Inspired by the song of the same name by a band called Rise Against, which I highly recommend. Enjoy :)


Severus Snape was a man unworthy of dreams.

Nightmares, however, were of a different breed. They were the foulest creatures of the night, lurking in shadowy recesses of the mind where self-inflicted hate loomed high and mighty. On the few nights when Severus' slumbering mind was taken over by druids painting fanciful images on the walls of his subconscious, he almost always played audience to terrifying images that woke him in a cold sweat. Vivid reels of memories raced through his barely-there thoughts, forcing him to relive the worst moments of his life. This was what his life was destined to be. He was worthy of this, constantly seeing the torment of Potter and Black. The abuse of his filthy Muggle father. Feeling the Dark Lord's cold fingers latch onto his forearm, jabbing a wand – that cruel pointy reckoning – at his bare skin, forever scarring him emotionally and physically. He had earned this.

But dreams? Severus did not deserve them. He had wronged far too many times in his life to be bestowed with something so innocent, so very pleasant.

So what, then, was the reason for the delusion that had awoken him not with terror but with pure bliss?

It was not the first time it had happened. He would admit to none but himself that he had been plagued with the images for years. Images that had been quite frequent after that fateful Halloween night. He could see in all too stark clarity every single detail that was her. The long auburn hair that he swore shone gold under the sun's tender rays. The slight slope of the smooth expanse of forehead that crinkled under the exertion of mental work. The feel of her skin under his calloused thumb as he wiped away a stray tear. The elegantly high cheekbones, the lithe frame, the blinding smile.

And those eyes.

As he lay in bed in his home on Spinner's End while the rest of Wizarding England celebrated the day the "Chosen One" had been born fifteen years ago, he stubbornly pulled the tattered duvet up to his nose. It was childish, he knew, defiantly hiding from the thoughts he had long ago deemed bad. Dwelling on the past, though, resurfaced all of those old emotions he had thrown away into a box of memories bound and sealed with only the best mental barriers. He could remain here, cowering under his moldy covers, pretending he had abandoned all that was Lily Potter, née Evans. He could tell himself he had all but forgotten the color of her eyes, and her scars or how she got them.

But the truth of the matter was he would always remember. Always.

He would know that the funny little heart-shaped scar on the underside of her wrist was from when she and Petunia wanted to mark the love they once felt for one another with a sharpened graphite pencil. He would, on a vague whim, recollect her deepest fear of failure and all that came with it. And he could never forget those eyes, those startling emerald eyes. Those brilliant gems haunted him in his dreams, filled with loving adoration. They followed him in his nightmares, filled with remorseful loathing.

She was always there.

And now Severus was facing one of the greatest evils of all: time. He was steadily growing older by the minute. The telling signs of age rained down on his sullen persona, carving furrows into deathly pale skin, killing strands of long-grown life with the gray, and damaging his internal memory. Time was wearing on, creating a new and strange existence. Soon, Lily's life, left in friendly remembrances and old wives' tales, would cease to exist. Yes, she would go on in stories spun of her tragic demise and the hopeful charisma of her horrid son. But the person she was, her own identity, would be no more. Severus could not stand the fate awaiting her on the other side of time.

The world would remember, and yet all too soon forget.

"There's no time like the present," he remembered her saying one day as the old friends sat side-by-side, fingers lazily trailing the murky waters of the Black Lake.

He had merely nodded absentmindedly, enjoying the feel of the sun on his closed eyelids and Lily's warmth radiating from beside him. In hindsight, however, he realized now that she could not have been more correct. Like an ignorant fool, he had taken what, in reality, had been so little time with her for granted. Each day blindly carried on, never letting on that their days were numbered. Almost naturally, he figured they would spend the rest of their lives together. How could he have been so foolish?

There was no time like the present. So why had he focused solely on their nonexistent future together? Now he was doomed to forever live in their tortured past. During their Hogwarts years he never much paid attention to the intricate web of what was now. Then, he never put much faith in the words. Lily could fantasize about the time they spent together in blissful summer days and cruel winter nights but he could not, not when he failed her far too many times. And even now, as he was older, he was still failing her.

"I just want to save you while there's still something left to save!"

Those words reverberated in his subconscious, taking him back to a time when all had begun to go so terribly wrong. Why had he not foreseen it? He had been delving deeper into the stinging Darkness, foraging through a life he could never recover from. She had confronted him about it one day, accusing him of abandoning her for a world he had no business in.

"I just want to save you," she had cried at his retreating back. He had laughed humorlessly. It was typical Lily fashion to get involved in something that never concerned her (but of course it did). The stubborn Gryffindor asserted her prissy little nose in affairs she so desperately wished she could control. Like Severus changing, for starters.

