Severus and the Mirror
Night had fallen over the whole of Scotland, that included Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Each of the respective houses were asleep in their dormitories dreaming of whatever pleasantries they desired. The only sound in the corridors was the almost silent footfalls of Miss Norris, Filch's cat.
Well, Miss Norris and Severus Snape, potions master and Head of Slytherin house.
He was silent as the grave, breezing through the corridors of Hogwarts, cape billowing in his wake. He was little more than a shadow, no more presence than a ghost. Even less prescience perhaps, for Snape moved in a manner undetected by any means known to Wizard kind or muggles.
Dumbledore had told him not to go looking for it. That it would only cause Severus more pain, more aches in his already broken heart. The potions master did not care. He did not care at all how much it hurt him. He had to see her again; he needed to tell her how he felt.
The corridor was just like any other, stone, carved into the shapes of castle hallways. The stone floor was worn smooth with the scraping of thousands of feet, Severus' own feet made not a sound against the stone floor as he crept along. Filch wouldn't be patrolling these corridors anyways, he would be off in his bed, sleeping away. Even if the janitor caught him what was he to do? Severus Snape was the potions master and Head of Slythrin house, Filch was nothing.
The door he'd long sought was looming before him, an object of blackened wood and metal, so like every other door in the castle. Yet it was unlike every other door in the castle, for this one held within its confines something Severus wanted very much to see, something he longed for with all his heart.
Her.
The door swung open softly on enchanted hinges, neither rusting nor sticking. The classroom inside was darkened and in a sorry state of repair. From the stacking of the chairs and desks, not to mention the cobweb covered blackboard, covered furthermore by a thin layer of dust that had settled gently over every other object in the room, Snape deduced this particular class room hadn't been used in years. That didn't matter to him in the slightest. What did matter was the object, an object currently occupying the centre of the old class room. It was tall, much taller than him and covered in a cloth as dark as the midnight draping the castle. Snape's heart was racing with a torrent of emotions, fear, joy, and sorrow, for what else could this be? It must be, the Legendary Mirror of Erised.
The power of the Mirror was legendary; gazing into it would reveal the deepest desire of the heart belonging to the onlooker. Snape knew what that was, he knew lesser men had been driven to madness by the terrible and wonderful power of this enchanted mirror. But risks be damned! He had to try.
Hands trembling, Snape reached for the cloth covering the mirror. In his grasp it was silky and smooth, beautiful really, a cloth fit for a king. Severus pulled the cloth down viciously with both hands, tossing it aside; the cloth was not what he sought.
The mirror was beautiful its glass interior was unblemished and sparkling, though currently dark. The surrounding frames were of the finest mahogany and ancient words in a long dead tongue carved across the top of it. Snape ran a hand across its shimmering glass surface. It was cool to the touch, far cooler than any glass should be, for this was no ordinary glass. The power held behind its shimmering surface was almost incomprehensible, even for a wizard artifact. A cool breeze blew through the empty classroom, ruffling his collar and causing his hair to dance around it.
This was it, there was no turning back.
Severus Snape closed his eyes and thought of her; it was easy really. She'd never left him, burned deep into his soul. Her crimson hair, the radiant smile, the sweet sound on her voice. The kindness she'd shown a gangly, awkward boy with a mop of dark hair, loved by no one else. It almost broke his heart to think of her but he persisted in his need to see her one more time.
The mirror's surface shimmered and a mist over came it as the legendary artifact brought Professor Snape's deepest, most potent desire to life. A woman formed in the mirror, a young woman in a Gryffindor robe, her eyes twinkling; looking right through him with her piercing blue eyes.
Lilly Evans. The woman that Snape loved, always. A woman who'd married his worst nemesis and bore his child. A woman whose son was publicly Snape's greatest irritant and privately Snape's greatest pride. A woman long dead.
The pain in his chest at the sight of her was the most potent thing he had ever felt, a burning hot poker rammed through his heart. Yet at the same time he felt overjoyed to see her again, even if it was just her reflection. He felt a sorrowful pride in the fact that she looked identical to the image in his mind of her. She hadn't dulled at all.
