A/N: This was written for Halloween, since that was Lily's death day, after all. It's just a short little one-shot on the relationship between Snape and Lily and his attempt at asking forgiveness. I hope you enjoy it and please R&R!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is, after all, a fanfiction website.
The foggy and windy night delighted the children who begged their parents to go trick-or-treating. Their parents consented reluctantly, remembering the events of the prior year, which they had neglected to tell their children.
Last year was 1981, a year of horror. Throughout the country, people either disappeared or were found dead with no cause whatsoever. Villagers living in Godric's Hallow had remained cautious, suspicious, but unscathed until tragedy struck.
A young couple, the Potters, had been living a peaceful life with their infant child Harry. Just about all of those living in Godric's Hallow had met them at some point or another. Mr. Potter was athletic and humorous. Something in his quick wit and teasing manner drew friends like a magnet. His wife was sweet, beautiful, and caring. Her gentle nature attracted companions as surely as her husband's open personality. The young family easily touched the lives of all their neighbors and lived happily, until last year.
Exactly a year ago, a silent, hooded stranger had entered their village. Unseen by all except a select few trick-or-treaters, the shadowy figure had not been fully registered in the villager's minds. Those who had sighted the mysterious visitor could only describe a tall figure, cloaked and strolling down the streets. Queer though it seemed, such figures could be ignored on All Hallows' Eve. It wasn't until the next day that the damage was discovered.
Old Bathilda Bagshot was the first to lay eyes on the upon the wreckage which, just the previous day, had been the Potters' simple home. One room, the nursery, had the ceiling and part of the walls blown clean off. Her scream brought the rest of the neighbors at a run. A quick search of the building located the young parents, both dead of unknown cases. Officials had been unable to locate baby Harry. A torrent of fear had blanketed the once peaceful village.
Now, it was a year later to the day. Though the disappearances and inexplicable murders had suddenly ended, there was a definite air of nervousness and caution in the atmosphere. Anxious parents kept an eye out for any mysterious figures. None appeared while children roamed the streets.
Late that night, after everyone had turned in, a tall man emerged into the fog. Swathed in a black cloak which fluttered behind him as he walked, the stranger seemed to be formed of the very shadow from which he had stepped. The figure remained on the edges of the lane, out of the line of sight for the houses' occupants.
Reaching the village square, the figure stopped, his dark hair whipping around his face. In the distance, a clock announced midnight. Listening to the chimes, a small shudder seemed to run through him. Once it finished its call, the man hesitated, and then moved across the square.
Half-way across, he froze in shock. What he had previously dismissed as only a war obelisk changed. Now, a statue replaced the tower. A statue of a young family sitting on a park bench. His eyes narrowed at the casually handsome man and focused on the woman. A casual observer would have noticed nothing, but a closer glance revealed a sudden softening of the eyes, which filled with pain as the man continued to gaze at the mother. The infant in her arms was ignored.
Finally, he tore himself away from the monument and resumed walking. At the end of the square, he stopped and looked around. Appearing to make up his mind, he went to the little church nearby. Outside the door, he paused again, glaring at the building as though it had done him a personal wrong. Then, the stranger moved on.
Outside the church lay a small cemetery. Inside the gated fence, fog swirled, a blanket hiding the groves in its depths. The man approached the gate, which swung open silently, though it had been locked previously. Quickly, he slipped back into the fog.
Mist swirled as he wandered through the graveyard. Stopping occasionally to check a tombstone, the man moved deeper and deeper into the gloom, appearing to search for one in particular.
At last, he stopped before two relatively recent ones. The names James Potter and Lily Potter were carved onto bright marble. With a glare, he passed over the husband and muttered under his breath. Before the woman's grave he placed a small, pure-white lily. In spite of the small smirk at the common pun, his expression was one of unbearable pain and sorrow.
Suddenly, the man collapsed to his knees before the grave, thin shoulders shaking with the force of his weeping. The thick mist muffled the quiet sobs as the figure gradually regained control. Still, he remained kneeling before the two imposing headstones.
Reaching under his cloak, he withdrew another flower, a rose this time. With a tender gesture, he placed it beside the lily. His accompanying whisper drifted across the sheltered cemetery.
"I'm sorry, Lily. Forgive me."
Getting back to his feet, the man turned and walked solemnly back to the gate. Pausing right before the exit, he turned back towards the two graves, hidden in the depths of shadow and mist. Slowly, deliberately, he uttered the words he had always been afraid to say out loud, the words which now floated through the gloom.
"You asked once why you were any different. It's because..." he paused for a moment before continuing, "I love you."
And with that final parting phrase, Severus Snape silently slipped through the gate and disappeared, as though he had never been there. Behind him, the fog closed around the graves, swirling endlessly against the black of the night.