A/N: More Snape-centric fic. It involves Snape and Ginny, but it's really Snape/Lily at its heart.
Words: 306
Characters: Snape, Ginny
Time: Anytime
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Sometimes, his heart will jerk painfully in his chest when he sees her at a distance in a corridor. Then her face will turn, and no, it's not Lily; it's the Weasley girl, and then the pain will slowly recede, leaving a soreness in his chest that never truly disappears.
But from behind… only from behind… that long, straight, vibrant red hair can be Lily's. For that split second before reality chases down and does away with instinct, he can imagine, beautifully, excruciatingly, that it is Lily walking ahead of him, just out of his reach.
And then she will start talking to Potter. It is the same all over again. The girl with the dancing red hair talking to the popular boy with messy dark hair and glasses. Between blinks, he sees James and Lily, no, Potter and Weasley, James and Lily, Potter and Weasley…
During those times, he turns abruptly in the corridor, eliciting quickly stifled shrieks from the terrified first-years behind him. He does not stop until he reaches his office, cool and dark and lonely. His hands grip the edge of his desk so tightly that his long, splayed fingers are even more white and spiderlike than usual.
He can see it all in his mind's eye, and for several long minutes, they all blend into a mess of eras and faces until he doesn't know which is now, which is real, and were it not for his grip on his desk, he would stagger. Deep breaths rattle from within him, scratching his throat like dry tears.
It is some time before he reclaims himself and can emerge again. Eventually, he always does. He is as proud, as haughty, as cool as ever. He avoids the Weasley girl; he torments the Potter boy, and his aching chest becomes a dull, constant routine.