"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

"And that is all you heard, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord."

The former, paler, more snakelike man let an ominous grin creep across his face. He traced his wand with his long, ill-manicured finger. "I have always been able to depend upon you."

The latter nodded curtly, his black eyes betraying not the curiosity he held to hear of whom this prophecy spoke. An eerie silence fell over the room. The younger man paced restlessly around the cold room, his pale hands grasping each other behind his back as his black robes trailed him.

"My Lord…" he began, but the Dark Lord held up a long finger.

"That will be all for now, Severus. I need time to think."

Severus Snape nodded once again, and left the room.


He sat in a large armchair, attempting to regain control. Pettigrew, the nasty git. He had been James's friend—one of his best—during the years at Hogwarts. He had stood by Sirius and James as they hexed and harassed a teenage Snape not many years before. Severus allowed his rage to fill him up momentarily—first his anger at Pettigrew for doing nothing as his friends jinxed an innocent fellow wizarding student, and second his anger at Pettigrew for betraying the Potters, which now included Lily Evans.

She could be mine, a voice in his head growled. She could be mine and none of this would have happened.

But she never would be, came another voice. The antagonist, his inner enemy, a voice of reason and truth that always seemed to stab him in the heart. You're a filthy half-blood Death Eater potioneer, Severus. James was a quidditch player; he was impressive, unlike yourself. He did things besides make up his own spells and curses. He didn't spend his time with his nose buried in textbooks or literature. He had a life, and a family who loved him, and a home, and most of all he had—and still has—Lily, who will never be yours—

"SHUT UP!"

Severus's knuckles were white as he gripped mere air between his fingers. His breathing became labored and heavy, as if he were fighting a difficult struggle.

He couldn't break down now; he had to save her.

Dumbledore lied, he thought. He swore he would keep them safe, he swore he would keep her safe.

He heard a door open in the distance, and quickly began an effort to regain his composure. He picked up the nearest book and plopped himself down back into the armchair. Footsteps echoed towards the room in which he sat, coming from the ascending feet of someone on the stairs.

"Yes," came an unmistakable high voice from behind the door. "It begins—or should I say, ends," the door opened. "Tonight."

Peter Pettigrew let out a nasty giggle.

"Hello, Severus," came the high voice again. Severus looked up from the book he was pretending to read, and his eyes met the red, snakelike eyes of Voldemort—previously Tom Riddle, but none of his Death Eaters dared call him by his original name for fear of an indefinite period of suffering under the Cruciatus curse. Only one person in the entire United Kingdom, and perhaps even the entire world, ever dared call him 'Tom', and that person was Albus Percival Brian Dumbledore, the man who had promised to keep Lily Evans safe—and lied.

"My Lord," came his curt reply as he closed the book and set it on a table he had not before noticed was next to the chair which he occupied.

"Jane Austen?" questioned the Dark Lord when he set eyes on the book which was now sitting on the table beside Severus. "Feeling sentimental, are we?" A haughty grin crossed Voldemort's face as he met the black eyes of his servant. Severus fought back a scowl.

"Narcissa said it was captivating," said Snape. "I, personally, haven't found it to be very pleasing. It is quite dull." He stood up and picked up the book, walking towards the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

"Do you still wish for me to spare her?"

"Oh, little Lily Evans, the one who never loved you!" interjected Pettigrew.

"Silence, you swine," Severus shot back.

"Leave, Wormtail," commanded Voldemort. "I believe Bellatrix is with Lucius and Narcissa downstairs."

Pettigrew bowed obediently. "Yes, my Lord." With this, he left the room, closing the door.

Severus stared at the titles of the ragged books in front of him. He began to put all his energy into occlumency, an art at which he was very advanced, so advanced, in fact, that he could fool the Dark Lord, the most powerful Legilimens among wizards.

"Well?"

"If it would not be trouble," he replied, "I would like her to live, my Lord."

The former nodded. "I can arrange that. But the boy must be destroyed."

"I understand."

A deafening silence took over the room, and it seemed to spin as each moment ticked away, drawing closer to the time when Lily's family would be taken from her. Severus's stomach lurched.

"And the husband? What of him, Severus?"

"Whatever you wish."

"Wonderful."

With a grin forming below his snakelike nostrils, the former Tom Marvolo Riddle exited the room, leaving Severus Snape to drown in his worry and regrets.