Her Green Eyes
A/N: Something short and what I hope to be thought provoking. Written because I have always wondered what Petunia was about to say when Harry was leaving the Dursleys for good and because I had always wondered why Dumbledore trusted Snape…
JKR always said that Harry having his mother's eyes was important… and now we finally now why.
Mrs. Petunia Dursley.
She should have said something; she knew that now. She would still think about it when she scoured the pans or scrubbed the floor until it gleamed. Normally cleaning would take her mind off stressful things, relax her, but it was having the opposite effect now.
It had been the last time she had seen him, nearly six years ago today. They had still lived on Privet Drive then. His "kind" had come for him, to take him away from the imminent danger he was most surely facing from the one who had murdered his parents in cold blood.
He had been standing there in front of her, tall yet still as skinny as ever, his unruly black hair that she hated so much standing in every direction. But it wasn't his appearance that struck Petunia at that moment, nor was it her son's unwillingness to leave his cousin's side. Instead, it was the fear that seemed to take over his entire being.
Harry hadn't been one to show his emotions; he had long ago learned that they got him nowhere with the Dursleys. However, it was quite clear to see right through him at that moment, something that hadn't occurred since he was a young boy. And as she stared into the fear-filled eyes, eyes he had inherited from her younger sister, his mother, she felt as though she was transported back in time.
There was Lily, a mere six years old, terrified to jump off the swing. There she was again, laughing with Petunia as they danced around the house in the rain. The memories flooded through her; Lily saying goodbye as a tiny eleven year old to a rather bitter older sister; Lily telling Petunia and their parents that she had met a boy; Lily leaving with that boy, leaving the world of her sister far, far behind her.
That was the last time she had seen her sister. She had been walking away from their house, hand in hand with that Potter boy. She had given Petunia one look back, and Petunia had looked away, closing the door with a loud snap.
They were her eyes, Lily's eyes, staring at her, their fear, their vulnerability crying out to her. Petunia didn't know what to do. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
What could she even say?
I'm sorry?
Apologies, though, were worthless. They made nothing better, and at seeing Harry's expression harden seconds after she had closed her mouth, she knew that she had long ago lost her chance to make amends. Was she even sorry? Those eyes had tortured her every time she saw them, always reminding her of a sister who was better, who Petunia had never treated properly, and who was now gone.
There was nothing she could say that would make those eyes forgive her. And she wasn't even sure that she wanted them to.
So she left him, left Lily's eyes behind her, just like Lily had so long ago left her. She would wonder for days if he had actually escaped. She would wonder even longer if he was dead. She would regret her silence. And she would very soon learn that the hurt she had felt in seeing those eyes everyday was nothing compared to the hurt she felt when she thought about never seeing them again.
Professor Severus Snape
Harry was living proof that Snape had failed; living proof that Snape had lost the one thing that he hadn't wanted to lose. When he thought about Lily Evans, which was quite often, he liked to think of her in the pre-Potter days. In fact, Snape had pretended for quite some time that there was no Potter, that Lily had never married at all.
That changed when the boy entered Hogwarts, and thereby thrust under Snape's nose. He could no longer deny what was placed in front of him every day.
The thought of her being with him sickened Snape. That he kissed her cheek, touched her, held her. That together they had produced a child. That he had loved her. And even worse in Snape's mind, that she had loved him back.
He was a replica of his father except for his eyes. It wouldn't have been so bad if he had been identical to James in every way. As a matter of fact, that was what he had hoped vehemently for. But Harry was not his father's son; he was his mother's.
He had her mannerisms, though Merlin only knew how, seeing as she didn't even raise the boy. He would sniffle constantly, just like Lily had, and even made his 'y's like Lily had.
He had her modesty, and her charming way of crediting others for her victories.
He had her smile, a smile that was warm and kind, and true and good.
He had her eyes.
Those piercing emerald orbs were the worst of it all. They were a constant reminder of what he had lost, of all of the mistakes he had made, and of all that he couldn't undo. They were what tortured him. Yet in his dying moments, Snape had found her eyes to be there, not to torture, but to comfort. They were the last thing he saw as he parted from the earthly world, and he felt relieved that, after everything, those eyes would finally understand.