He swept into the Great Hall and walked towards his seat upon the high table, purposely diverting his gaze away from the crowd of Hogwarts students that were milling about, laughing, eating. The first years were enjoying their first meal at Hogwarts, marveling at the ghosts that swooped in and out of the banners and pillars. The students who were returning wolfed down their food and answered the questions of the first-years through full mouths, waving their spoons and forks about as they explained various things about how Hogwarts worked. As he sat, he heard several shrieks of surprise from the Ravenclaw table. It must have been one of the ghosts, idly floating out of the one of the serving tables. Perhaps Peeves. He heard one of the Slytherin boys boasting loudly, "Yeah? Well I've got a Nimbus 2000 coming my way for Christmas! You'll see, I'll be up and ready by the tryouts!" Mumbles of doubt came from the other boys.
From the high table, he heard the nervous twittering of Professor Quirrell as he stammered his way through a rumor about werewolves running about in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid boomed back, "S'not possible! No werewolves are runnin' about in my forest!" Obviously intimidated by the much, much larger man, Quirrell nodded his head passively and went back to sipping his soup, with occasional nervous glances up at Hagrid. Professor McGonagall was clucking at a couple of first-years to straighten up their robes, and the tiny Professor Flitwick stood near her, nodding his head sagely as if he could force the students to do anything. He had almost reached his seat when he passed the headmaster's seat.
Dumbledore reached a hand out and stopped him in his path. "Oh, Severus, how good of you to join us.."
He cursed himself in his mind. He had almost made it to the seat, and then Dumbledore would've never said anything, not with the other teachers potentially listening. "Yes, sir?" he forced himself to say.
He turned his eyes down to the tall old man sitting in the ornate headmaster's chair. His beard was tied neatly and folded nicely in his lap. His half-moon glasses were perched on the edge of his nose and he looked up with those kindly, warm eyes. "I hope you did not forget that present today in the Hall is-"
"I know," he said, cutting Dumbledore off before he could say the name. He couldn't deal with it, not quite yet. He needed a few more moments of peace and quiet before the torment began anew. He had heard things about the child, and all of them pointed to him living in misery for seven years until the child moved on from Hogwarts.
Dumbledore smiled softly and nodded his head once. "I was going to say that I hope you did not forget that the first-year students who will be in your potions' class are in the Hall tonight and you should probably learn their names to become acquainted with them before classes start."
His teeth clenched. The old man was so very clever and it infuriated him at times. He nodded curtly and growled out, "I will do that, sir," and moved on past the large chair, down the row to his own seat. When he was seated, he merely stared at the empty plate in front of him for a few moments before he internally groaned and his fists clenched and unclenched under the table. Seated next to him was Quirrell, who piped up, "Oh, Severus! Try the pumpkin pies, they're very good, and they haven't been tampered with.." He ignored the bumbling man and took a deep breath, then another, and then another. He began to raise his eyes.
Severus Snape looked up and finally took in the sight of the swarm of students. He didn't even know what house the child had been put into. He looked at the Ravenclaw table and examined it thoroughly. He looked at every student's face and moved on when he was sure that there was no resemblance. It was the same with the Hufflepuffs. His heart began to sink and his stomach was constricting. No, no, please, not Slytherin.. Then he could have to see the child's face every day. He couldn't take that. The child had her eyes, he knew that. He had seen them, once, ten years ago..
But as he scanned the Slytherin table, he found no familiar eyes, except those of Draco Malfoy. Severus rolled his eyes. He couldn't hear what the little fool boy was saying, but by the looks of it, he was gloating about something that his father had done, said, or bought. Suddenly, he realized that there was only one table left, and a sharp stab of pain went through his chest. Gryffindor, he thought. Just like her.
He began scanning that table and with every face he examined, the constriction lessened a little bit. He began to form the foolish notion that perhaps the child wasn't here at all. Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to ensure that the child would be ready for the school year, but the half-giant was an oaf, and oafs often made mistakes. Perhaps the young one had missed the train, or that Muggle family had refused to accept any part of Hogwarts, or-
No. There. The constriction returned, twice as bad. He took in a sharp breath and he could feel his eyes widen. There. In between one of the Weasley boys and a tiny girl with bushy, brown hair. There. No, no, why.. There. Smiling and laughing in between mouthfuls of food. There. Pointing and staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the swooping ghosts and fluttering banners and the serenely floating candles. There. At Hogwarts. In the Great Hall. Here.
