So I saw the movie last night, and then today I went back to the cinema and watched it again (yeah...). I'm not going to go into a long review here, because that's not what you came here for, but let me just say this:
I have never been a fan of Snape. Back when he was still nothing more than an evil potions teacher, I seriously couldn't see what everybody saw in him. But with all the revelations of book7, that changed somewhat. Not that I'm a big fan of him now, but I guess I understand better why most people like him so much.
In the final film -7.2 - there is a moment in Snape's memories (in the Pensieve) that really tore at me, much more than I'd expected, and writing this is a way of dealing with that as well as a tribute of sorts to the wonderfulness of J.K. Rowling, the Harry Potter world and Alan Rickman.
Finally, I'm not a native English speaker. I tried to keep this 'British', as I always find myself annoyed when there are such obvious Americanisms in a fanfiction story based on British books - I know it's nitpicking, but I really hope I succeeded in that!
So here goes - enjoy!
He enters the house with a dread that has sunk deep into his stomach - dread even worse than when he had heard the Dark Lord's plan – to kill her, and her family.
It had happened now. The house bears all the evidence. He passes James, lying on the floor, and even in death cannot summon a feeling of grief. Not when…
He doesn't want to go on – he wonders why he has come here, tonight, why he has made that decision. Why he tortures himself.
He enters the room at the end of the hallway, and freezes abruptly.
She lies on the floor, body twisted at an awkward angle. She is facing him; he can see her eyes, still open but broken. Her face is smooth as ever – unmarred even by tears.
A cry pierces the air, but he cannot look away from her. Lily…
Lily…
He has never imagined this pain; he has never imagined a feeling like this. His love has been painful, save for a few wonderful moments – yes, he has not loved happily.
Now, the moments before seem spent in exquisite happiness.
Lily… His beautiful Lily. Her hair already seems duller; she already seems so small in death.
His lovely Lily…
He finds himself beside her body without thought, still looking at her face. The peace that it bears tears at his heart. How had she been able to face death with such tranquility in her heart, when the people she left behind were broken? How could she simply …go?
He holds her body against his, feeling its curves for the first time, and he cries. He cries for his pain, and her death, and the peace on her face. He cries and yells, furious with the world for ending his love this way. He feels as if he's entered a black hole, a hole so dark he cannot even see himself, and the pain in his body is so physical that he curls into himself, rocking back and forth like he saw her rock her son once – back and forth in an endless mantra.
His body refuses to comply with what his mind is telling him, far away as if speaking from a dim, dark place. He cannot help her anymore.
And, for the first time, he takes his eyes off her face. Her son is quiet, looking at them with Lily's eyes, and he cannot believe that his eyes are wide-open, while hers are forever closed. He stares at the child a long time, trying to find a trace of his Lily, any sign of her within the boy. He finds none.
She is gone. He knows loss; he knows that in the first moments, one cannot believe the truth.
But he's never known loss like this. Even when there was a chance, before, that she would be murdered, that the protection he had begged Dumbledore for didn't work, he had never considered the possibility with vigour. In his mind, she simple couldn't leave; but here was the evidence, and he cursed every moment he had ever spent with her, for simply being and for not cherishing. He had played with time foolishly; and now it had escaped him forever.
A sound outside reaches his ears and he stiffens , looking at the door. He cannot be seen here; it is the one thing he must avoid at all costs.
He lays her down gently, carefully, and without conscious thought his hand brushes a lock of endlessly soft hair away from her face. It's still warm and alive and he wants to hold her again, to beg with the world to make her alive again, and please don't do this to me.
Please don't do this to me.
His love is so beautiful... Tragic, but beautiful.
Finally, the title comes from Michael Jackson's song 'She's out of my life'. It's a beautiful song and strangely fitting for Snape, although I think MJ is not as wounded as Snape was.