"How could that foul boy ever think I would be the one in pursuit of that wretched stone?"
Snape was with Dumbledore in his office, pacing back and forth. His face was painted with the common stern, brooding expression he wore, but his mood was fouler than usual. The mirror that had once been in the chamber below the trapdoor where the stone was hidden was now standing in the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his piercing blue eyes as calm as his gentle smile. The stone lay on the desk in front of him.
"Ah, Severus, surely you understand. Why, it is in the nature of young people to be curious, and to accept whatever notion they are inclined to believe, even if it is untrue." Dumbledore looked up at Snape with a rather mischievous look of knowing in his face. "I believe you too once shared the same nature as young Harry, and I believe it put you into as much danger as it did for him."
Snape stopped pacing and glared at Dumbledore. "Well, it seems that he was rather quick to single me out, just like his arrogant father-"
"Who saved your life, Severus," Dumbledore interjected.
"I have paid my debt to Potter. I have protected his son!" Snape snapped.
"Yes, that is true," Dumbledore agreed, "but we must not forget the true reason why you protect him."
Snape's expression distorted into one of pure grief before reverting to his usual façade of apathy. "Of course," he replied through gritted teeth.
Just then there came a knocking at the headmaster's door.
"Professor McGonagall, you may enter," Dumbledore called out.
McGonagall opened the large door and stormed into Dumbledore's office. "It is Flamel, headmaster, I believe he is here to see you."
"Ah, my dear friend Nicholas," Dumbledore said nostalgically. "I shall go with you, Professor, to bring Nicholas in. In the meantime, Severus, you may stay here."
Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked towards the door, taking Professor McGonagall's side. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to look at Snape, who stood frozen in the center of his office. "I believe, Severus, another quick look will do," said Dumbledore, who remained smiling as he shut the door behind him, leaving Snape alone in his office.
For a moment, Snape hadn't the slightest clue what Dumbledore had been talking about. He began to pace the office once more, his mind still dwelling on the young Potter boy. His heart filled with loathing and contempt at the reminder of whose son Potter was. Snape's black eyes reduced to slits as he began to peer around the room to distract himself from his inner rage. Another look at what? What had that old man been talking about?
Just then, his eyes fell on the Mirror of Erised that had been standing all this time in the very back of Dumbledore's magnificent office. Suddenly, all the anger that had filled Snape at that moment vanished like smoke. He knew what the old man meant, and the old man knew his greatest desire.
Snape swallowed and walked warily towards the mirror, knowing exactly what he would see there – who he would see there. He wasn't sure if he was ready, or if seeing her would make him feel any better. He clenched his jaw; nothing seemed to stop him from moving closer, even if he was slightly frightened.
As he got closer, the striking form of Lily Potter appeared in the glass, right behind the reflection of himself. She was wearing a white dress and her long, red hair was tied up. She smiled at him for the first time since… Snape couldn't bear to think of it.
Snape's jaw tightened once more. He reached out to touch her face, but his fingers only stroked the cold mirror. He rested his hand on the mirror and felt his knees collapse. He tried to resist, but he crumpled to the ground like an unstable house of cards, and his eyes were heavy with tears. Still, he did not remove them from the vibrant image of the beautiful Lily Potter, smiling at him as if she were there in front of him.
Snape felt vulnerable; what would anyone think if someone other than Dumbledore walked in and found him crumpled on the ground in front of the mirror with tears streaming down his cheek? Professor Snape – the teacher without feelings?
But that was Professor Snape. As of now, he was Severus. Poor, broken-hearted Severus.
Of course, nobody knew that Snape had ever given his heart away except the old man. And nobody should ever know, especially that Potter boy.
For a few minutes, Severus stayed there in front of the mirror in the dimly lit room, staring into the glowing green eyes of Lily Potter, or Lily Evans – the girl he was friends with as a child. The one he always loved, and the only one he loved.
Snape wondered what he might look like to anyone that would burst into Dumbledore's office. It would erase any doubt that he would have been the one after the stone; he would never see such a worthless object this mirror. Snape became paranoid; he was sure someone would come soon...But Snape was, and had always been, alone. Nobody came to see him at his most vulnerable state, nobody could ever help him. He had known his tragedy for quite a while now. Alone forever.
Out of pure despair, Snape felt like smashing the mirror into pieces so that he couldn't see Lily anymore and not feel the knife in his chest twisting around, but he felt as if that would add another shard of glass to his already broken-down metronome. Until now, it had been so easy to keep it silent.
Just then, the image if Lily reached out to his reflection with her hand and placed it on his shoulder. A pained bewilderment came over Snape. He shrunk away from the mirror, his hand falling away and to break the fall that would have resulted in him lying flat on the ground. Snape closed his eyes and tried to recover, fixing his rugged breathing so that it was back to normal.
Finally, Snape regained his control and stood up slowly, wiping the dirt off his dark cloak that added to his bat-like features. He wiped away his tears, along with any sign on his face that could tell anyone that he had been crying. He took one last glance at Lily Potter in the mirror and then turned his back on it, his stoic façade returning upon the disappearance of her image.
He walked out of the headmaster's office with his sorrow so masterfully disguised that nobody could ever tell. Not a soul.