Hey folks! Usual disclaimers apply.
I welcome constructive criticism. Please note that this story will likely contain spoilers... But really, if you haven't finished the series yet... sigh. Thanks for taking the time to read. Oh!, and the quote's from a book by Dorothy Evelyn Smith that I loved. :) Read it.
Enjoy!

A Sudden Light

"Death in itself is not a terrible thing, nor even necessarily a sad thing, but more often the answer to a question; the lifting of a burden, the sudden light in a dark and tortuous passage."- Dorothy Evelyn Smith, O, The Brave Music

Chapter One

It's a terrible thing to lose someone you love. Many are fortunate enough to not discover this sad fact until they have been adequately prepared by years of experience; in comforting close friends -- the not-so-fortunate -- in the midst of various tragedies, the fortunate come to know what to expect. They expect to cry, to hate the world, to want to retrieve the piece missing from the center of their puzzle.

But people are changing -- constantly. Sorrow, anger, and desperation fade with time, however slow it seems. People are comforted by the simple reassurance that everything will be okay again -- another expectation. Lily was sick of expectations. They were wrong. It had been two weeks, and nothing had changed…

Had there not been a steady flow of pebbles tapping at her window, Lily might not have moved at all that day. She knew who was throwing the rocks. It was an unexpected, unsettling break in Lily's daily grind, her monotony of expectation. She brushed her hand through her hair in an attempt to smooth it, only to realize just how long it had been since she'd washed it. But Lily ignored her vanity, thinking of who her caller was, and set about prying the window open.

It was Tuesday, sometime at the end of July, 1976. Lily had somehow managed to work up a sweat lying on her bed, head hanging upside-down over the edge. Petunia was out with some friends already, some bloated bloke named Dursley who couldn't resist yammering with his mouth full. Frank Evans was puttering downstairs. Lily could hear him gently clicking dishes together in the cabinets and closing doors as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb his youngest daughter. Frank's mornings tended to pass by slowly.

Her room had not breathed fresh air since the summer before, but Lily didn't have much trouble opening the window. She breathed in the cool breeze, relishing the way it felt on her skin. Then she looked down to the only one of her frien--acquaintances who didn't think of using the front door like a normal person. "Severus."

"Lily," he said, sounding almost wary. "Sor--"

She decided it was best to be indignant. "Anything you say to me can surely be addressed at eye level."

Snape gave her what was probably a hard look from behind his hair and nodded. Lily slammed her window shut and stepped aside. Snape hesitated a moment before walking away. It served him right, she guessed. Yet at the same time, there was a little remorse…

A deep sandpaper voice called up the stairs. Her father. Lily didn't think she would ever get used to this new, achingly painful voice her father had gotten better and better at since That Day. "The Snape boy is here!"

Surprised, Lily burst out of her room. There, at the bottom of the stairs in front of the entryway, was Severus. He looked more than a bit uncomfortable there, with Mr. Evans staring critically at him. He'd heard about the young man's behavior toward Lily at the end of the last school year, and Frank Evans did not stand for anyone calling his daughter a Mudblood -- whatever that was. "Why don't you two talk down here?" he suggested after neither teen spoke. Lily could tell he still had major misgivings about her former friend.

Lily rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. All the better to kick Snape out more quickly, after all. She slouched her way down the stairs, still mindful of her hair's unhealthy slickness. "C'mon, then," she said with an impatient gesture when she got to the last step. Snape followed her to the living room, where he gingerly sat on the edge of the sofa. Mr. Evans retreated to the kitchen and was undoubtedly listening from behind the door, reminding Lily sharply of her mother.

"What is it that you wanted?"

He sighed. "Lily… I'm sorry about--"

"Save it," she shot him down. "I've already heard your apologies."

Snape's eyes flashed with a brief but intense blaze of anger. "I'm not here about that," he said. "I heard about your mum and wanted to tell you… I know we're not on the best of terms, but y'know… Er, I understand. You can talk to me if you ever want to, and I-I'll listen."

Lily's eyes welled. Her shoulders shook a little, and she choked out, "I don't want to talk about it." The young man seated next to her tentatively reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. "D-don't touch me," Lily said as she jerked away. "Just… don't."

"Please, Lily, look at me."

Lily shook her head fiercely. She blinked back tears with desperation, determined not to cry. "Just go..."

Snape closed his eyes and nodded once, standing. In a dark, venom-laced voice he muttered, "Listen, I know I'm not Potter, but if you ever need to talk…"

"Go!" Lily shouted, hurling two pillows from the couch at him. The first just brushed his shoulder, and the beaded tassels of the second clacked loudly against the door just as it closed. Lily took one look at the pillows in their sad pile on the ground and followed suit, dissolving into her own sad pile. She clutched her knees against her heaving chest and cried.

In the kitchen, Mr. Evans sat at the table staring into space. He hoped the Snape boy was doing a better job comforting Lily than he had. Occasionally, a brief vague image of Carole Evans would flood his vision, but it was gone much too fast for his liking. In the end he was left blinking: in hopes that the image would return and somehow be more real than the last; in hopes that the newest onset of tears would stop behind his eyelids.

x

"Where ya been, boy?" slurred a voice from the sofa. Tobias Snape didn't take his eyes from the television as he addressed his only son.

Severus noticed several empty glass bottles strewn around his father's post and decided it was best to appear complacent. "Visiting a friend, sir." He choked back malice at having forced himself to address this man so respectfully. But he was too upset for a fight.

"Supper's on the stove," the elder Snape ground out, grimacing at the effort it took to speak. He sported a nice shiner on the right side of his face, no doubt from another fight at some seedy bar.

Severus passed wordlessly into the kitchen, curious to see what his father had managed to cook in his undoubtedly brief moment of guilt. Tobias only cooked when he was trying to make up for something. Oddly, Severus could think of nothing Tobias had done to warrant such a selfless act. Nevertheless, upon the stove was one pot, steaming away. Severus looked into it and grimaced. Tobias Snape had, in a half-drunk and guilty stupor, made an entire pot of peas.

Feeling more than a little hungry, Severus scooped his supper into a bowl and sat down to eat, trying to think of a way to repair the only friendship he had ever had.

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