Unrequited
It was raining, a proper weather for the mood outside Hogwarts. Fat wet drops cascaded from the torrid skies, drenching the young red-haired girl. Her fiery tresses clung damply to her skin, her dress was sopping wet and muddied by running through the grounds, and ruined mascara clouded her pale cheeks. And yet, she still looked beautiful.
He would never think otherwise.
He watched silently as she stood in the midst of the rains, her face raised to the heavens, her eyes closed and her rounded lips moving slightly in a silent supplication. He watched, heedless of the fact that he himself was being soaked to the bone. That didn't matter.
He'd followed her out from the Great Hall, wanting to be sure she remained safe, safe from the hands of that Potter brat. She was in love with him, that was plain, but for some unknown reason, the black-haired Gryffindor did not share the sentiment.
Fool.
It was the night of the Yule Ball, and Potter had asked a picture-perfect Ravenclaw to dance rather than the girl whose green eyes followed him wherever he went. He thought himself too good for her.
He longed to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, to wipe away her tears, to hold her until the rains ceased. But she wouldn't want him. Why would she? They were too far separated. He was in Slytherin, she in Gryffindor. She was popular and pretty; he was sallow and outcast by even his own house. It simply wasn't done.
But he could still watch her.
For seven years he had been watching her. And for seven years she had been watching Potter. Sometimes he wondered if Fate and Irony worked together to make both their lives miserable. He was fairly sure they did.
For he was sure that he would never hold her, never touch her face or stroke her red hair. And if Fate had not ensured that, he himself was about to. He couldn't just wait around forever. There were more things in store for him than that, even if he had to forcibly wrench them away for himself.
A crackle of twigs caught both of their attentions to the arrival of Potter, gallantly braving the weather to come after her. He walked up to her with that crooked smile of his and used his thumb to brush away the streaming makeup beneath her eyes. "You're crying," he said.
She shook her head. "It's just the rain."
His hand caressed her face before dropping down to grasp her hand in his. "I missed you in there."
Her face brightened. "Really?"
"Really." Liar. Bloody liar. "Wanna go back in?"
"I look horrible."
That ridiculous smile came to his face again. "Nonsense. You could never look horrible." He kissed her forehead. "You're beautiful." Green eyes stared up at him and she stood on tiptoe to hesitantly press her lips against his.
"Disgusting, isn't it?"
He jumped at the voice that came from behind him. "Malfoy. I thought you were inside."
Blue eyes glinted back at him. "I was. But it's time."
"Now?"
"Yes. The Lord is expecting us any moment. It's not wise to keep him waiting." He handed his friend a black robe. "Come on, Father is taking us."
The Slytherin boy slipped the robe on over his dress robes, taking one last glance back at the couple standing in the rain. Lily had finally found the love she had waited for throughout the past seven years.
But all feelings and heart that Severus Snape might have once possessed were left behind in the glade as he followed Lucius into the waiting clutches of Voldemort. After all, Death Eaters did not fall in love.
Some things were better left unrequited.
END
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from HP, though I wish Snape were mine!
Author's Note: Just a short ficlet I wrote up in about five minutes. *shrug* Not one of my best things ever, but I wanted to spit out a little Lily/Snape. Hope you enjoyed.
It was raining, a proper weather for the mood outside Hogwarts. Fat wet drops cascaded from the torrid skies, drenching the young red-haired girl. Her fiery tresses clung damply to her skin, her dress was sopping wet and muddied by running through the grounds, and ruined mascara clouded her pale cheeks. And yet, she still looked beautiful.
He would never think otherwise.
He watched silently as she stood in the midst of the rains, her face raised to the heavens, her eyes closed and her rounded lips moving slightly in a silent supplication. He watched, heedless of the fact that he himself was being soaked to the bone. That didn't matter.
He'd followed her out from the Great Hall, wanting to be sure she remained safe, safe from the hands of that Potter brat. She was in love with him, that was plain, but for some unknown reason, the black-haired Gryffindor did not share the sentiment.
Fool.
It was the night of the Yule Ball, and Potter had asked a picture-perfect Ravenclaw to dance rather than the girl whose green eyes followed him wherever he went. He thought himself too good for her.
He longed to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, to wipe away her tears, to hold her until the rains ceased. But she wouldn't want him. Why would she? They were too far separated. He was in Slytherin, she in Gryffindor. She was popular and pretty; he was sallow and outcast by even his own house. It simply wasn't done.
But he could still watch her.
For seven years he had been watching her. And for seven years she had been watching Potter. Sometimes he wondered if Fate and Irony worked together to make both their lives miserable. He was fairly sure they did.
For he was sure that he would never hold her, never touch her face or stroke her red hair. And if Fate had not ensured that, he himself was about to. He couldn't just wait around forever. There were more things in store for him than that, even if he had to forcibly wrench them away for himself.
A crackle of twigs caught both of their attentions to the arrival of Potter, gallantly braving the weather to come after her. He walked up to her with that crooked smile of his and used his thumb to brush away the streaming makeup beneath her eyes. "You're crying," he said.
She shook her head. "It's just the rain."
His hand caressed her face before dropping down to grasp her hand in his. "I missed you in there."
Her face brightened. "Really?"
"Really." Liar. Bloody liar. "Wanna go back in?"
"I look horrible."
That ridiculous smile came to his face again. "Nonsense. You could never look horrible." He kissed her forehead. "You're beautiful." Green eyes stared up at him and she stood on tiptoe to hesitantly press her lips against his.
"Disgusting, isn't it?"
He jumped at the voice that came from behind him. "Malfoy. I thought you were inside."
Blue eyes glinted back at him. "I was. But it's time."
"Now?"
"Yes. The Lord is expecting us any moment. It's not wise to keep him waiting." He handed his friend a black robe. "Come on, Father is taking us."
The Slytherin boy slipped the robe on over his dress robes, taking one last glance back at the couple standing in the rain. Lily had finally found the love she had waited for throughout the past seven years.
But all feelings and heart that Severus Snape might have once possessed were left behind in the glade as he followed Lucius into the waiting clutches of Voldemort. After all, Death Eaters did not fall in love.
Some things were better left unrequited.
END
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from HP, though I wish Snape were mine!
Author's Note: Just a short ficlet I wrote up in about five minutes. *shrug* Not one of my best things ever, but I wanted to spit out a little Lily/Snape. Hope you enjoyed.