A Rare Thing
A single dark figure rested in high backed armchair ensconced in the far corner of the simply decorated room. Brooding eyes stared into the flickering firelight. The figure moved, causing dancing shadows to race across the opposite wall riddled with leather bound books, some old and well worn, others new and perfectly preserved. The calm ticking of a single clock and the crackling of fire was all that broke the heavy silence.
"Sev."
The thin, dark figure flinched and shifted restlessly, long fingers digging harshly into the heavy chair's armrests.Dark eyes turning to gaze steadily up at the clock, willing, no begging for the hand to turn to the twelfth hour.
"Severus."
The man leaned forward, potion stained fingers twitching to move and pick up the heavy tome lying haphazardly on the heavy wooden floor. He pulled himself and the book back to rest comfortably in his lap.
"Snivellus!"
The book thudded to the floor, and the shaking figure lifted one thin trembling hand to his face, rubbing his brow. The fire roared and the scratching of something on the window outside rent the air. Severus gazed dully at the plain, bedraggled barn owl clawing at the glass. Dragging himself out of the comfortable chair he made his way slowly to the window and grasped the hatch, flipping it open. There was a thud and a squeak as the speckled owl flopped onto the floor, smoking as though it had been on fire only moments ago. He sighed, bent down and tugged the pale envelope tucked close to the owl's body, gently placing it onto the mantel. Murmuring a levitating charm, he moved the owl to an old iron bird cage in the corner of the room.
"Sneedle."
There was a pop and a short, wrinkly being appeared in the room. He gestured toward the owl and the creature nodded.
"Does the master be needing some refreshments for the owl sir?" The elf asked. He nodded and flicked his wand at the cage, slamming the little door shut.
"Remove it from my presence as well." He instructed, before falling back into the arm chair. The elf shook its head up and down again vigorously, before disappearing with the cage in a pop. Severus sighed, and muttered "accio letter." Grasping it, he deftly slid open the flap, slipping out the thin parchment within. He unfolded it and stared, blinked, and shook his head before rereading.
Severus,
Mr. Potter is coming to Hogwarts next term. Keep a close eye on him will you?
Albus
The dark haired man glared at the letter before tossing it into the flames. He pushed himself off the armchair before moving towards the elegant dark wood desk and pulling out a piece of parchment. Sparing a glance briefly for the heady mist outside, he scribed a quick response before neatly folding the note and called for the elf. With a pop Sneedle appeared, accepting the letter he peered up at the tall man with questioning eyes.
"Send this on the owl to Dumbledore."
"Yes sir." And the elf disappeared again. Severus ran a slender hand through his long hair tiredly. Stalking back over to his chair he thudded into it and sighed.
"Accio firewhiskey. Accio goblet." The objects flew and slammed into his open hands before he swiftly poured the liquid into the deep goblet. Setting the bottle on the ground he gulped down the alcohol that burned its way down his throat. He finished, placing the goblet gently on the small table next to the chair.
"Mudblood!"
Startled, Severus's eye twitched from its position to gaze deeply into the flames, his dark eyebrow's furrowed.
"What is it Severusss? What did you hear?"
The raven haired man flinched visibly and brought one hand up to clutch at his left fore-arm. Thin fingers scrabbled with the dark fabric of his sleeve and tore it, revealing the mark that marred the sallow skin of his limb. Looking down on it he suppressed a shudder at the implications of it. The mark had faded since the day ten years ago that had changed his loyalties. Exactly ten years since She had died.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."
He choked out a strangled sob. Oh how could he have been so foolish? He himself had been so much like a child, one of the very characteristics he despised in James Potter. He, priding his intelligence and loyalty to a cause he himself had thought just, hadn't been able to foresee that damage his foolish actions would create. Unable to realize that even Dumbledore couldn't have stopped him from finding them and killing Her.
"Not Harry, please no don't kill him, take me, kill me instead —"
Burying his head in his hands he shuddered. How could he have forgotten Her Gryffindor tendencies? He should've known She would sacrifice Her life for the boy's.
"Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..."
Rubbing at his eyes as they continued to itch uncomfortably, he reached for his wand, hand hovering over its usual spot; the sheathe hanging from the little table next to his chair. He grasped for it for but a moment before he remembered it was gone. The fire dimmed considerably, only a few flickering flames present on the charred log. Gone. His craving of dark magic would never again be sated. Not until he comes back at least. Not until he has to masquerade as one of his again.
"You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."
He shuddered; memories kept resurfacing, clawing their way to the front of his mind. Dark, buried memories of the time in his services, memories that he had tried to forget existed. In an pointless effort to distract himself he pulled a copy of the recent Daily Prophet from underneath his chair. Frowning and remembering to reprimand the elf for putting it in such an odd place he spread it open.
