Potter. The boy who lived. Standing in this very hall. Even from a distance he could smell his cocky attitude. He must be loving the attention Snape thought to himself. Just like his ignorant father. He looked like him too, with his short brown hair and oval glasses. In a twisted sort of way, Snape was glad he looked like his father. It was much better than the alternative.
Imagine him looking like ... her. With her fiery hair and those...distracting...eyes...Snape closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Don't think about her. He told himself silently. Don't think about her, don't think about her, don't think about her. In the last few years he had started to live by those words. It was the only thing keeping him sane
. "Harry Potter." He heard Mcgonagall call out, her voice slightly faltering as she said his last name.
Snape watched as the boy climbed nervously to the stool. He had no doubt he would end up in the same house as his parents and he hoped he would too. The farther from Potter the better. "Gryffindor!" The hat shrieked after a moment hesitation. The boy looked up with joy and eagerly made his way towards the Gryffindor table.
However, right before sitting down, he turned. He turned and looked right at Snape.
Lily. All he could see was Lily. Lily with her long hair whipping around her in the wind. Lily with her silvery laugh rippling in the air. Lily with the flowers in her hair, and in the pockets of her dress. Lily as she danced barefoot in the dewy grass. Lily when she cried. When she yelled at him to leave her alone, to go away. With her tears sparkling on her cheeks, and her hands raking through her hair.
Lily when she begged him not to join Voldemort. When she sobbed in his shirt telling him not to do it. Lily when she told him she was engaged. Engaged to Potter and that she would love it if he could come. To celebrate with them.
And most vividly Lily, dead in his arms, her eyes lifeless and dull, her skin cold and white.
Lily with no smile or laugh.
Lily with no tears or sarcastic comments.
Lily with no heartbeat in her chest and no pulse in her fingers.
"This wasn't what i wanted!" His screams bouncing off the lifeless walls in her lifeless house. "THIS WASN'T WHAT I WANTED!" he had roared, losing the ounce of humanity he had left in him in the process.
One look at Potter's eyes and all those years trying to forget her was in vain. All those sleepless nights crying on the cold wooden floor begging to forget her. Begging to forget the way her hair felt on his shoulder. Begging to forget her hand in his own. Begging to forget her odd little habits. Begging, begging with tears streaming down his face- soaking his shirt, the memories that haunted each corridor and hallway of the school.
Begging, praying, pleading to forget those eyes. Eyes that were just as green as they were blue. Eyes that could laugh. Eyes that could sing. Eyes that could whisper. Eyes like no other... except for her son.