Severus crumpled the announcement in his hand. The owl was still sitting on the table; Lily's owl, a black barn owl that was absolutely unmistakable. When she'd flown into his window, Severus had nearly leapt with joy—he hadn't heard from Lily since he refused to attend her wedding 5 months ago to that idiot James Potter. He knew who should have been standing beside her at the altar instead of that empty-headed git. He'd received pictures from Lily's mother and almost immediately tossed them into the fire (after lamenting on how extremely beautiful she was). It was almost a shock that he'd even been invited, after everything that had happened between the two of them; it was a tribute to Lily's amazing good nature, however, and Severus was absolutely brokenhearted to reject.
Now, sitting at his kitchen table, his eyes filled with tears and his fists clenched around the blue hand-decorated envelope and card. His heart sank as he reread the words—"James and Lily Potter announce the birth of their son Harry James Potter"—and he stepped away.
Birth.
Son.
5 months.
Severus fumed at the thought of James—that horrible, foul-mouthed, swine—even touching his pure, white Lily. He nearly vomited as the words circled through his brain, a constant reminder that she was no longer his Lily, but that they now belonged to different worlds. He yearned for the pictures her mother had sent him, to see if there was a possibility of this being a sick twisted joke by the Marauders; Lily had always been slender, and a pregnancy would show instantly on her body. Alas, the only photos that remained were of days long past; days that only existed (he suspected) in his own memory.