Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters, spells, potions, etc, belong to J.K. Rowling, not me… Though I do sincerely wish otherwise. Indexes of the spells and potions were obtained on Mugglenet, to save me some time.
AN: A couple of things first off: 1) This story is riddled with spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Read at your own risk. 2) The dialogue in the beginning was written by JKR. 3) Please forgive me if, at any time, this seems a bit OOC. I've scoured the books for every line spoken by Young!Snape and Lily, and I've done my best, but try to keep in mind that the only dialogue available for this particular time period is a bunch of people sobbing and screaming. So I filled in the blanks based on what happened before and after in the canon and a smidgeon of creative license. Also keep in mind that when traumatized, people tend to act a bit different. And the way I see it, Snape turned all bitter and hostile during the decade in which he was working in Hogwarts. 4) There is further information regarding my theory on Harry and James, which will be included in the next chapter's Author Note. 5) Yes, I realize that this probably isn't the first of its kind, nor do I think that this will be the best. Oh well. My muses told me to write it so I did.
That in mind, read on.
The Man Who Loved Lily
.-.-.-.
The makeshift barricade was thrown aside in a heartbeat, and broken bits of wood scattered across the floor. All color drained from the woman's face, but still she was not as pale as her attacker. She stood half terrified, half defiant before him, spreading her arms to create the largest shield her body could manage.
"Not Harry," she said, her pleading voice faint with horror. "Not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl…" The Dark Lord had not forgotten his favor to the man who had delivered the prophecy. "Stand aside, now."
"Not Harry, please no, kill me instead—"
Still, the woman was as annoying as she was pathetic.
"This is my last warning," he growled, raising his wand.
"Not Harry!" Suddenly her voice raised, filling the room with her cries, her pale face stained with tears. "Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—"
And now she was begging. The repetition of it all irked the Dark Lord. Next she would fall to her knees, like so many others… The favor to Snape surely wasn't worth this agitation. It would be far better just to kill the girl now.
And yet… such a little thing would surely prove how he rewarded his loyal servants. The girl did possess some measure of beauty—she would make an excellent example, and the rest of his followers would see, and they would want such prizes. He would entice them with favor, and in doing so strengthen the bond he had forged of fear.
"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"
She swallowed, but remained on her feet, fiercely between the Dark Lord and the child. And though her voice quavered, there was a strength within it that he could not deny. "No."
The Dark Lord Voldemort allowed a sneering grin to wash over his serpentine face.
"Stupefy."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
When she woke, it was to the feeling of a damp cloth being pressed to her forehead. Her eyelids were heavy, and the little light that seeped through was hazy and tinged with red. A sharp throb lighted in her skull, and she gasped. The pressure on the cloth receded, and she felt something cold and wet being pressed to her lips.
It's him, it's Voldemort—he's trying to poison me—where is –
"You have to drink it, Lily," a familiar voice murmured. "It'll help with the pain."
She groaned in reply, trying to place a name to the voice… it was familiar… but...
"You hit your head when you fell," it explained gently. "You had other cuts and bruises, but I've already taken care of those. All that's left is a little pain, and I swear, Lily, I swear this'll help."
She knew that voice… but… "Wh… who…?" She tried to open her eyes, but the world remained dim and clouded.
"Lily," the voice chided gently. "Don't you know me? It's me... It's me. You know me, remember?"
"S-Sev?" she whispered, a flicker of hope awakening within her. She tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed softly against her shoulder, pinning her into the bed.
"Shh… yes, it's me. You need to rest, Lily."
She was about to agree—he'd been her best friend, after all—but something else stopped her. He didn't wait for a reply, instead pressing the cold thing—a phial of potion—to her lips again, and tipping it into her mouth. She felt the change seconds later—a vague coolness that spread through every inch of her body, soothing away the ache in her head and pains she hadn't even realized she had, replacing it with a comfortable haze.
"You're a real genius with potions," she said, the ghost of her old humor bleeding into her voice. "But—"
"Are you up to eating?" he asked, sliding past the compliment.
"Listen," she began. "I have to know—"
"No," Severus protested. " Everything else comes later. First you must—"
"But—" He clasped his palm over her mouth, as though they were still in their school days. As though That Day had never happened. She blinked at him.
"Eat." A flick of his wand summoned the tray of sandwiches—tuna and tomato, that was her favorite—that he had prepared before waking her. The tray fell into her lap with a soft thud. "You're used to talking with your mouth full, aren't you?" Slowly he removed his hand, though his palm burned slightly where it had covered her lips. She looked at him for a long moment, and then spoke in a rush.