The potions master traced the image of her face with a shaking hand, not sure what do next. Unaware of himself, the head of Slythrin house found himself moving closer to the mirror.
"Hello Lilly," he told the image of the woman almost silently, his voice cracking as he said her name for the first time in years. Lilly simply kept smiling back at him from within the mirror. Blinking rapidly, he tried desperately to stop the leaking tears that were already dripping out of his eyes and off the end of his hook shaped nose. They landed on his ebony boots with tiny splashes, leaving damp blotches.
"You would be proud of your son," He continued, pressing his hand against the mirror, the other hand gripping the side of it. "He excelled in school today. Pity he doesn't apply himself at potions like you did." A sad little smile flashed across his sharp features. "You always were a diligent student." The mist in his eyes became more obscuring, the tears trickling down his robes onto the cold stone floor, more free flowing.
"I miss you," he croaked out, his voice laced with the deepest sorrow. "Every day you are gone is like a Hippogriff kicking me in the chest. Yet I carry on, for what other choice to I have?" He couldn't see at all now, his eyes were too watery but his grip on the mirror tightened, his knuckles going white with the strength of his grip. He was pushing himself against the mirror now, trying to force himself through it and into a world where his beloved Lilly yet lived. His sobs wracked his body with agony as he pressed his face tightly against the glass. His hands kept running over the image of her, trying to grasp her, as dry heaves wracked his body. The mirror continued to feel cool under his skin, not the warmth he sought. Every part of her was perfect, the piercing blue eyes, the flaming red hair the dash of freckles, it was her. So close and yet forever beyond his reach. The sorrow felt by the potions master was overpowering, crushing him with grief. To think, she'd chosen James over him. James, his arch rival, the man who'd made his life so difficult and then she had passed on, slain by the Dark Lord himself! Severus could hardly stand the pain of seeing her beautiful, whole and well. Despite his breaking down, the image of Lilly never moved; she just continued to beam down upon him with that illuminating smile.
The Head of Slythrin house could take it no more, collapsing in a heap at the mirror's base, his robes piling around him. The man held his head in his hands, crying feebly and weakly into them. The world around him faded away and it was like only the two of them mattered. Snape raised one shaking, tear-stained hand up to the mirror, grasping at her image. His hand traced the image of her hand with a weary grasp. He couldn't feel her, not really. Severus turned his eyes upward, training them on her image, fixing it back in his mind.
He was expecting the scene in the mirror to change, but change it did. Perhaps in his grief he more fully realized the desires of his heart, painful though they were to dig up. Perhaps fate had more in store, to show him what could have been. Another figure entered the mirror, Snape's eyes widened as he realized the true nature of that figure, himself. He was younger, his face not so lined with sorrow, his nose not so sharp but it was undoubtedly him. The image of him was wearing the head robes of a Slythrin House master, like and yet so unlike his own, he was beaming happily, as if nothing in the world could possibly bother him.
The image of Lilly turned towards the image of Snape her face beaming with pride and joy. The image of Severus took the woman in his arms, kissing her longingly, the kind of kiss reserved for those who are deeply and truly in love. They held each other longingly, almost as if afraid to let go, locked in their passionate embrace. There was more.
A small child entered the image of the mirror now. He wore the school robes of a Gryffindor, no more than ten years old. He was a lanky boy, with a mop of dark hair and a hook nose. Yet his eyes, they were a piercing green. Lilly's eyes, Severus knew, even from his position at the mirror's base he knew. He'd never forget them. The image of Snape picked up the boy smiling with radiant joy, a kind of joy Snape himself knew he could never feel. He twirled the boy around, laughing with him as Lilly looked on with joy. The image of Severus kissed the boy atop his head and ran a hand through the mop of hair, laughing as the boy showed him a paper. A small child's drawing of his family, and Snape knew in that moment he was looking at the son he could never have.