The pair glared at one another for a solid minute after her dreadful (but accurate) accusations. Delicate arms crossed with anger and he noted, with a little start, the fire dancing in her eyes.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

In that moment, the anger subsided somewhat and he felt the tension slither away in the afternoon glow. Passerby watched the friends curiously, wondering what would happen. The Lily temper was infamous and none had ever seen it unleashed on Severus. That was the farthest thing from his mind, though. Fingers flexed unconsciously towards her, wanting, no needing to touch her, hold her, love her. The words danced on the tip of his tongue, balancing on suddenly trembling lips. He wanted to scream it at her, blame her for being so terribly stupid.

How had she not known that he was so desperately in love with her?

But instead, like the Slytherin he was, Severus abruptly turned on his heel and left her standing there alone.

"I just want to save you," she had said. Severus scoffed at that. The last thing he needed was Lily Evans playing his savior. (But, just like always, he had been wrong.)

"I love you," he had murmured under his breath. "But you deserve so much better."

It had taken a few days for them to come around to speaking once more. In a matter of minutes they were back to normal, laughing at personal jokes and bashing the Marauders. On more than one occasion, Severus almost expressed his inner feelings to her but he had always ended up becoming a blustering fool. She would smile prettily at him and he would turn into a wreck.

Things took a nasty turn during their fifth year of Hogwarts.

The scene replayed in his mind, over and over and over again. To this day, he would forever regret it, or Potter's existence. If the insolent fool had not antagonized him at that time, perhaps things with Lily would have worked out differently. With a resigned sigh, he admitted it probably would have changed nothing. For the rest of his life he lived with an ill-sitting ache in his heart where she so perfectly fit.

Lily Evans had been the first person to befriend him, to show him that not all of those in life were cruel and vindictive. She showed him something he had never known: love. His feelings for her gradually developed into more but he refrained himself, driven by cowardice and a fear of ruining what they had. She had willingly tried to tear down the multitude of walls he always kept himself in.

How could he hurt her so?

He could never be sure if others saw it but the pain in her emerald eyes would always have the leading role in his night terrors. It tore apart his heart, the hurt he saw there for a brief second. It was so much worse than the anger, the defiance, the rage she only saved for Potter. The foul name "Snivellus" coming from her normally smiling lips couldn't even compare.

Bundled all together, though, it killed him.

That day was the end of him, but the beginning of so many things that he could never bear. Lily's cold shoulder played a part in him becoming a person he would forever hate. Shuddering slightly, his thoughts turned to Voldemort branding him once more. If he had refrained from calling Lily a Mudblood, would it have ever happened? That was hardly the worst of it. He knew, deep down in his blackened heart, that he was the driving force between the relationship that formed between Potter and his Lily. It disgusted him, knowing the repulsive offspring was his fault. He wished, hoped, that she would have grown to love him.

He wished, stupidly hoped, that somehow, his former self would have embraced Lily Potter, née Evans as his savior.

He tried (oh, how he tried!) to finally right things between them. He had always hated that she had been a Gryffindor but he hated it even more then; Lily was far too stubborn to make amends. The damage had been done and there was no more for Severus to do to fix it. They were miles away now, dancing on the edge of a crumbling friendship. He knew, oh, he feared, that she would jump ship into the arms of Potter, who was always waiting in the wings to catch her. He could try to hold onto her but it would be to no avail; she was like fire, completely untouchable to a snake such as himself.

Potter was all too willing to try to tame the flames.

He had followed her to the library one day. He knew she knew but she ignored him. Disregarding the sting, he seated himself in a chair across from her.

"Please talk to me," he pleaded for what felt like the millionth time.

Recoiling slightly from the venomous glare she aimed at him, he listened to her say in a voice he hardly recognized, "There's nothing left to say." But they both knew that was a terrible lie.

Huffing in irritation, she slammed her books shut and sat at a table occupied by (to Severus' horror) Lupin and Black of all people. He blinked rapidly, fighting tears he did not know he still had and hurried back to the dungeons. They were broken, a chasm expanding before them now.

And it was his fault.

The days spent without Lily's shining presence were like heavy weights burdening his fragile state. They carried on forever, seeming to taunt him as he watched from a distance as others made her smile or laugh. His heart clenched uncomfortably, threatening to send him spiraling further into the Darkness. He nearly lost it when he stumbled across her and his enemy together in a darkened corner.

His fate was ruined as he bloodied his name and became a Death Eater. He knew Lily would never have approved (and, in an act of defiance, that was a major factor in the decision). From a third party source he learned of her marrying the person he hated most beside his father. After drinking himself into oblivion of self-hatred and pity, he learned to turn the emotion off.

On a day that started out completely harmless, however, Severus quite literally ran into her at Diagon Alley. Not paying attention to who he had just smacked into, he mumbled a half-hearted apology and bent down to pick up the scattered parcels. A pale hand flashed before him in lightning speed and thin fingers wrapped around the forearm that had momentarily become exposed. Eyes wide, his frightened stare trailed the slender arm until he met those emeralds he had forced himself to forget. Lily's surprisingly gentle gaze was filled with disappointment, twisting the knife deeper into his breaking heart. He snatched his arm away, pulling his sleeve over the branded skin. She seemed to be struggling with her emotions, searching for something to fill the awkward silence.

