Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!
A/N: Severus/Lily fiction, no James bashing of course. I've found that SS/LE has quickly become one of my favourite ships, but then, I defy you not to love Severus after Deathly Hallows. I know the prophecy didn't necessarily require Lily and James, but to make this fiction work I needed to tailor it slightly. I also know that JKR said that James harassed Snape so much out of jealousy, so parts of this have been edited so that James isn't made to look wierd. Thanks to duj for pointing that out to me! Anyway, on with the story!
'Look … at … me …' he whispered.
The Green eyes found the black, but after a second something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.
Severus Snape opened the door slowly, his black eyes opening, and then closing again, as if adjusting to the bleak light of the potions class room. He looked around twice, but found no one. He exited the room through the door behind him and swept across the empty darkness of the corridor into his office.
It was exactly as he had left it. The cold bricks of the bare walls seemed to stretch for eternity as they trailed off into the shadows of the high ceiling. His bookshelf held the same dusty books as they had done for too many years. He peered into each of his draws, which were filled mostly with objects of very little interest to him. They were mostly things he had confiscated from students in the past. Strange, he thought, I was sure I heard someone down here.
He sat down at his desk, and groaned slightly as he lowered himself into his chair. It was a strange, wooden thing, with a high, stiff back, long knobbly legs and a hard flat seat. He didn't know why he'd not asked for a new one, or even just transfigured it into something slightly more comfortable. It never seemed to bother him as much usually as it did that evening.
He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in his inkpot. The ink stained the tip of his quill as he let a few black drops fall back into the pot. As he began to write, however, no mark was made on the parchment. It stayed crisp and new, its white purity mocking him. He tried again. Nothing. He stood up, slamming his quill onto the table in his confusion, breaking it into two pieces.
Why would his quill not write? It was unfamiliar. It was ruining his unblemished routine. Every evening after he had finished in the great hall, he would return to his office and mark papers, or take care of any business. Then, promptly at eleven o'clock, he went to bed, only to rise the next morning to the monotony of lessons, teaching the dunderheads some teachers called students.
Actually, he wondered, did I even go to dinner? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything except returning to check the classrooms for people. He didn't feel hungry, but he didn't feel particularly sated either. Although, he didn't usually feel sated. He hadn't felt truly satisfied for a long time.
'You didn't, Professor.' a soft voice answered his silent question.
He looked at the figure standing in front of his desk. It was a girl; she couldn't be any more than twelve years old. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, he could see. She wore long, dusky robes, which covered her hair and face, and trailed onto the floor around her.
'I didn't what?' he asked curtly.
'Go to dinner, you didn't go to dinner.' the girl replied, mysteriously.
'What do you need from me? You do know it's getting late and Filch does not take kindly to students out of bed after hours.' he said, beginning to grow tired of her strange presence amidst his confusion.
'You're a Slytherin, aren't you Professor? I'm a Gryffindor. Wouldn't you rather be brave like me?' she asked the surprised Professor.
'Being in a house does not make you brave, foolish girl. Courage comes from a lifetime of strive and hardship, not from wearing a red tie instead of a green or yellow or blue one around your neck.' he replied, his anger growing.
The girl uncurled her shoulders now, so she was no longer hunched over. Her robes were, slowly by surely, fading from black to grey. She continued her questioning. 'Indeed, Sir, that is true. After all, you have, have you not, suffered the longest and bravest battle of us all?'
'There are others who have suffered far more than myself. I have suffered only the pain which comes from having knowledge far beyond ones desires. Do not pity me, girl, no good has ever come from pity.' he replied, his confusion, as well as his anger, was now rapidly increasing.
'But you are alone, Professor, and I can not help but pity those who have lived alone and without love.' the girl said, her robes continuing to lighten to a soft, pale green. She appeared to be getting taller as he spoke, her robes no longer far too long for her, although they still pooled on the floor around her feet.
'I have not always been alone. I am sustained on the memories of those times.' he said, snarkily.
She lifted her head slightly, and the red lips of a woman far older than the girl he had seen originally became visible. 'What memories, Professor?'