The normally bold writing on the paper was blurred, pictures that had been stilled and curiously out of focus. He made a note to owl the Daily Prophet and complain about the dunderheads that worked the motion spells on the paper.
"Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there… Almost."
Confused, he rubbed his brow. He should be preparing for the new term, preparing to face Her child. He should be planning the boy's safety. Cautiously checking the new teachers' integrity at Hogwarts. Making certain he would not fail Her, cause Her to be yet again disappointed with him.
"You disgust me. You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"
He shuddered again; he did not care for Potter or his child, but Her… Worry for Her had been strong enough for him to concede that they too must be hidden along with Her if She was to survive. And to hear, even after the Dark Lord had been vanquished by the Potter brat… he somehow had enough power to return again, or so Dumbledore claimed.
"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"
No. It was not possible. He lifted himself up out of his chair and headed towards the door out of his study. Stumbling up the stairs, he leaned heavily upon the balustrade. Nevermind showing weakness anymore. There is no one around to witness it, or whisper about it. The wall beside him swirled dangerously. He scowled at it, surely he did not consume that much firewhiskey?
"You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."
He lifted his foot onto the next stair only to have the stairway to disolving into fog. Yelling out hoarsely he grabbed onto the railing, clinging desperately to it, legs dangling dangerously. He groaned, and used his arms to pull his body exhaustedly onto the railing, resting there. He needed to return to the study. Grab his wand…
"Nagini… Sssiahhnnssasshii."
He panted, sliding down the railing carefully. He needed to get to his wand...His study was all that kept him safe recently, how could he have forgotten, or even… missed it? The choking clouds had permeated the entire house; the heat of his study was the only thing that kept it at bay. He pulled himself up and staggered back towards the door, tugging it open and stumbling inside. Slamming the door, his body collapsed onto the damp floor, forcing him to crawl towards the fire.
"Take … It … Take … It …"
The once burning furnace flickered pitifully. Once. Twice. He weakly pushed some of his magic towards it. It burst into existence, roaring briefly before settling back into its struggling flame. He groaned, fingers scrabbling on the dusty rug before the fire.
"Sneedle!" he gasped, his lungs rasping. The elf popped in.
"Master?" It asked. He gazed into its face with horror. The swirling, creeping, gray being had possessed this as well.
"More wood for the fire!" he gritted out, flinging a trembling hand at it. The elf nodded its featureless head briefly before popping and returning with wood. He gestured quickly towards the fire and the elf carefully placed the logs on it. He sighed, and nodded to the elf that popped out moments later.
"Severus?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me about the Dementors again?"
He flinched, turning his eyes away from fire towards the clock. Not long before the day ended it seemed. The fire spat and hissed, causing his eyes to wander back to it. He choked. The logs the house elf had supplied were gray and cloying. They smothered the fire which twisted and shrieked in an attempt to escape. He sobbed. Not long until midnight... Not long at all. His eyes turned back towards the clock, counting down the minutes, seconds.
He scrabbled for his goblet and the bottle of firewhiskey. Uncorking it he poured it steadily into the cup 'till it was filled. He placed it back on the rug, dragged himself into an upright position and pulled the cup up to his lips. The room darkened, the normal warmth of it disappeared, replaced with a freezing, biting cold. He continued to watch the clock. Thirty seconds.
His finger's numbed, and the liquid inside the goblet crackled with cold. He put it to his lips before throwing it away swiftly. Cold. Too cold. Serverus touched a finger to his lips, feeling the burn of cold, before closing his eyes. Ten seconds.
"Look … At … Me …."
Green, beautiful familiar green. A green that filled him with warmth, love and hope. A green that forgave everything he had done, committed. Enveloping him in it's purity he did not open his eyes. Did not look around to see the fog, which had once been contained outside crack and break the glass, sliding its way into the room, twisting around his limbs, encasing his body in blankness.
He did not feel the fight leave his body. He did not feel the last recesses of his life slip away. He was blind to his little world. Blind to the desperate cruelty of life. Blind to his own self-hatred. He did not see the final vestiges of his false reality created after his own violent end, collapse.
He felt the warmth of green and love. He felt comfort and acceptance and pride. He finally could see Her again. See the laughter, light and comfort that he had been missing for over two decades. Two decades of bitter never ending acceptance.
"Severus."
He opened his eyes, blinking owlishly.
"Severus, after all this time.. are you…? "
He smiled, a rare thing, and reached out for her hand, enveloping it in his.
"Always."
"Always."
….
Authors Note: Thanks for reading guys! I've always wanted to do a Severus/Lily. Even though I don't ship it, it's just adorable! If you hadn't already realised, the people speaking in italics are memories of his. And if you're confused a bit… Well… Someone should get it right? :D