saying he should take a visit to St. Mungos are wrong.


He sees her the most when he knows he's been sad for too long and has had too many shots of firewhisky. (No, that's not right, because he hasn't picked up a glass all day. He must be drunk on something else, then, he thinks. Something... intangible, he thinks.) He sees her more clearly, more wholly when he thinks it might be his last time.

He smiles. She's here tonight. He can see her clear as day, bright and smiling like she never even left at all and for one sharp, quick moment, he almost believes she hadn't.

It isn't until the serpent strikes and he is back in his right mind that Severus realizes Nagini and Lily look nothing alike.


That was the last time he ever saw her. He thinks she must have gone to Heaven, then.

That sounds like a lovely place, he thinks, as his skin starts to catch fire.