Author's Note: This was written for Round 1 of the Test Your Limits Competition II. I divided up the memories following the original separations in the Deathly Hallows and those divisions are shown by line breaks..
PROMPT: Lethe
Lethe is the river of Forgetfulness where souls go to be washed clean of memories in preparation for reincarnation.
The main theme of your fic will be memory.
BONUS PROMPTS:
Word: ephemeral
Item: cauldron
Creature: thestral
Severus had always thought it a rather stupid, romantic notion held by those the likes of James Potter or Albus Dumbledore that your life flashed before you when you died. And yet, here he was, dying on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack of all places, remembering her.
Of course it was her. She had been the only good thing about his life, even when she wasn't there. She was his reason for being, and the only reason he did anything, really. The time they had spent together seemed ephemeral compared to the time he had spent without her. It was a sad twist of fate that the one thing he wanted most in the world belonged to his tormentor. Even in death they were together. "In loving memory of James Potter and Lily Potter". She had died bearing his name just as she had died for bearing his child, and now she would be forever his.
As her frantic green eyes stared out at him from the face of his enemy, he pulled her child closer and gasped, "Take it." Harry seemed not to understand, but Hermione passed him a vial. Smart girl. She reminded him so much of Lily. Lily. Lily. He was pulled into his first memory of her as he expelled it from himself.
She looked rather like an angel, his younger self had decided. She dressed like the girls that whispered about him on the playground and refused to go near him, but when she swung high in the air, her red hair spread behind her like wings and glinted gold in the sunlight. She jumped off at the top and Severus held his breath as she was suspended in the air just a split second too long.
There was another girl with her. The girl dressed like his angel, but looked like him, pale and skinny. She was yelling at her and her voice was piercing and whiney, but all Severus heard was the dull roar of blood pounding in his ears. His redhaired angel pulled a flower off the ground and cradled it in her hands and he watched, mesmerized, as it opened and closed its petals as if it were talking to her. That's how he had known she was magic.
As he explained magic to her, he watched her green eyes grow wide enough for him to see up close how they shined. She was different from her sister, but she was like him. They had been so innocent then. As the memory left him, he clung to the image of her for just a second, before releasing it in a whisper of silver fog.
She came to him again, as he had known she would. She was suspicious, but she had so many questions. She always had so many questions. It was a strange feeling to be needed and important. No one had ever made him feel that way, except for her. Her questions were easy enough to answer until she asked, "Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?" Yes, he thought automatically. He was silent for a moment as he took in her bright red hair, pale face, and worried green eyes.
"No," he said, "It doesn't make any difference." He knew it did though. He knew there were some out there who would hate her and treat her horribly because of it. He knew he should have told her in that moment, but it was simply easier to lie.
Everything was going fine until she turned up. Petunia Evans had always been one of the whispering girls who kept close to the circles of floral skirts and treated him with disdain because he didn't fit in. It gave him a feeling of vindication to make her the outsider for once. She insulted his clothing and his temper flared. He saw red for a split second before a branch fell, hitting Petunia on the shoulder. He watched with strange fascination as she stumbled backwards, tears in her eyes, and ran away.
Furious green eyes snapped to him. Lily accused him of making the branch fall. He knew it had been his fault, but he hadn't meant for it to happen, so he denied it. He feared that his admission would break the tentative friendship they had formed. It hadn't mattered. Lily didn't believe him anyway and she had cast him one last burning green look before she ran off to look for her sister and left Severus alone once again.
Severus floated between consciousness and unconsciousness as he sorted through his memories. It was tempting, so tempting, to allow himself to just relive every moment with her, but he knew he was running out of time. He needed to pick the right memories to show them, no matter how much he hated them.
He watched silently as Petunia said things to Lily. Horrible things. He was sad to realize now that he had grown up to be more like Petunia than Lily. The world needed more Lilys.
He found her later on the train. She was sitting in a compartment with a group of boys who were thoroughly ignoring her. They were, he realized, the kind of boys he avoided instinctively. And yet, Lily was in there, so he gathered the little courage he had and pushed the door open, seating himself across from her. He tried his best to comfort her, cursing himself as the words "she's only a muggle" almost slipped out. He thanked Merlin that she had been too distracted with her tears to notice.
"You'd better be in Slytherin," he told her. It may have sounded like a warning, but it was really more of a plea.