"We never have a choice, Potter," he finally bit out, lacing her new moniker with enough venom for her to frown and back off.

"Why didn't you let me save you?" she wondered aloud. Severus was momentarily taken aback by the misery in her voice.

And then, just like that, she was gone, returning to her husband's side after hesitantly retrieving the wrapped item from his suddenly slack grip. He watched her go, feeling the lost emotions return in full force. The desire to call after her was almost unbearable but he restrained, biting his lower lip until he drew blood.

The news of her untimely demise hit him with such force that he was tempted to end his own life as a means of reaching her again. It hurt even more because this was also his fault. Just as he was behind her going off and marrying the blood traitor that had tormented him for years, Severus had single-handedly given over the information that sparked the Dark Lord's lust after a child's blood. He had been foolish, driven by a desire to serve his new master. How was he to know the prophecy he had overheard one fateful night would be about the Potters? A minute part of his mind whispered words that assured him it was not his fault because he could not have known. But he would always blame himself because he knew he had failed her yet again.

Which is why he hoped trying to save the life of her child would bring some sort of balance to their decayed relationship.

He tried to blame Dumbledore for her dying. Had he not promised he would keep her alive? He hardly cared about James or the brat that looked identical to him. All that mattered was Lily, his Lily, would be safe. But she had died and would no longer live another day to smile at him with her brilliant green eyes. For months he was beside himself, in secret of course. Every night he would be wracked with such grieving sobs over her loss before finally diving into a fitful slumber as he lay curled in a fetal position. One day, though, it occurred to him that nothing he could do would bring her back.

That was why he resigned himself to the memories floating in his Pensieve, or the images that flashed through his mind as he slept. Because nightmares of Lily were better than no Lily at all.

Tentatively, Severus rolled down the duvet and eased himself out of his bed. He stretched his tense muscles, trying to vanquish the image of her eyes glaring at him from his face. He shivered unconsciously as he carried on his morning activities, attempting to keep the past at bay. He bathed, dressed, and ate feeling numb all the while.

Because no feelings at all were better than the pain.

In a bit of a daze, he neatly Apparated himself onto the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place. Trying to maintain normality, he sneered at the Weasley twins Apparating nonstop through the house and tried to hurl an insult at Black. But nothing came out. Sirius attacked him verbally throughout the day but Severus hardly flinched, much to Black's dismay. He counted down the minutes when he could leave the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and sulk in his own home. Those around him were not bothering him as much as they should have, but he could snap at any moment. His thoughts were so consumed with Lily, though, that nothing else mattered.

When Dumbledore adjourned the meeting, he was the first out of the door. His long fingers had just wrapped around the brass doorknob when a voice called to him. Adopting a look of disgust, he turned to face whoever it was.

"What is it, Black?" he snapped, pointedly glancing at his wristwatch.

Black only smirked. "Ah, there's the Snape we all know and love," he taunted, tapping Severus's nose with an annoying finger. He didn't even seem intimidated by the glare he was receiving. "I come in peace, relax."

"What do you want?" Severus demanded bitterly. He watched as the other man produced an envelope from his robe pocket.

"I found this in one of the drawing room drawers while we were cleaning," he explained, turning the envelope over in his hands. "I'm not ashamed to admit I tried opening it but it has a bunch of enchantments against nosy buggers like me from getting into it." He chuckled dryly. "Whoever did it certainly knows me. Anyway, it has your name on it."

Severus eyed the thing speculatively, refusing to take it.

Sirius sighed. "Look, its not going to kill you. It almost killed me but I'm certain you should take it. Whoever wrote it must have tried to give it to you a while ago but it somehow ended up stuck in this dump. We don't see eye to eye but I'm sure about this." He shoved the envelope into Severus' hands and began to walk away. Before returning to the kitchen, however, he turned slightly to say, "She would've wanted you to have it."

Severus waited until he was gone to look at the envelope he was now holding. It did, in fact, have his name written on it in a scrawl he would recognize even years after he had last seen it. He returned to the quiet of his home where he could mull it over in peace. Settling down in an old, decrepit chair, shaky hands tore at the ancient envelope leaving ugly rip marks in the paper. His heart hammered as he read the words written on the parchment.

I don't hate you, it said.

Severus gave a little watery chuckle as he traced the words with a finger nail. She didn't hate him. She didn't hate him. In the end, it mattered not that Lily had failed to rescue him from his Dark future. Those four little words meant the world to him and suddenly had him soaring above the miserable neighborhood of Spinner's End. He could sleep somewhat easier now, feeling deserving of those beautiful dreams. She didn't hate him and that was all he needed to know, even if it had come too little too late.

Lily Potter had finally saved Severus Snape.