Snape sat there, in a pile on the floor, watching the future he could never have flash before his eyes. The sorrow he felt was nothing compared to the guilt that he was partially responsible for losing her. He knew if given the chance he'd do it all differently. He wouldn't have spoken up that afternoon, slandering her heritage. He wouldn't have worked for the Dark Lord at all, he would have stayed loyal, been content with his lot in life, but you can't change the past. You carry your regrets with you forever, Snape knew that. Lilly had been brave, she'd resisted Voldemort and it had cost her, her life. Yet here he was, contemplating the thought of going back to the Dark Lord because of a little hardship. What was he thinking? In that moment, despite the crushing weight of despair pressing down on his shoulders, Snape knew what he must do. Despite his reservations, despite his sorrow and the danger to himself Snape knew he had a job to do; he had to keep spying for Dumbledore and fight the call of the shadows. After all, she had died to fight them; he wasn't going to allow such a future to have been wasted for nothing. He wouldn't let her sacrifice be in vane. He would not allow it.
Snape gazed into the mirror, tears streaming down his face from his position on the floor, looking at the future that might have been. But even the strongest men can only take so much of such a vision and Snape finally could bare it no more.
"Stop." He whimpered to the mirror under his breath. The images in the mirror continued to taunt him with the happy future he could never have. "Stop!" He said with more force, raising his head from his hands. Nothing changed. "STOP!" Severus screamed with all his force, drawing the wand from his belt and blasting the mirror with the most powerful cruse he had in his arsenal. The mirror of Erised was an extremely powerful artifact, not to be damaged by magic such as his. Yet the mirror's images faded away, the last thing he saw in its depths was Lilly's smile. Then all was gone.
"Severus?" A soft voice asked from behind him, at the entrance way. The Potions master spun around from his position on the floor to see Albus Dumbledore standing there, his long beard touching the floor and his eyes traced with sorrow.
"What do you want?" Severus spat, his voice shaking with the grief he'd put himself through willingly.
Dumbledore approached the man, sitting next to him silently, "To give you a friendly shoulder." He said simply, his expression unreadable but his tone sincere.
Snape rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, wiping the tears from them, yet he could not rub the sorrow from his own soul. "It was..." Snape's voice quivered, "It was everything you said it would be." Snape broke down, burying his face in the Head Master's shoulder. He mustn't be reduced to this, a bubbling mess. He was head of Slytherin house! He was the master of potions! He…. He could bare it no longer, weeping, letting his emotions flow over.
Dumbledore patted Snape's back casually, "Severus, I understand the grief you must have gone through. That is why I myself never look into that mirror. For I know what it can do to a man. Seeing something he can never have, a mistake he can never change." Dumbledore gripped Snape's shoulder, "We do what we can to honor the memories of those who leave us." His hand trailed down over Severus' heart, "However, we must remember, those who leave us, never truly leave us. They find permanent residence in here." He patted the place above the heart with a kind hand.
Snape rose his tear drenched face and looked right at Dumbledore, "I love her." It was a simple yet powerful statement, spoken by a man with nothing else left.
"After all this time, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, still gripping Snape's shoulder.
The potions master took a deep breath. "Always."
Dumbledore nodded. He hadn't really expected any other answer. "Perhaps you should get some sleep, Severus. You have classes tomorrow, besides that... you should not dwell upon what happened here tonight, you'll only cause yourself more grief."
Snape nodded shakily, rising to his feet, "Yes indeed," he coughed, trying to clear his system of emotions. "Good night, Headmaster," Snape said with a stiff bow, which Dumbledore returned in kind.
Severus shoved the doors aside as he retreated from the class room, fleeing back to the sanctuary of his own chambers. He closed and locked the door, he even lit a fire in his fireplace, but nothing could remove the chill he felt. When he closed his eyes and laid his head upon the pillow, sleep overtook him and he dreamed. He dreamed of her, though he did not want to. For Severus Snape would never care for anything as much as he cared for her.