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-Dreama
Severus had never been a religious man. Yet there were a few rare times when he had knelt on his knees and prayed, begging God for a meager blessing.
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The first time he had ever been in a church he was six and was forced into a starched shirt and made to sit very quietly next to his mother. He remembered the church, despite it being in Manchester, surrounded by polluting smokestacks from the mills, it was pretty. There was stained glass and an organ (slightly out of tune), wooden pews and threadbare carpet.
His mother, in his early childhood, had gone to church in frequently, but she always told him she believed in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and in the salvation story in the Bible. They didn't own one but he had heard it once at church, and vaguely remembered. Something about the Jesus fellow coming back to life, which he had to say, did sound pretty remarkable.
But the first time he actually, really prayed by himself had been when he was eleven. He was nervous, incredibly nervous about going off to Hogwarts, because he knew this could be the beginning of a new life for him. New friends could come along, and if he worked really hard, he could go to university and do something great with his life.
So he had lay in his bed the night before he was scheduled to leave and fervently prayed to a God he was not sure existed and asked him for his years at Hogwarts to go well. Perhaps it had been his lack of enthusiasm in His existence, his lack of church attendance which had thwarted his prayer.
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The second time he had prayed was during his fifth year, when everything happened with Lily. It was the year his feelings for her were strongest, and also the year their friendship went down the tube.
Of course the bullying had been bad, but he had never thought to pray about it, not until he called Lily that awful word. When he went back to the Common Room after waiting for her all night, he had shut the curtains around his bed, knelt on the mattress, and beseeched God to let him make things up with the love of his life.
They never spoke, except a few cordial words, again.
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When he had heard about the Dark Lord's plot to murder the Potters, he had not had the best reaction. He had kept his composure in the meeting, then Apparated to Spinners End. Once he got there he had thrown himself on his knees and emptied his stomach.
Once he had cleared his mind, he had tried to think of the best way to save Lily. Betraying the Dark Lord was an option, but there seemed to be nowhere in the world that he could truly hide from the man. Who could offer him security, safety, both for him and his love?
Dumbledore had been the only person to come to mind, Dumbledore and Hogwarts. So he had thrown himself at the old man's feet and begged for mercy, then promptly explained the situation.
The only thing he had left to do after that was beg God for Lily's safety and eventual happiness with him.
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After the continued failure of his crying out to God and repeatedly being ignored, he had sworn he would never pray again, never step into a church again. Yet here he was, all these years later, trying one last time to request to a God he now knew existed but wasn't sure was listening.
The existence of a higher being only made sense to him, as Earth needed a higher being, a creator, someone up in the heavens to check things out. He also preferred to believe in Heaven and Lily being there, and if he believed in Heaven he might as well believe in God too.
So here, in Saint Columba's Church (whoever that was) in Highland, he was on his knees. The church was certainly pretty, prettier than the one in Manchester he's only been in three times. But this was the first time he had bowed his head, whilst actually in a place of worship, and petition the Almighty God to answer his prayer.
"God, I'm not really sure how to do this...and, um, I don't know if you listen to wizards or anything. You've never answered my prayers in the past, or at least not the way I've liked. But soon, there is going to be a war, which I assume you know, and it involves a boy named Harry Potter. I loved," his voice cracked then, and he clenched his hands together, cleared his throat, and continued.
"I loved his mother very much, and I promised myself that I would make sure he was alright. Personally I don't have much affection for him, but he's part of her." A tear leaked down his face, and he wiped it away hastily.
"He's part of her, and he must live, for her. You may not care about me, but he's a boy who has been caught up in this by no fault of his own. So please, if you are listening, if you do care," he cleared his throat a little. "Please, let him live."
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Though Severus himself would not live to see the end of the war, he knew Harry Potter survived. And for once, his prayer was answered.