A/N: Well it seems this story won't stop bumping around my head, actually have another writers story for inspiring me emotionally to finally put my thoughts to words. So those you reading Behind Tough Exterior; I'm working on it I promise (more plots popped up and now my story will have a sequel), this is filler in the mean time. Enjoy a very twisted AU, Severus/Lily story. Keep in mind, reviews are most definitely welcome.
The world of Harry Potter and characters belong to dear Rowling, many thanks for letting me borrow them.
Prologue Part One:
A cry, a horrible depressing childish cry breaks the silence of darkness. The wails entailing a desperate plea, unrelenting wails of anguish clamor behind broken sobs and a broken, desperate child clinging to the cold, lifeless body of its mother. A sickening laughter is still haunting the child, but it does nothing to smother the emptiness and despair that the child is yet even aware of or old enough to understand.
The little boy with neck length raven colored hair and onyx black eyes, cries for a sadness he barely registers. All he knows that he is left within the world without the sound of his mother's voice, the soft delicate touch of her skin against his, or her smiles that reach her eyes when she looks upon him. He is utterly alone and hungry and sleepy, so sleepy that he falls asleep next to his mother, hand and fingers still entwined.
A child's dreams are always innocent, even if the worst happens just before falling asleep. The little boy does nothing but shift to become more comfortable as he is lifted from the floor of the now burning house, he does not know that his family's insignia on his mother's middle finger is being taken, he does not know that when he wakes, there will be nothing left but his memories to remind him of the woman who gave birth to him and loved him passionately.
He shifts again and grabs for a blanket, his thin pale fingers coil around plushy material and brings it to his mouth. It still has not registered, he still does not know he is no longer in the dirty, filthy, garbage of city he calls home. He does not know that instead of shivering at night within a crib because his papa couldn't get a better paying job, he is warm, warmer than he ever has been, save being against his mother's chest with her arms encircling him. He does not know that a woman with auburn colored hair and honey colored eyes is standing above him, carefully trailing fingers within the material so that it tucks him in.
The boy dreams of happy laughter when he accidently levitates his papa out of the man's favorite sitting chair, he dreams of eating ice cream and making a mess of the simplest things. He does not dream of what he has heard as men in black cloaks rush the little house. Nor does he dream that he hears his papa telling his ma to run before his body hits the ground like a rag-doll, he does not dream of his mother's piercing scream as she refuses to tell where he is hiding. The horrid, bone chilling laughter that fills the house as a sinister voice instructs to burn everything in sight. These things are far from his mind as he slumbers.
The days turn to weeks, the little boys dreams have yet to tell the tale of the horrific night. The adults around him are baffled as this little boys wonders aimlessly around the halls, holding dearly to the same blanket that has given him comfort. His eyes glazed over with unushered tears, his body thin and frail and not because they are not feeding him properly. No, it's because to a child, to not realize what tragedy has befallen them, it is how the body reacts to such a boy who seeks comfort from a blanket, not a person. He seeks the only thing that has been a constant since that fateful night.
He does not know why he feels so alone, why he feels out of place and unwanted. And he cannot form the words he needs to say, to simply call out for what he wants, because deep down, it will mark the fact that he does know he will never again have what he desires. A child longing for his mother.
Two years have come and gone, two years the boy has said nothing, shown no emoition save aimless wondering. Two years he has refused to voice aloud the pain that constantly incases his heart. Little does he know, there is someone else that shares his pain. Someone who has been watching him since she got there, can see the pain in his eyes, the way he walks. She knows just as well that she is the same way.
She has been trying to work the courage she needs to speak to him, to feel that has she somebody besides misery and pain. She watches as he eats alone, hardly touching his food. She sees him wondering with a look of desperation that matches her own, she watches the same lady tuck him in every night when she is startled awake by nightmares. She wonders if he can feel the pull, the clash of two very different beings being brought together by the same force of hardship.
She can still see it clearly, the desperation of her fathers eyes as he hands her to her mother. The words on his lips when he clings to them as a man-no figure cloaked in black-tries to rip him away from them, the dying breath as he shields them from a blast of green light so bright that it wakes her every time. She can still remember the look upon his face, how his skin went from peach to ghost pale. The look in her mother's eyes as she fought to force the men out of her home, away from her daughters. Something she will never understand is how her mother had succeeded, how her mother had gotten her away before anything else could happen. She had woken up in the same place she now walks everyday, the painful reminder of what happened still fresh upon her child mind.
She breathes deeply, he shifts suddenly and that breaks the ice. Both meet each other's eyes and that pull she has felt, allows her to get closer, to begin to form a friendship. He seems weary of her, expecting her to disappear like everything else, he has no more room to spare within his fragile heart. The adults watch in anticipation as the little broken girl approaches the little broken boy, though neither are as little as they use to be.
"H-hi, I'm Lily..." Her voice is quivering badly as she stands somewhat close to the boy.
He looks up, his face immediately falls into panic. The fire red of her hair brings forth the memories that haunt him silently, he sees her eyes next and his facial expression calms. Eyes greener than grass; that of emeralds, catches his attention. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, two years of not speaking has left his voice nothing but a whisper.
"I'm Severus." He whispers while ducking his head in shame.
"May I?" Lily indicates to the empty seat beside him, he simple nods and places his hands into his lap. "Its nice to meet you Severus."
Severus says nothing as Lily looks at him, he is glancing at her through his hair. He can't help but notice the freckles that line her face across the bridge of her nose, the way her eyes swirl with unasked questions, questions he does not want to answer.
"What do like to do Severus, for fun?"
He shakes his head and returns his gaze to the floor, a terrified feeling is bubbling within him and it scares him. Something snaps in him when she lifts her hand and inches closer to him, the room they are in begins to tremble violently and the lights burst, sending showers of sparks and shattered glass to the floor.
"That's enough Lily!" A gentle yet stern female voice calls out of the darkness.
The same woman who had been tucking Severus in every night is walking toward them, something in her hand ignites and becomes a beacon within the darkness. Lily stands and sees Severus is on the floor with his knees to his chest, tears streaking down his face and eyes pinched tightly closed. The woman bends down and scoops Severus up, bringing him to her chest as she looks at Lily.
"This is not your fault Lily, do not blame him or yourself. He is just frightened and honestly in my opinion, you are the first person he has ever spoken to. Let him sleep and recover, maybe tomorrow he will open up to you."
Lily and Severus do not know that the games of the adults have twisted innocent children, have broken man and torn moral to shunder. They live in innocence but soon enough, every tragic fairytale must come to a gruesome end.