"What happened?"
He picked up one of the sandwiches and held it up to her face. Grudgingly she took it herself and bit into it.
"What happened?" she repeated, barely letting herself swallow.
"That can wait."
"But what about—"
"After you finish eating," he said curtly. "Surely you've got other questions?" There was a solidity in his eyes, unyielding and sure, and she narrowed her own emerald eyes.
"Fine," she grumbled, swallowing another mammoth bite without chewing. She almost choked, but forced it down nonetheless. "Another question then." She coughed. "What day is today?"
"Thursday."
"Which Thursday?" she pressed. She hadn't been one of Slughorn's favorites for nothing.
"November the third," Severus said quietly.
"Okay." She searched her mind—but her head, no longer throbbing thanks to the potion, was oddly fuzzy. She remembered putting up little cotton cobwebs with James… Sirius had come to the house, bringing a candied apple for Harry to try… "Next year we'll take you out trick-or-treating," James had said to their little boy, pointing out all the costumed children from the safety of the window. "But… wait. Yesterday… wasn't yesterday Halloween?" She didn't miss the way Severus' eyes flitted aside for barely an instant. He might have been the world's best Occlumens, as he had once bragged to her, but he never had been very good at lying to his best friend.
"Yesterday was the second," he corrected.
"Then I was out for…" the fog in her mind seemed to be getting thicker, and she found herself struggling with the math for a moment. What did he put in that potion, anyway"Three days?"
"More or less," he admitted.
"What happened, did I drink a sleeping potion?" Again that look of discomfort flitted across his face.
"You were stunned."
"And it took you three days to unstun me?" she asked suspiciously. "Who did it, anyway?"
"We'll discuss that after," he said firmly. Her eyes narrowed into almost-slits and she took another bite, chewing as savagely as the dizziness would permit.
"All right, then," she said. "Where's James? What's he been doing with Harry for the three days? Are they here?"
"Next question," he insisted, and she choked. He raised his wand to her throat and muttered some spell—the details lost in her frantic coughing. The bread and fish dislodged themselves from her throat and fell in pieces into her stomach. A quick "Accio" summoned a bottle of butterbeer, which zoomed into his hand. "Here—drink something." He snapped the cork from the bottle and pushed it into her hands.
"Severus," she rasped, the bottle full in her hands. "Where's James? Where's Harry?"
"Finish eating," he said numbly. She replaced the half-eaten sandwich on the tray.
"I'm not hungry," she said."
"Then… drink something." She took a quick swig of butterbeer and lowered the bottle once more, staring intently into his eyes.
"What happened, Sev?" she asked again. He leaned back uneasily.
"I… I'm sorry, Lily."
She felt the color drain from her face. "Sorry for what?" she asked. Again his eyes flicked to the side. "For what, Sev? What—"
"They're gone."
"In hiding," she clarified, a desperate laugh breaking through her tightening throat. "They're hiding. Why didn't you—"
"They're dead, Lily. The Dark Lord killed them both three days ago."
"No!" she cried savagely. "They're not dead! Where's James? Where's Harry? I know they're alive—they have to be!" She leaped from the bed, tottering even as she stormed away, but Severus grabbed her shoulder.
"They're gone," he said again, his hands vicelike as they held her back. "There's nothing you can do for them now, Lily—"
"You're wrong!" she shrieked. "They're alive—they've got to be, Voldemort wouldn't kill them and leave me behind—let go of me!"
She wasn't sure when the tears began or the thrashing ended, but now Severus was holding her tightly, pinning her arms to her sides in an oddly strangled hug. Slowly she gave up fighting him, too overwhelmed by grief to move anymore, and surrendered herself to sobbing into his shoulder.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Lily," he said clumsily, raising one hand to stroke her hair. "It… that should never have happened. It—" It'll be okay? No. He couldn't say that. Not now. And he didn't. They just stood there for a long time, Lily crying as Severus tried awkwardly to comfort her, until the haze overpowered her completely, and she collapsed in his arms. He half carried, half dragged her back to the bed and laid her back under the covers as gently as he could, shrouding her again with the blanket. He looked warily at the empty flask on the ground, the last baleful drops of analgesique potion glistening in the dim light. He had hoped despite himself that it would have cleared her mind completely… but he could have no such luck.
I've got enough luck, he told himself, glancing back at Lily's sedated form. The Dark Lord's acquiescence to his pleas had been miraculous enough. Everything else… he looked down at her tear-stained face, still beautiful in grief. It would take time, perhaps. But she was alive, she was safe. He could handle whatever else could possibly happen now.