Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just my plot bunnies.
A/N: Chapter One is better than this prologue... Please give the story a chance! Another strange thing is that I wrote this backwards (I wrote the last paragraph, the second-to-last, etc. until I got to the first.) It's particularly tricky to do this with dialogue... Trust me.
Prologue:
"James Potter and his son are dead."
Severus Snape felt the bottom drop from his stomach; he had been secretly hoping that the Dark Lord would fail. But the Dark Lord never failed… Ever since Voldemort had announced that he had found the Potters' Secret Keeper, no less than Peter Pettigrew, Snape had known that Voldemort would finish what he had begun.
"You have done well, Severus. Do you remember your request that I spare the girl?"
"Y-yes, My Lord."
"The silly child thought that she could protect her son on her own, but she was no threat to me, and I decided to let her live. I thought it would be a shame to let the ministry find her…" He paused. "I trust you will take care of her?"
With a movement of his wand, a slim figure drifted from the shadows, floating just inches above the ebony carpet, apparently asleep.
"She is unharmed?" He could not keep the anxiousness from his voice. She looked so pale…
"There is… no lasting damage," Voldemort responded. "Surely you are not going soft, Severus?" His quiet tone was suddenly dangerous.
"Never, My Lord," he responded, swallowing a burning feeling in his throat. "But it would be such a shame if she were… unfit." He hoped that Voldemort did not notice the way he spat out the last word, as if it were poison. She's alive, he told himself, She's alive, and nothing else matters… "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child?" Dumbledore's voice echoed, unbidden, in his mind. He pushed it away.
The Dark Lord seemed to have noticed nothing. He nodded curtly, sending the young woman into Snape's arms with a lazy flick of his wand.
"Your humble servant's gratitude is great, My Lord," Severus muttered, bowing low.
"Lord Voldemort rewards the faithful, Severus. She is a pretty thing…" There was no emotion in his voice; it was cold, factual, as if he was commenting about something other than a human being.
Snape backed out of the room still carrying Lily's limp form. He could have levitated her, of course, but she seemed to weigh hardly anything. He noticed that her cheeks were slightly hollow, perhaps the months of fear and hiding had taken their toll…
The halls of this mansion were narrow and dim, like most of the old Pureblood family houses that had been passed through generations. Finding a place to stay was never a problem for the Dark Lord, there were many Pureblood families that were honored to accommodate Voldemort and his followers… or were too frightened to refuse…
He slipped silently into the room he had been granted. It was dark and tiny, almost closet-like, but much better than his room as a child. Laying the unconscious girl on the bed, he bent over her, wondering what Voldemort had meant by "No lasting damage."
"Episkey," he whispered tapping at a cut on her hand and a bruise above her eye, watching as the injuries disappeared.
He sat down in a chair by the bed, wrestling with a sudden desire to kiss her, to run his fingers through that dark red hair… Now there was nothing to do but wait… although he was rather sure she wouldn't be happy to see him.