Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: In secret, only in secret, can she still think of him. SnapeLily, oneshot
Um, yeah. Harry Potter has eaten my brain - especially with stories of these two. I love them so, so much, and I've been overwhelmed with ideas. This one is just a little fic centering around Lily's thoughts. Because I'd like to think that she didn't just never think of him again after their friendship ended. I hope that everyone enjoys this little fic of mine. I'd love to hear if you like it!
Towards the Sky
She can't do this forever.
As much as she'd like to, she just can't.
Her husband is starting to suspect something's going on with her. And there is, though nothing as concrete as outright adultery. Because, surely, just thinking of someone else isn't being unfaithful. Right?
Lily Potter thinks herself a terrible person.
Her husband doesn't deserve this kind of treatment. Kind, caring James who put a pin in his inflated head just for her. Wonderful, loving James who cares for her more than anything in this world. Handsome, perfect, doting James. How can she possibly think of anyone else when she has him?
And yet, she does.
She feels as if she's going to explode. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe then there would be enough pieces to go around.
Quit it, you silly girl, she tells herself. Where's the logic in thinking like that?
Because that's what she is. Just a silly girl with silly dreams where different choices were made, where different words were spoken, where she had forgiven him.
She clenches her pale fists so tightly that the tendons pop up beneath the skin.
She hears her husband chime, concerned, in her thoughts - "Skin and bones, hon! Are you eating alright?" - and she hates herself even more.
Pale and lanky, she hates to think of how much her appearance now resembles his.
It's appropriate, though. He is the one she so often thinks about - why shouldn't it manifest on her person? She half expects a Dark Mark to appear on her arm any day now.
The whole thing is wicked, really. Awful, through and through. Thinking fondly of a Death Eater might be one thing, but pining after one? That must be a whole new definition of wrong.
Not only because he's a Death Eater, but because of James.
Especially because of James.
She lets out what would be her thousandth sigh of the night and runs her fingers along her forearm absentmindedly. She feels goosebumps reveal themselves as the quaint nighttime breeze floats around her.
Lily sits alone on her front steps, gazing out into nothing in particular. James had long since gone to bed; since he sleeps like a rock, it wasn't all that hard to sneak out.
It seems all she can do lately is sigh. Strange things remind her of him. Sometimes she is so taken aback by little things - a blackbird, a small child in mismatched clothes, every time she hears someone refer to You-Know-Who - that remind her of him so suddenly that it's almost like a physical assault to the traitor that is her heart.
"Sev..."
There, she's said it. Breathed a name that she tries to keep away from her at all times. (James has an uncanny ability to realize she's thinking about her childhood friend even when she tries to hide it - he knows her just that well.)
But his name is there, lingering in the air like an unspoken promise.
She closes her eyes and listens to the crickets chirp. Her mind conjures up an image - a small boy with hodge-podge clothing and a plethora of information that transforms into a skinny teen who just happens to be on the wrong side of things.
She thinks of his voice, of his eager, dark eyes, and of those rare smiles that she likes to think were reserved especially for her. She thinks of these things and her heart aches.
Lily tries to push the feeling away, but to no avail. She opens her eyes to find that they are wet, shining with tears, and tries to ignore that as well. Again, it doesn't work.
She thinks of him once more, trying to get as much of this out of her system as she can, but every time she thinks she's got this weakness beat, it rears its head. Memory after memory, time after time. It all mocks her.
She bends forward and scoops a tiny cricket in her hands, feeling its life buzzing against her palms.
All the while, her mind is a chorus of thoughts, thinking of her dear friend and all that could have been.
End.