It was just another old decrepit children's playground, one of thousands in England. But to Severus Snape, it was more than that. It was the first place he saw Her. His black robes made a satisfying swish behind him as he sat on the rotting seesaw. Those swing sets. Now, the paint was flaking off and the rubber seats were half-melted and deformed, but he remembered when they were shiny and new, a fascination to the children that lived in this part of town. He remembered crouching behind the nearly leafless tree, watching Her from a distance, too self-conscious to sit on the swing next to her. Red hair swinging behind her, a joyous laugh. She had the loveliest laugh.
A crunching sound jolted Severus out of his reminiscing, and he swung around, wand at the ready. "Who's there?"
A pale bony hand rose above the woman's face, trembling with fear. "Don't hurt me!"
"P-Petunia Evans?" Severus lowered his wand subconsciously, still staring at the unexpected guest.
"You're… You're that boy from Spinner's End. Was it you? They told me it was one of your kind that did it!" Petunia shook, whether with fear or with anger, Severus could not say.
"Don't be ridiculou-"
"Liar!" She shrieked. "Liar! Did you lie to her too? Did you lie to her the night you killed her? Did you kill my sister? Did you kill Lily?"
Severus opened his mouth, but for once in his life, he didn't know how to appease her. He could not deflect blame. He felt the accusation sink into his skin like a hot iron, branding him with an M. Madness. Mudblood. Murder.
Petunia slumped. "I hope you think about her. Every day. Every night. Think about what you have done until you can no longer eat. No longer sleep. And someday, I hope you will end your own life. As you ended hers."
Petunia slowly shuffled away, and Severus was alone. He had no right to be in this playground. This was Lily's space.
Muttering an incantation, a small flame appeared in the center of the playground, quickly spreading on the dry grass. He turned his back, not wishing to see the seesaw crumble into the fire, the plastic slide caramelize, and the rubber seats on the swingset melt. He had killed Lily Evans. Why shouldn't he kill the little pieces of her that remained?