'Memories of when I was a child, and when I was at Hogwarts as a student.' he told her. The words were spilling from his thin lips without his consent, and he wondered where they were coming from. He wondered why he was even having this conversation with a student.
'What memories, Professor?' she repeated, clearly not satisfied with his previous answer.
'Memories of a girl I knew once, she was called Lily. She was my greatest friend, and I loved her very much. I made a mistake far greater than your inadequate mind can comprehend, and I lost her. I wish things had been different, but they are not.' he said, watching in wonder as her robes became a dazzling white, contrasting sharply with their dull surroundings.
'She was never truly lost to you, Severus, but we can not escape destiny. Your Lily was needed by a force and desperation far greater than yours. Without her love of her son, and without your sacrifice, the world would never be rid of such unspeakable evil.' she explained, a deep red curl falling out of her hood.
'I understand that, but …' he stopped. He knew there was no end to the sentence he had begun. He could not take his eyes from the hair starting to show beneath her hood. He recognized her, he was sure of that, and he was captivated by her.
She stood up, her white robes, though now the perfect length, still covered her face. She held out a hand to him.
'What's going on? Who are you? Where are we going?' he said, all the sarcasm and nerve gone from his voice. For the first time in nearly twenty five years, he sounded scared.
'I'm afraid to tell you, Severus, that we're dead. But where we're going? That's completely up to you. We can be anywhere you choose.' she smiled at him, lowering her hood.
He gazed at her, his eyes betraying his shock. She was a woman so beautiful he could not begin to explain it. She had long red hair, which fell in deep curls across the milky skin of her face and neck. Her lips were painted a blood red, but she was smiling softly at him, as if waiting for him to remember something important. Her eyes were wide and green. He stared into them.
He remembered.
The searing pain of the snakebite. Spilling a silvery-blue explanation from the very depths of his memory. Clutching the front of a boys robes. With his last breath, begging to look into green eyes for the final time.
'Lily? Lily is it you?' he whispered, his lips trembling.
'Yes, Severus, yes it's me! I waited for you, you see?' she smiled a wide smile of pure joy at his understanding. She placed her hand on his cheek. He lent into its warmth and shut his eyes.
'No, Lily,' he said, taking her hand away from his face and stepping back, 'No, Lily, I've done bad things, such bad things, I don't deserve you. I never will. I expected to wake up after my death to screams and the crucio curse and unfathomable horrors, but instead I find you in all your beauty waiting for me. I don't deserve you, I promise you I don't. Go back to James.'
She smiled, a brief laugh dancing on her lips, as she shook her head at him. 'I loved James, Severus. We needed each other and Harry. We were drawn to each other, because we needed to be together to get rid of Voldemort and to fulfil the prophecy. He's great friend, but the love we have for each other is different. I love him like a friend, thats all I ever felt for him. Friendship. He knew that, he thought he loved me, so he accepted friendship instead. When we got up here, Sev, he realised we weren't in love. Remember Dorcas? Dorcas Meadowes? He loves her, truly loves her now. And I love you. I'll always love you, Sev. That's why I waited for you for seventeen years. And now it's just me and you, we can do as we please, see who we like and be happy forever. We deserve this eternity.'
Severus looked like he could barely believe what he was being told. He stepped forward on uncertain feet and placed his arms around her shoulders stiffly. She put her arms around his waist and pulled him closer to her. 'Relax, Sev,' she smiled into his shoulder.
Her words seemed to release him. No sooner had they left her lips was he grasping her tightly, his face buried in her hair, relishing the feeling. He held her as though it was the only chance he would have. He felt complete.
'I love you,' he murmured those three little words, foreign on his tongue, into her hair so quietly she could have easily missed them. She didn't. She raised herself onto her tip toes and kissed the end of his hook nose. 'I love you too, Severus. I don't think those words will ever explain how much, but I do.'
Her kiss took him by surprise at first, but he returned it feverishly. She pulled away, looking completely delighted. She grabbed his hand and pulled him thought the open door, her face alight with laughter all the while.
The green eyes found the black as they went through the door and into the light.
Severus Snape was finally complete.