The house was dark, the hour was late. The clouds covering the stars were grey, heralding the oncoming downpour. A man sat in the darkness at the kitchen table, one empty bottle of Firewhisky on the table and one half-drunk bottle in his hand. His mind was buzzing, but not enough to blot out the image of her lifeless eyes framed by still-beautiful red curls. A sob caught in his throat and he took another swig of the alcohol in an attempt to wash it away.
Green eyes floated in space before him, taunting him, causing him physical pain.
"No!" he screamed as they faded away; he very nearly lunged out to grab the hallucination. A flash of far-off lightning lit the room, breaking him from his daze. He wondered whether alcohol had indeed been the best idea. If only he'd had enough sense to simply take dreamless sleep...
Thunder echoed from a distance off. A slow drizzle began to fall, the thin walls of his family house doing little to nothing to quieten the drops hitting the roof.
His hand skittered across the table, fingers pale against the dark wood, to find the thick, bound album that was filled with memories from his childhood - common muggle photos that didn't move, but still were enough to tell her story. He was on the verge of opening it before his arm recoiled, taking the hand with it.
I can't. I don't want-
He took another mouthful of Firewhisky.
Unbidden, the memory of the first time he had seen her swam into his head. A bright, cheerful young girl who played on the neighborhood playground accompanied by her sister. His first thoughts had been of how beautiful she was, of how her smile seemed to light up the world. He had only hidden deeper in the bushes that had become his refuge from the teasing bullies who chased him at least every-other day.
From the first day on he had gone to the playground whenever he could, simply to watch the girl play. Granted, she wasn't always there at the same time he was, but when he caught a glimpse of her it was as if he could forget his family troubles by loosing himself in her smile. 'If only she were a witch,' he'd found himself thinking, 'we would be able to go to Hogwarts together. We could spend hours together and we would be best of friends.'
But reality would catch up with his young mind and he would find himself thinking much sadder things. Namely, 'Why would she even want me as a friend?' and 'I'll just have to go it alone, as I always have."
A smile came onto his face as his thoughts turned to the first time he had seen her do magic.
"Tuney! Tuney, look!"
A seven-year old Lily Evans stood in a cloud of leaves that were all shades of green. They danced around her as if in a high wind, but her long red hair laid at her shoulders, undisturbed.
"Look Tuney! Look what they're doing!" Lily said, mouth open in wonder.
A taller, blonde girl came over, but far from being impressed, she looked dumbfounded.
"I told you I could do it again!" Lily shouted gleefully, giggling and spinning in a circle within the leaves.
"Stop it, Lily!"
'Tuney' grabbed Lily's arm and pulled hard, her mouth in a frown. The leaves stopped spinning and fell to the ground sadly.
"I told you you're not supposed to do that!" she told her sister angrily, still holding the younger girl's arm tightly. "It's not right, Lily!"
They had argued all the way back home, but Severus sat in the bushes, a warmth burning inside of his chest. She was! Lily Evans was a witch!
All his dreams (what very few he had) had come true! They could be friends, he could tell her all about magic and the magical world, they could go to Hogwarts, swim with the Giant Squid together, make potions and learn charms and jinxes and all sorts of magic-
He cut himself off, deciding to slow down his approach.
"Start with the friend thing first," he said out loud to himself. "We can be friends. Best friends. And then everything else will come after."
End Flashback
Unfortunately, becoming friends hadn't been that easy. It took young Severus a long time to work up enough courage to tell Lily the truth about her magic. Finally, he had found a day where they were the only two at the park: Lily and Petunia. He hid in the bushes as he usually did, waiting for just the right moment. When she had jumped off the swing he had been scared for a moment, but then amazed as she fell gracefully to the ground. He had been sure her magic was even stronger than his own!
Lily had shown Petunia the flower in her hand and he had gazed at her hungrily, wishing he had as much control as she did.
And he decided he had found his moment when 'Tuney' had asked the question 'How do you do it?'. His mother had told him stories of wizards and magic since he was old enough to understand them (away from his father, of course, as he didn't seem to like magic much at all) and he couldn't help jumping out into the open for the first time.