"Slytherin?"
One of the boys in the compartment, James Potter, interjected into their conversation.
"Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" The words were said with easy disregard and nonchalance and Severus immediately felt dislike for this boy well up from deep in him.
He felt a pang as he looked the boy over. The boy's black hair was the same color as his own and they appeared to have the same build, yet they couldn't have been more different. Whilst Severus had pale skin and threadbare black robes that were barely hanging together, the boy was tanned, undoubtedly from playing outside with friends, and his robes were obviously brand new and of the highest quality. Even his hair was better. It was shiny, clean, and rather messy, but in a carefully constructed sort of way. He held himself with the kind of confidence that told volumes about his upbringing and that made Severus resent him even more.
The verbal sparring that followed, was the first of many, many fights, though he had not known it then. His heart leaped when Lily led him away to find him another compartment. It was her way of saying she forgave him. The feeling of relief allowed him to tune out the mocking voices behind them.
Severus carefully picked his way through his memories. Even in his last moments, he felt red hot rage sear through him when he remembered James Potter. He would rather spend his last moments thinking of Lily, just Lily. But he knew what he had to do, and for this plan to succeed he had to relive the moments he hated most and that had been the beginning of the end. He lingered briefly over a memory of one of their returns to Hogwarts. It was the year after he had been inducted as a Death Eater. The year he realized with horror that he could see thestrals, and she could not. He shoved the memory aside. There were more important ones for the boy to see.
"Mudblood."
It was almost beautiful in its simplicity, and yet it could not have had an uglier meaning. The word stood between them like a brick wall holding them to their own sides. He had always known it would, from the moment he took his place in Slytherin, and she took hers in Gryffindor. It was the one thing he desperately wished he could change about her. It was a travesty that someone so perfect should be barred from him because of her parents. Looking back, he knew he had let it stand between them, but he had been too young then to see it. He should have fought for her then but at the time all he could see were their differences. He was Severus Snape the greasy git who was only good at using cauldrons and making potions. She was Lily Evans, the Gryffindor Golden Girl.
He begged and pleaded with her for forgiveness. It seemed unreal to him when she refused to grant him mercy and closed the portrait door in his face. He had the horrifying realization that there would be no more words between them. No more secret moments in empty classrooms. No more lazing on soft, sweet grass that was almost the color of Lily's eyes. He was torn. Lily's eyes were a beautiful green that he adored, and yet, just a few shades darker, and it was the color of the house he both adored and loathed because it represented everything he was but denied her and everything she stood for.
He was begging for help from Albus Dumbledore to save her. He had sold his soul to Voldemort, and now he offered everything else to Dumbledore.
This memory was the most difficult. He had offered the prophecy to the Dark Lord in hopes of earning his favor. That same eagerness had led to Lily's death. The knowledge haunted him them, as it would continued to haunt him every day for the rest of his life.
"You remember the shape and color of Lily Evan's eyes, I am sure?" Dumbledore's voice had a grandfatherly tone but the words were sharp and mocking. They cut into his heart, something he had thought was well-protected.
As if he could forget them. Wide green eyes. Greener than anything he had ever seen. They sparkled with laughter and sparked with passion. He saw those eyes every time he closed his own. He was the reason they would shine no more. He didn't deserve to see them.
"DON'T," he shouted, the words torn from his soul. He wasn't sure if he was yelling at himself, or at Dumbledore. "Gone... dead," he whispered brokenly.
Dumbledore spoke to him then of a boy. Lily's baby boy. The baby she had died defending. He agreed to protect him when the time came, for what else could he do? There was no other way to make up for what he had done, and he would be damned if he let the last trace of Lily Evans go from this world without a fight.
And he had fought, seventeen long years all culminating in this one last moment. He forced himself through some of his memories with Dumbledore as they had planned. He knew Harry would need them in order to do what must be done but they did not pull him in like his memories of Lily had. He watched as Harry collected the last of the memories and eased his grip on Harry's robes. He drew in another painful breath and knew he was not long for this world.
"Look at me," he managed to gasp out. Lily's green eyes locked with his one last time. He allowed himself to finally be at peace as he stared into that endless green until he drowned in it.
The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.
End note: A handful of the lines are taken directly from the book, meaning the dialogue as well as the last line. Leave a review if you liked it!