For a long moment, Severus was numb. Through that numbness, he took in a lot of information. She was looking away from Severus for some time, and he saw the dark red hair that tumbled down her back. He saw the way she waved her arms about when she spoke, as if emphasizing every single point of what she said. Then she turned to face the high table, and Severus' breath stopped.
Her eyes! Her eyes..
Lily. God, it was Lily. The eyes were the same, exactly the same. A beautiful, bright, clear green. A smiling green, full of joy and happiness. They turned upwards when she smiled, and widened with awe when she saw something else about Hogwarts that amazed her. They laughed when she laughed. How could she look so much like Lily? What kind of cruel joke of fate was this? Were the heavens laughing at him now, pointing with amusement at his incredible misfortune and misery? The little girl laughed heartily, and Severus realized that not all of her was Lily.
There it was. That accursed demeanor. The broad movements, the loud, uncaring laugh. Her looks may have been all Lily, but her actions were all James. He could see it, a little hint in those emerald eyes. The mischievous glint, the constantly-laughing part. Or was it all James? The girl examined the high table closely, as one of the Weasley twins pointed out who the teachers were. When he pointed to Severus and recited his name, the girl's eyes lingered on him. There was curiosity in those eyes. Could she possibly recognize Severus?
No, that was impossible. She has only been barely a year old when.. when the incident occurred. He had only held her once, after he had finally torn himself away from Lily's lifeless body. He had carried the little girl with the bright green eyes and the short, soft red hair out of the destroyed house, the house touched by death and lost love and lost dreams. She could not recognize him, yet there she was, staring at him with the same curiosity in her eyes that Lily had the first time she had seen Severus under the willow tree.
Then the little girl's eyes moved on and she followed the Weasley boy's words once more, nodding in understanding as she learned the names of the professors. Severus let out all of his breath at once, and with it, all of his remaining sanity. His fists clenched and unclenched frantically now, under the table. He couldn't take it, he needed to get out. His eyes wandered around the entire room, trying to find something else to focus on but no matter what, they always returned to that little girl, the tiny Lily.
He saw himself sitting next to Lily at their own first meal, right before the sorting that had separated them more than they would ever know. Right before she hopped off to the Gryffindor table and he slunk off to the Slytherin table, watching her go with regretful eyes. How would he ever be able to take this? How would he be able to teach this child, with Lily's eyes, and James' attitude? He couldn't, he couldn't..
But he would have to. He needed to protect the girl, he needed to protect the only piece of Lily that he had left. He would never be tender towards this girl, no matter how much she was like her mother. He could never nurture her, he could never say a kind word towards her. That would put her in danger, and he would never, ever, put this child in harm's way.
He couldn't breathe now, let alone eat. He looked down with disgust at the food that had piled itself on his plate. He couldn't eat, he felt too sick.
Dumbledore placed a hand on Severus' shoulder, and he jumped with shock. He hadn't even heard the old man leave his seat. He leaned down and whispered, "Eerie, isn't it? How striking the resemblance is.." He straightened back up before an answer could be uttered and said loudly, enough for the other professors to easily hear, "Oh, Severus, could you go down to the kitchens and make certain that everything is going smoothly? I do like the first feast to be the best. A good impression on the young ones, you understand?"
He almost stood up too fast. His chair tilted back slightly and he cleared his throat, managing a slightly shaky, "Yes, of course."
Severus swept back down the line of seats at the high table, each step making his legs feel as if they were made of jelly. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest and his head was swimming. When he reached the door, he took one last look behind him, at the little girl whose eyes would haunt him for the next seven years. She was smiling. It looked like she was becoming fast friends with the Weasleys.
He forced himself to turn away and walk out of the doorway, but he only made a few steps before his legs stopped working and his eyesight began to blur and he had to lean himself up against a niche in the wall, lest he fall down to the stone floor. He began to weep and he wasn't even sure what he was weeping for. Was he weeping for Lily? For losing Lily, or knowing her in the first place? For loving her, for seeing her drift away, for seeing her taken by the damned Potter boy? Or was he weeping because her ghost was here, sitting in the Great Hall, laughing and asking questions and squealing with excitement? He didn't know.
Severus Snape was weeping. He didn't know what he was weeping for, but perhaps it was for all of those things.