That was in the middle of Harry Potter's second year. Snape hated how his calendar revolved around Harry Potter, but it did. It was much easier for him to remember "Potter's fifth year" than 19hundredandwhatever. Even before Harry's time at Hogwarts, every date revolved around the Potters. James Potter's seventh year. The anniversary of James Potter becoming Quidditch champion. The anniversary of Lily Evans becoming Lily Potter. The day Lily and James both…
But that didn't matter now. It was Harry Potter's seventh year. Or would've been had Voldemort not returned. Harry had fled the school but now he was back. Now he was in the Shrieking Shack, Snape in his arms.
Snape gasped. He could feel the heat of blood on his neck. His own blood. He was dying, and he had had no chance to explain himself. There was information vital to Harry –Lily's son –he needed to know he, Harry Potter himself, was the last horcrux.
Severus Snape released his mind, letting his memories pour forth from him. He decided to give Harry all of them. Even his most precious ones. His memories of Lily.
The Granger girl handed Harry a flask and Harry collected the memories, floating and tumbling in the air, liquid vapor like the northern lights. Snape, his vision going blurry, was able to make out the expression on Harry's face. There was confusion, but also a wave of trust and perhaps even forgiveness. The boy realized his tormentor, his hated professor, was more than just that.
"Look at me…" Snape begged, his voice gurgling, his breath strangled. Look at me with Lily's eyes…beautiful green eyes that once looked on me in friendship…
Snape was suddenly looking into a pair of beautiful brown eyes and they accompanied a woman who was singing gracefully behind a pianoforte. He felt stricken.
"Weep you no more sad fountains…" she sang.
Had he felt sad just now? He couldn't be sure. Whatever was there to be sad about with such beautiful music in the air?
Then another person caught his eye. She looked familiar. But he couldn't place her. In fact…he was having trouble placing many things.
"Ah, Colonel Brandon!" said the merry voice of John Middleton.
Of course he was Colonel Brandon. The singing had been so delightful he had completely forgotten himself. The woman had bewitched him body and soul…sort of like magic, he half smiled, not really believing in such a thing.
"Sir John," he said, shaking the man's hand confidently. Everything came melting back as the girl's song ended. His old regiment, fighting beside Sir John… though he felt he and Sir John went back even before those days…
"Allow me to introduce you to the new tenets of my cottage!" Sir John said excitedly. "Miss Elinor Dashwood, and at the piano, Miss Marianne Dashwood! The prettiest sisters you will ever meet, eh, Brandon?"
Brandon smiled obligingly in the direction of Marianne.
Everyone began to head outside. The weather was fine for a picnic in the front lawn and then a walk around the countryside. Brandon could hear Sir John's mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings, whispering to Marianne and Elinor at the other end of the picnic table.
Mrs. Jennings was a large, gossipy lady. Brandon felt that he had seen her portrait somewhere, though he couldn't think who would wish to paint her likeness.
"Brandon's a good chap," she was saying. "A bit old, but he'd make either of you a fine husband. Though we all know Elinor has her eyes on the mysterious Mr. F!" here Mrs. Jennings paused to laugh without discretion. "And besides, I think the Colonel has eyes for you already, Miss Marianne! I'll have you married before Michaelmas!"
"Please, Mrs. Jennings, I don't think…" Marianne protested in a voice Brandon found sweet as honey.
"He does have a bit of a past, mind," Mrs. Jennings said, her voice dropping low. Brandon pretended he couldn't hear them. He forced himself to try and converse with Sir John whilst listening further down the table.
"Twenty years ago Brandon loved a woman. She died having a born an illegitimate child, and no one knew who the father was. Out of his love for her Brandon took the daughter and raised it as his own. But the child is out of the house now, and Brandon is still young. A very eligible bachelor."
"I'm half his age," Marianne said impertinently.
Sir John's talk of hunting now drowned out the ensuing conversation beyond recognition, and Brandon felt obliged to pay his old friend more attention. Yet, he couldn't help but feel Mrs. Jennings had some of the details wrong, though he knew them all to be perfectly correct…
He shook his head as they arose and began their walk about the grounds, the servants clearing away the dishes and leftover foodstuffs. What had gotten into him today? There was no need to stir up old ghosts. There was only need to make new acquaintances and make them believe he was not so very old.
Colonel Brandon walked a little bit faster.
TO BE CONTINUED...
