Kaleidoscope
by Camilla Sandman
Disclaimer: All Rowling's. I merely borrow.
Summary: He doesn't think of her as Lily Potter, though he knows deep down that is who she truly was, who she died as. But still she lives in his mind as Lily Evans, young and unbound and beautiful. The girl and he the boy, tangled in her innocent charm even as darkness lived in his mind.
Author's note: The Lily/Snape pairing was requested by Saz and thus for her I write. Happy birthday, babe!
II
One last time, he goes to visit Lily Evans.
He doesn't think of her as Lily Potter, though he knows deep down that is who she truly was, who she died as. But still she lives in his mind as Lily Evans, young and unbound and beautiful. The girl and he the boy, tangled in her innocent charm even as darkness lived in his mind.
He might still have been in darkness if not for her.
II
Another dark night, watching midnight dew from the window, dreading to go to bed to sleep and face another day. The classes captivates him, but always, there are people around and he walks awkwardly among them. He knows he is not pretty or popular such as gloating James Potter or daring as smirking Sirius Black. He is a shadow while they shine like the sun and a part of him hates them.
A part of him hates her and fears her, for she makes him want to shine. Lily needs a sun and he is darkness. And yet, they always meet here, just before bed. Not quite a date and not quite a coincident, and she comes out of the shadows, eyes greener than the grass. "Hey," she says and leans on the window still next to him. Near enough to touch but neither daring, not yet, as they watch the dew turn to frost and the night be forever.
II
He doesn't bring flowers. Flowers are sentimental and there is not much sentiment left in him these days. What once was, Voldemort long since burned out of him and the ashes Dumbledore has claimed for his redemption. He lives on bitterness and anger and determination and the promise he once made.
She never heard it and when she died, he broke it. He breaks it every day still.
II
The train is about to leave, hissing impatiently as students hurry their last items on board, sorting out who to sit with. He will not sit with her and she will not sit with him, and yet their eyes meet across the platform.
He will lose her this summer. In the bright of sunlight, she will forget dark nights with him. He has nothing to offer her and already, he can feel a dark call in his mind. He knows she has felt it within him too. She could try to save him, but he knows she will not. Not for lack of courage, no. She is Gryffindor after all and courage wears her like a shadow. But she has a bright mind and she knows he doesn't want to be saved, doesn't want pity, doesn't want help. He will let her go. He will not hurt her again. She will live and be bright and fair and untouched by darkness. Untouched by him. There is loss and sadness in her eyes and he wonders what it means, but a moment later she is gone and he balls his fits so hard the pain edges out everything else. II
"Why did it have to be so much of James in your son?" he asks. Her stone remain cold under his fingers. He is angry with it, angry with the Ministry for placing this quiet monument to her death, angry with James for sharing it and most of all he is angry with her. She dared die on him and leave her eyes in the face of James. He knows he shouldn't think of Harry as James, yet he does, yet he must. Easier to hate James-as-Harry than realise half of Lily lives on wrapped in James's skin.
A fine line between hate and lust and love.
"I've kept him alive," he goes on quietly. "For you. For the life I should have given to protect you."
It is only half a truth, but he has almost forgotten the other half.
II
The first time she kisses him, it is surrounded by the smell and feel and colours of the greenhouse and he almost knocks over a Mandrake Plant. She laughs into the kiss, her lips like marble and velvet and fire.
He thinks he might love her.
II
There is an intricate glass figure on the stone and he wonders as always if it is Harry who has left it, if Harry has ever seen this place. Harry, who has a legitimate reason to be here and mourn, Harry who Lily died for.
Some days, he hates the boy for that. Some days, he hates the boy for not being his.
II
He lies awake and feels her body next to his, knowing in the morning she will be gone. The school year is almost over and tomorrow, the train will carry them to different lives. He knows what will come, what summer will bring. He knows why she gave her innocence to him tonight.
A farewell. She will not return to Hogwarts in autumn for the last year as his. He lets his fingers trace patterns on her light skin and wonders if a night can be forever if he never sleeps.
II
He will not be back. Just as he wouldn't be back the last time and the time before. It's always the last time in his mind every time he returns. If it wasn't, he would call it an obsession and Severus Snape does not obsess.
But he owes her this. He walked into darkness, but she had once shown him there was something other than shadows and he walked out again.
The glass breaks the sunlight and for a moment he watches it, all the colours hidden in white.
II
The train is about to set out and he watches the window when she enters, red hair and red roses in her check. A first year like him, he guesses.
"Can I sit here?" "Yes," he says and she dumps down on the seat just as the train gives a jerk. "Thanks. I'm Lily Evans," she says, tossing her hair out of her face, her green eyes fixating on him. She smiles at him then and her smile seems to break the light, revealing its secrets. And for a moment, something in him that is not the child knows she's a kaleidoscope to his life and will show him what is hidden in light. "Severus Snape," he says and doesn't look away. II
He doesn't look back.