A/N: For those of you who have read Distant Memories, you'll notice that very recently I added a small Snape/Lily plotline. In order to keep track of the changes I made I recorded them separately on a word doc, and the more I read the progression the more I liked it as its own little vignette. There was so much left to say about their relationship, I felt it warranted its own story.
I hope you enjoy!
Prologue
The first time she saw him, she thought he might just have been the oddest person she had ever seen.
His smock, his long greasy hair, his sneering demeanor - all of this made Severus Snape seem quite unfriendly.
Petunia certainly seemed to hate him, and she loved her sister dearly. But Lily had always known that what he had told her was true - that she was a witch, that she had magical blood, ever since that fateful day he stepped out of the shadows of the playground bushes and filled her imagination with promises of another world.
"Sev?"
"Yeah."
They were sitting at the playground, their favorite meeting place. She knew what her sister thought of him, but she couldn't help it. She liked spending time with him. He was nice to her, and she quickly thought of him as her best friend. At times, he was too brash, too honest - at times, he seemed too proud. But she found him intriguing, a vast source of knowledge for a world that she didn't know at all.
For years, she would lay in bed, dreaming of Hogwarts, of magic and spells that she would learn. And when she couldn't dream anymore, when her imagination failed her and she had to know what would be real, he was always there to fill in the blanks.
"What kind of classes are we going to take?"
Snape looked thoughtful. His dark eyes glittered as he glanced at her.
"Charms, for one," he said. "I'm looking forward to potions, though. They're powerful magical substances. You can do almost anything with them."
Lily looked at him, eyes wide. "That sounds difficult. I hope I won't fail all my classes..."
"I've already told you, you won't," Snape said confidently. "You're smart. Full of magic. I know it."
She smiled up at him in thanks. They sat, for the rest of the afternoon, chatting animatedly about Diagon Alley and Quidditch, until night fell and both returned home.
The next day, Lily got her letter.
Excitement rushed through every particle of her body. She clutched the letter and flew out the front door, and ran down the cobbled stone path to the playground. Her red hair flew behind her, streaming into the wind as she sprinted through the streets.
"Sev! Sev!"
Snape was waiting for her at the playground, a smile playing on his lips. He eagerly watched her approach. "Did you get the letter?"
She beamed, waving the parchment in her hand. "Yes, and a witch named McGonagall came to the door to explain everything to my parents. Oh, I can't believe it, it finally feels so real!"
In one leap, she reached up and gave him a huge hug. When she released him, he looked slightly mollified.
Her green eyes glittered as she laughed. "Promise me something?" she asked breathlessly.
"Anything."
"No matter what happens, we'll be best friends, right?"
Snape's eyes were locked on hers.
"Always."
Years Later - Hogwarts
Severus Snape awoke with a start.
Shaking his head, he stood up from his bed. His long hair dark fell in front of his left eye - he pushed it back impatiently.
It had been six months since the death of Dumbledore. Winter was growing steadily nearer - there was no semblance of light beyond his window. He could just see snow beyond the mountains. Snape walked to the dresser, and caught sight of himself in the mirror.
The man who looked back at him was tired-looking, as if his soul had already lived a hundred years. He had bags under his eyes, pale, sallow skin, and a hooked nose that had been the source of jokes for most of his childhood. Snape turned quickly away from the mirror, mind full of thoughts.
He tried to fall back asleep but he couldn't. Every thought was consumed by Harry - whether he was still alive, whether he would eventually accomplish what Dumbledore had wanted him to accomplish...
Dumbledore.
Shaking his head, Snape descended the stairs of the Headmaster's office, and found the portrait of Dumbledore wide awake.
"Severus," Dumbeldore's portrait said, with a knowing smile. "Can't sleep again?"
"No," Snape said abruptly.
"Thinking about Harry?"
"Yes." Snape paused. "And about Lily."
"Ah." Dumbledore's voice became gentler. "Anything in particular?"
Snape was silent for a while. Finally, he spoke. "How different things would be, if I had chosen differently."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Your greatest choices are the ones you have already made. You cannot change the past - but you have done a more than admirable job ensuring that the future of the magical community looks brighter."
Snape looked up at the portrait. His eyes were pained.
"After all these years, I still dream about her. I think about her every day."
"That, Severus, is your greatest strength," Dumbledore said quietly.
Snape's eyes darkened. "Why is it that I have nothing, then?" he said bitterly. "Not her, not even the truth - in everyone else's eyes I am a traitor and a coward."
"You are the bravest man I know."
"She will never know. She's dead."
They stood in silence, man facing portrait and portrait facing man, for what seemed a long time.
Finally Snape turned away from the portrait. "She's dead," he said again. Every word felt like a stab wound. "Her last memory of me..." his voice quavered; he fell silent.
"She will know, Severus," Dumbledore's portrait said gently. "Somehow I think she already did."
Wordlessly, Snape left the main office and climbed back up the stairs. He tried again to fall asleep. All he could think of was Harry, whether he had gone to Godric's Hollow and survived Nagini... whether he had been captured because he was careless enough to use the Dark Lord's name...
And then suddenly, he thought of Lily. He thought of that day on the playground when she first got her letter.
He remembered her red hair and emerald eyes, blazing towards him as if he were the only person in the world, her letter clutched in hand. He remembered the hug she had bestowed upon him, how her embrace felt. He listened to the memory of her asking him if they'd always be friends, and he heard himself, his childish, 11-year-old voice saying:
"Always."
That memory floated through him, both a gift and a curse. A single tear slowly made its way down his face, and he fell asleep, Lily's voice still echoing in the back of his head.
