The rain pounded to earth in heavy sheets, making vision past the end of his nose impossible. Despite the relentless precipitation, Severus Snape waited for her as he'd become accustomed to doing for so many years. He sat on the front stoop of the old dilapidated house on Spinner's End, squinting past the thin, dying tree in the front garden, desperately searching for any sign of her.
Though she regularly failed to show for their weekly rendezvous, for some reason he abhorred the thought of not seeing her face for another week. So he waited, staring off into the monotonous gray tones until finally he saw her brilliant red umbrella approaching from down the street. He stood, backing up into his doorway to shake the droplets of water from the long curtain of black hair that fell to his shoulders. He could make out her features now, the soft red hair, her shining lips, those shimmering green eyes. Still gorgeous, despite the tolls of war and parenthood, of steady marital games and a stressful daily routine.
She stepped up to him, closing her umbrella without bothering to shake the July downpour from its fibers. He nodded at her and led her into the safety of his home, the one he cultivated and meticulously maintained alone. When the door clicked shut behind her, she removed her long overcoat and rain boots. Her bare toes were painted fuschia, and she padded over to the sofa, still without uttering a greeting to him. He followed suit, tying the free strands of hair back with a string. Her bare legs were covered in droplets of water, and the hem of her forest green skirt soaked, but he did not tarry. With a few expertly executed movements, she was underneath him, and he was picking at the pearl buttons on her silk blouse. Her long fingers interlaced around his neck, pulling his face down toward her own, but he would not give in. Slowly, painstakingly, he undressed her until she was left in her lacy underthings. A coy smile played upon his lips and finally he gave in to her, allowing their lips to brush only for an instant.
She grabbed the collar of his shirt roughly, imploring that he remove the cotton barrier so that they may be united, skin to skin, but again he refused. He drank her in, every inch, the desire in her eyes, the quick, warm rasps of breath against his damp skin. Never knowing if this time was the last time…
Still, they had not spoken a word to each other but instead let their intense need do the talking. Because she needed him, more than she would ever dare admit to herself. She needed him like flowers needed the sun, needed him to draw breath, needed him to feel real. He was her out, her happy place, where she could go to forget everything else.
And he needed her with all the passion and fiery intensity in his being, more than he was able to keep locked inside.
His lips traced her collar bone out to her shoulder, making her squirm and moan. She grasped at the shirt he refused to remove, clawing at it viciously. He laughed then and permitted it to be removed. He never really could refuse her advances, no matter how firm his resolve was. She wrapped her legs around his torso, attempting to maximize contact between them. He allowed this, finding his way back to her lips and finally giving in to his chaotic, fervent yearning.
Within minutes, they moved as one, her fingers tracing the outlines of the muscles bulging in his upper back as he moved before grabbing around his neck. The sensation of her long painted nails in his pale skin only invigorated him more. When he reached his pinnacle, the world melted away and it was only her, her face, and those eyes…he stared deeply into them before slamming his eyelids shut.
And after she had experienced her own waves of release, she rolled from the couch onto the floor where he joined her. Without warning, she rolled him onto his back and placed her head in his chest.
"Severus…" she whispered softly.
"Mmmm," was his mumbled reply. She propped herself up on her elbows on either side of him in order to view his still form. Her eyes sought his fingers, which were resting comfortably on either side of him, and traced them up to his elbow, then his shoulder. His arms were scratched and nicked from his work, something that they never discussed. She feared what he would divulge if they ever did. She placed her ear on his chest, over his heart, and closed her eyes as she followed the resonating cadence.
"What are you doing, angel?" he asked her, and she giggled like a school girl at the deep baritone echoing in his chest.
"I'm memorizing you."
"You're what?"
"I want to remember you exactly this way. Hair all disheveled, breathing heavily, sweaty and damp."
"Sounds very attractive," he joked. She smiled at him and planted a short kiss on his lips.
"I," she began, initiating a string of kisses down to his belly button "never ever want to forget this moment with you, or how happy I am right now. So I'm memorizing you. And at night, when I close my eyes and I can't fall asleep, I'll have this memory, and your face can lull me off into a dream world."
"Would you like me to strike a pose?" He asked, bending his knees upward.
"No! Stay exactly…like this. Don't move!"
"Well now that you've said don't move, I have an urge to move…"
"Severus don't you dare!" She said, a stern expression crossing her features.
"I don't know if I can hold off!" he exclaimed, jokingly shaking his arms in frustration.
"Severus!" she shrieked. Agile as a cat, he moved suddenly, pinning her to the floor. He found her lips and passionately kissed them, feeling the warmness of love surge through every ounce of his being.
"I love you, my beautiful Lily," he whispered, finding her eyes once more.
"As I love you, my Severus." She paused for a moment, noticing the way several strands of loose hair fell in his face and the way that his dark eyes penetrated her soul like no other living being could ever hope to try. "And I want to remember you always, just like this."
"You won't have to remember me, Lily my love, for I will always be here for you." And he swept her into his arms and they found each other once more.
As his hands found hers, she suddenly heard the sound of crying. Something was crying…someone was crying. Crying? Who would be crying?
Lily woke up with a violent start. The room was pitch black and Harry's cries pierced through the room.
"It's your turn," the form beside her mumbled. She glanced down to see James there, his eyes stubbornly closed.
"Right," she said, feeling disoriented. She threw her covers off and slowly placed her feet on the wooden floor. Harry's room was just down the hall. He was only a few weeks old, and the first week she had felt more than elation at the sight of her first child. However, the newness had worn off, and now she was just sleepy and somewhat isolated.
When was the last time she'd heard from Severus? She wasn't sure. He'd been absent from their wedding and had all but disappeared from the face of the earth. She suddenly desperately longed to be at Spinner's End, to check up on her oldest friend. Wondering if the view she'd had in her dream was the same. Wondering if her heart still accelerated wildly whenever she laid eyes on him.
James was the perfect choice, the safe choice, of course. Giving into his advances at Hogwarts had been logical. But Severus…he was and would always be her One.
She picked up the small boy, with hair so like his father's, and cradled him in her arms. Sitting down in the antiquated rocking chair beside his crib, she attempted to rock him back to sleep, tears of what never could be and what she wished for more than anything, streaming down her face.