Happy Valentine's Day everyone! This, I think, was hidden in my oneshots folder for some time. It's one of my favourite complete works. I hope you all will enjoy it! R&R - even better, check out the photo of the necklace at dA. I am Cynmia.
My Lily
It was just a few weeks after New Years. The end of January, in fact.
He had gone shopping on one of his rare trips to Hogsmeade, sometime before Christmas. He had found the most delightful present, but the necklace, he eventually decided, could not be sent then.
That decision was mostly influenced by Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Lord's letter.
He fiddled with the silver chain, nervous as he stood alone in the Owlery. Sighing into the late evening air, he put the delicate piece back into the packaging.
And in a moment of utter cowardliness, he slipped the package back into his robe pocket, leaving the tower in silence, head bowed in shame of himself.
An echoing sigh not belonging to the dark-haired man issued into the air. 'Oh, Severus my boy…' and twinkling eyes dimmed to meld and match with the stars in the sky.
He groaned silently as he crossed out another line on the parchment. Instead of sleeping, he had lain in bed listening to the snores of his dormmates, generally upset with himself, as he didn't send the gift as planned.
'She's going to be so disappointed.'
'She still hates you anyways.' His conscience retorted. He winced and massaged his temples.
It was then he decided to write something instead. He was good with words, he thought.
That's how he ended up sitting at the desk, writing dribble.
5 am in the morning, on January 31st, 1978, he sent the short note off.
Brilliant green eyes widened as the stately school owl approached, clutching a folded scrap of parchment, blank on the outside. It landed smoothly onto her empty plate, and she picked it up, ignoring the others whispering around her. She recognized the script immediately, and it took some time and shaking hands in order not to instinctively burn it. Poetic words caught her eye as she unfolded the parchment.
In my eyes,
You are not only my heart's dark fire;
You are my one dark flower,
My Lily, for I have fallen.
But you already have been picked,
Fresh by a Lion I so despise;
And so, I have failed.
Her eyes were itching. Why, oh why were her eyes itching?! Hastily, she shoved the note into a random robe pocket. A few of her friends looked at her in concern, but she waved them off, giving a nonsensical excuse they all fell for.
The entire time, it felt as though obsidian eyes were drilling into the back of her head.
On Valentine's Day, just two weeks after her birthday, she received her usual amount of courting gifts, from people in denial about her relationship with James. But the gift of a single stalk of purple hyacinth she kept in a glass vase. It never faded, to her surprise. She didn't know the stalk had been dosed in an Ever-Fresh Potion. She also didn't know the true meaning of the gift. It was only pretty blossoms in her verdant eyes.
About six months had passed since her 18th birthday and of Valentine's. They were graduating. Graduating! For seven years she had anticipated this moment, and it was time! The giddiness that was usually well contained surged in her muggleborn blood, and she felt as if she could fly without magic.
Unconsciously, her fingers crept up to feel the flower pendant necklace she had received this morn. It was most unusual, but the glint of the blackest onyx matched hers (and everyone's) graduation robes spectacularly. She exhaled, thinking it was almost sentimental of her ex-best-friend to send her such a thing after hurting her. The note that came with it (shorter than the one on her birthday) was the last straw.
He has called.
I'm sorry, and I will always be.
May you have good luck in marriage and family.
- S. T. S.
In spite of herself, the last line reminded her of her engagement to James Potter, which caused an uplifting mood that stayed throughout the whole ceremony. She pointed didn't look at the stage when the sallow-faced, lanky teen went up to receive his award for Potions, and when he received his diploma.
Not even a year later, bottomless black eyes shut tightly and held back tears and anger as he watched her…and him, dancing and kissing in the falling of leaves. Repeat. A photo. But he was a broken man now.
She wore it on her wedding day. On her honeymoon.
She wore it as she birthed her first and later only son.
She wore it and panicked when the chain broke, causing her to scrounge the house looking for the flower piece, only to have her husband question her ("It was my mum's!") and only to find the tiny flower in the hands of Harry, who stared at it as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.
When Dumbledore told them of the threatening danger, she vowed to have the necklace be passed onto her son if she would not live to wear it again. She knew it had protection charms laden all over it.
She wore it when she died defending her baby. But the necklace was not given to Harry.
Instead…
A lonely man stood at the remains of the Potter home. He reeled and shook, as if something was causing him immense pain that would never, ever stop.
Something glinted on the ground in the moonlight, and he bent down to pick it up, curiosity and remembrance coursing through his mind. Holding back a sob, he clutched the broken chain and scratched onyx flower to his chest.
'My Lily, for I have fallen.'