I held Lily in my arms, not daring to hide my misery from the crying baby. I ignored him; he was the sole reason my Lily was like this. He was the reason the light had left her eyes, the reason why her cheeks obtained an ashen color. I hate you more than I hate your father, you imbecile.
Sobs racked my body, partially from pain but also from my lack of acceptance. How could my flower be withered when she was only twenty-one? Time passed and I will never know how long I spelt there, just holding the one person who had once brought a light into my life. You promised to protect them. You are a wicked, foolish, old man.
Somehow, I ended up in Dumbledore's presence after her death. I hadn't wanted to face him, not only because of what had happened but the temptation that would linger in me to curse him once I did see him. "You said you would keep her safe!" I rightfully accused, finding myself in tears once again, despite wanting nothing more than to keep my emotions under control.
"Lily and James put their faith in the wrong person, rather like you, Severus. The boy survives," he insisted, turning from the window.
Even that arrogant low life, James Potter, didn't deserve death. My Lily didn't deserve death. Yet there she was, cold from death and never to say another word. How could I have been so foolish, so blind to the fact that I could have protected her? All I had managed to do was save the one reminder of her.
"He doesn't need protection; the Dark Lord is gone!" My hands shook fiercely, my will to protect another Potter dying as Lily had. My Lily. But her angelic voice seemed to reach out to me from the ashes of death and whisper in my ear. 'If you don't protect him, who will?'
"Sirius was the godfather but the Order is too dangerous for a baby, especially for Harry. Although He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is gone, the remaining Death Eaters have not given up their cause. I know you believe that your friendship with Lily disappeared in your fifth year, but she made a request that I must ask you to fulfill now." His voice had moved from sorrow to something more. I couldn't quite place it, however; not with the pain that resonated inside me, threatened to tear me to pieces.
My mouth opened to speak but failed me for a few moments. "You cannot expect to do her last request. I would have to.." I would have to accept that she is gone. I would have to accept that she will never see her wish fulfilled.
"She said that if Sirius could not raise the child safely, she wanted you to protect him, treat him as though he were your own. She knows that you were not the man you were when you joined Voldemort's forces. I expect that you will make sure he grows well. Will you do this for her, Severus?"
Almost unwillingly, my eyes closed shut, my wand itching to curse him, to hex him into oblivion. How could he even have the thought of making me raise that foul excuse of a child. And even if I did take him in, I would be cruel beyond all of my means; I would make sure he suffered. "You ask too much. I could never be a good guardian for him. He would be much better off with Remus or perhaps his intentional godfather."
"If you truly loved her.." he began, receiving the idea that he didn't need to continue on from my expression.
I took a deep breath, meeting his eyes once again. "I swear on my life, if you use me for some scheme like I know you have in the past. You will not use me again. Do you understand that?"
The Headmaster's worry lines disappeared slowly but not entirely. "I assure you, Severus, this is not some trick. Things in the war are not as desperate as they used to be." As far as Dumbledore is concerned, that is an apology.
"Where is he?" I inquired, looking around for any sign of the boy.
"With Professor McGonagall. I will make sure he is given to you tonight; being as this is slightly unprepared, I can't have a time. Just be ready for the boy."
I sighed, putting a hand on my forehead, trying to lock my emotions back into their rightful place. "He will need a new name. He can never again be called Harry or Potter. Is that clear? If he is to survive, he must be far different than either of them."
"He has her eyes.." he began, his tone beginning to grow doubtful of me.
"Then I will lie!" I practically yelled, my hand moving from its place. My head moved to meet his eyes again, my teeth clenched together. "Do not underestimate one who can hide from even the Dark Lord himself."
Anger surged through me, almost the violent storm to ever pass through my mind. How dare he mention her when he knew that I was barely obtaining my state. Before her death, I wore my mask against my brokenness like one would wear a cloak on their shoulder in the rain. But the mask was of thin glass and now in shards. How could I piece it back together?
He made no move to argue with me or to insist that I handle myself better. Was it just that he knew I couldn't, that I had spent the last few days staring into nothing? I closed my eyes, Apparating out of the room and finding my own. My hands shook, as well as my body.
And even as the hours passed, as I sat down in a chair to gather myself, I couldn't. I still sat there, quivering as though I had first found my Blossom, laying its withered petals. I would be in charge of Harry James Potter; the son of my rival and the son of my Lily would be in my hands. How on Earth would I take care of him?
But it became very clear the moment that Professor McGonagall placed him into my trembling hands. Even as I wanted to loathe him with all of my being, to lay him upon the concrete in a street of London, I couldn't help but find a comfort in his presence. The loneliness that had gripped me only moments prior to him being surrendered to me seemed to be momentarily forgotten as I looked into his bright, jade green eyes.
Oddly enough, when he smiled at me and grabbed to pull my long, jet black hair, I didn't frown or even raise an eyebrow. But do not mistake me as a man who would smile because of a child; instead, I merely let one corner of my mouth twitch. But it was the same twitch that Harry- no, Lucan Lilianic Snape- caused to form over years of my emotionless state.