'Isn't it obvious?' he had asked because, to him, it was. The only way such things could happen were because she was a witch. Because of magic.
He told her so, but they didn't receive the news as he had suspected. Both seemed affronted as he had named her a witch, which confused him. Surely being a witch is a compliment! He remembered thinking, before realizing that, since neither of the sisters truly knew of magic, they wouldn't understand exactly what being a witch meant.
He had gone on to explain how he was a wizard, and how his mother was a witch.
Tuney hadn't responded very well to that. Well, more to the fact that he had been watching them. She had shrieked something about spying on them, but he had been angry about that. It wasn't spying! He had only been in his hiding place!
Tuney had pulled Lily away before he could get another word in, and he had been left in utter disappointment. All the waiting and watching and it had all gone terribly wrong!
Another boom of thunder, loud enough to rattle the windows, interrupted Severus Snape's thoughts. He was pulled back from that warm summers day to his dark house and heartbreak. A few tears slipped down his face at the thought of a young Lily - so innocent had she been. He had been the one to show her the wonders of the magical world, had accompanied her to Diagon Alley for her school things every year, despite the tension between their two houses. He had comforted her after days when Potter had been a complete prat, annoying her to no end and when her sister had refused to reply to her letters home.
The downpour started and with it came the feelings of immense regret he had tried to suppress over the years by blaming everything on Potter. He, not Potter, had been the one to shove her away angrily. He, not Potter, had given into peer pressure and let the dreaded M-word slip from his mouth, thereby ruining their relationship - the only thing that had held him together after his mother's early death. He hadn't told Lily about his mother's death, not wanting to worry her right before OWLs, but he had never had the chance to. The summer after their fifth year had been a dismal one, what with Lily's avoidance and only his father's sullen company at home.
More and more tears fell down the man's cheeks beneath the curtain of dark hair. He had lost her love forever, to Potter. And now she was gone. Dead.
A strangled sob left his mouth, but was drowned out by the pouring rain. He lifted the bottle to his lips and downed the last few centimeters of liquid in one gulp. They burned as they went down and he appreciated the pain. He deserved the pain. He deserved every bit of pain the universe could throw at him for what he had done.
He cursed himself for ever joining the Death Eaters. He cursed his being in the Hog's Head on the night Trelawney had given the prophecy. He cursed his own stupidity of giving the known bit of the prophecy to his 'master' to do with as he pleased.
His earilier words to the headmaster echoed in his head and he found himself repeating them out loud. "I wish... I with I were dead."
He deserved to die, not Lily. Not perfect, sweet Lily. Even if he would have had to leave her with Potter her whole life, there was no denying his love for her. Potter would have kept her safe, no question. Potter the Auror, the Gryffindor hero-
He found himself sneering, but couldn't keep it on his face.
My fault. All my fault.
Dumbledore had promised to keep them safe, but had failed. Dumbledore wouldn't have needed to keep them safe if he, Severus, had not repeated that stupid prophecy like the lapdog he was, if he had simply seen the light earlier and never gone down the road to becoming a Death Eater. She was dead, gone, passed. And ultimately it was all his fault.
He had loved her. He still loved her. He knew that now. Seeing her dead body, he hadn't been able to resist. He had cradled her lifeless body in his arms, rocking her back and forth as her limbs lost any heat they might have retained.
He loved her enough to swear to protect her son. He would do it, despite the boy being Potter spawn. Dumbledore had said the boy had her eyes.
You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?
A shudder wracked his body.
Severus loved her and had become a spy to keep her safe. He loved her enough to risk his life by becoming a double agent, by swearing to protect her son from harm. He loved her more than Potter ever could have, ever would have. He would have died for her in an instant, would have protected her to the end, with no regard for his own wellbeing. But his love hadn't saved her from the terrors of fate.
Because sometimes, Severus thought, staring out at the thundering rain that was still pouring out from the heavens like rivers of tears, Sometimes even so much love isn't nearly enough.
Disclaimer: Some lines (all of them spoken/thought words) came directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, chapter 33, The Prince's Tale
Written for: Fanfiction, School of Imagination, English Assessment 2: prompt "Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough" ~Pierre Beaumarchais
Thank you for reading!