It was raining as Severus stood in the alleyway. He'd only apparated just down the street. He couldn't bare the look on Potter's face. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and steadied himself. He'd stood in this alley so many years ago. The night hadn't been too much different than this one, but it hadn't been raining. It had been storming without rain, though the storm was due to the magical explosion that had occurred.
Severus wasn't entirely sure why his first instinct had been to apparate to this alley, with the home of James and Lily Potter out to the right of the end of the alley. He pressed his back harder into the concrete alley wall. If he had known Harry had lived in Godric's Hollow sooner than just before leaving, he would have been able to better prepare himself. It had been years since Snape had to prepare himself for something so painful and traumatic. He didn't blame Hermione, but he was annoyed at her assumption he knew anything about where Harry Potter lived. Now, he stood where he'd stood so many years ago. The feelings of brokenness and raw grief clawed at his chest as they had back then. The rain soaked through his clothing. If he could face the house now, perhaps future visits to Potter's home, which he suspected wouldn't be avoidable forever, might be easier
When his Mark began to burn furiously on that fateful Halloween night in 1981, Snape had stumbled to Dumbledore's office. The burning didn't feel like a calling. Something was wrong. Dumbledore, sensing immediately that something terrible had happened, investigated. Then, when he had told Severus that Lily and James had been killed, Snape's entire world collapsed. Oh, he had loved Lily... in the way that broken boys loved - desperately and imperfectly. He'd lost her friendship years before, a regrettable angry retort - the shame of which he'd carried his entire life. The of proximity to the flame in which he'd long been drawn to like a moth had sent him spiraling into the Dark. He called her that word, but he'd said it so many times before that in her presence. Looking back, he had realized that each time he'd said it, he'd been saying something about her indirectly. It had probably been painful for her, and then when he'd finally used it on her, it was too much. How he had begged... Apologized, and wept.
The painful thing about living long after losing a loved one was that the full picture of a person comes into view. Lily has been perfect to Severus as a boy, but he'd long since lost that rosy-colored view of her. As an adult, years after she'd died, he'd been angry, and bitter that she'd never forgiven him. Friendships could endure more than an angry comment spoken out of humiliation, surely, but Lily had resigned him to being a Death Eater long before he'd resigned himself to being one. She wasn't responsible for his mental health, and she didn't need to "fix him," but he had needed a friend, and she'd given up on him long before he'd uttered that word. His fascination with the Dark Arts stemmed from a desire to protect himself. He was neglected and abused at home, bullied relentlessly at school... He was a scrawny boy, a lanky teenager. What he lacked in, at the time, physical strength, he had made up for in knowledge, and yes, some of it had been Dark Arts knowledge.
No, Lily had been young and selfish, but he did not blame her for that any longer. Whatever James Potter had been to Severus, he was not that to Lily. He'd watched them throughout their Seventh Year. James loved her, he always had, but in a way that worked with Lily and not against her, in a way that boys who had healthy romantic relationships modeled for them did. James left Severus alone for the most part after the incident at the Shrieking Shack, with the exception being the incident where he'd been strung up by his ankles and had called Lily that word, which had largely been at Sirius Black's encouragement and incitement.
She'd made the right choice for her. She'd married the wizard she had loved and, to his credit, he knew that James had loved her too. He had died trying to protect his wife and son. Severus had seen the evidence of that. James Potter, arms cast out protectively, wand inches from his lifeless hand, at the top of the staircase. Whatever James had been to Severus as a boy and teenager, Severus knew that he had loved his family. Seeing James like that had been unbelievably traumatizing for Severus, which had surprised him. He didn't like James. In fact, most of the time, he hated James. Still, Lily had loved him, and he had wanted Lily to be safe, and happy. Seeing Lily, on the floor without a wand in sight, her arms outstretched protecting Harry had been devastating. However imperfectly he loved Lily, he had loved her.
That love, and the grief, and knowing he owed her had driven him for much of his life. It had also been lorded over him by Dumbledore, and had been a tool to manipulate him with. For a long time, Severus was not able to truly even mend the wound that was his grief because Dumbledore insisted on pouring more guilt into it. It was a way to control Severus, to ensure his loyalty, though if Dumbledore had known Severus at all, he would have know that he needed to do nothing to ensure his loyalty. Severus had given his word, and he was loyal to Lily. Nothing would have ever been able to change that. He had long been able to put aside his feelings for Lily, but grief is unending. It changes over time, but he still felt grief, and guilt. The guilt had lessened so much over time, especially after the war, but on some level, he felt like he would always feel guilty in some capacity over his role in her death, in James' death, and
He opened his eyes and looked down the alley. It was raining harder. It was very dark out, so it must have been quite late by now. He had no real idea how long he'd been standing in the alley as the rain fell on him. Severus could have easily cast a charm to keep his clothes from getting wet, or summoned an umbrella, but he didn't. The steady pelting of water on his face and his clothing grounded him. He would not be able to avoid this place any longer. Hermione and Harry were friends - best friends. He wanted to be present for Hermione. He wanted to be able to go places without the restrictions of his past traumas, so he would have to face this place. He had never considered it to be one of the places he might have to go in his healing journey. He'd returned to that windy hilltop where he'd begged Dumbledore to hide the Potters. He'd returned to his childhood home on Spinner's End and burned it to the ground. He had not returned to the Shrieking Shack, or to Godric's Hollow. There were some places that were too terrible to visit, but he knew he could not avoid this place any longer.
He took a couple steps down the alley toward the street. It began to rain harder. He stopped and leaned against the stone wall again. Hermione. Severus was under no illusion that he'd be the most amazing husband in the world, but he'd be damned if he were going to be what most people expected him to be - distant, uninvolved, cruel. He did not want her to suffer with a husband that never attended anything with her, and to do that, he needed to face Lily's house again. This couldn't be a hang up. He knew he had so many other innate hang ups. Swallowing bile, he walked toward the end of the alley. Closing his eyes and thumbing his wedding band, he took a steadying breath. Nobody else would be outside in the pouring rain. Opening his eyes, he stepped out into the street as he had done so many years previously.
His eyes raked over the destroyed house. It had fallen apart more since he'd been there last. He Briefly remembered Dumbledore saying it had collapsed shortly after Hagrid had taken Harry out of the home. When he'd come that night, the house was mostly intact with the exception of the nursery. He stepped closer to the house. He could see what looked like a war memorial obelisk, but as he stepped nearer, it transformed into James, Lily, and the infant Harry. He looked away and clenched his teeth. He was soaking wet, and despite the coldness of the rain, he felt completely physically numb. He looked back toward the memorial. The features of each face were so perfectly done that the statue looked real except for the marble color. His eyes rested on Lily. Every single feature was correct. He looked back toward the house and stepped to the gate. Resting his hand on the gate, a sign rose up from the yard.
He read the golden letters on the wooden sign: "On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family." He could hear ringing in his ears. Peering up at the house, he pushed open the gate and stepped onto the property. He felt wards shift, but thought nothing of it. His dark eyes looked over the destroyed home. This would always be his fault. Nothing, and no one, would ever convince him otherwise. Nothing would ever assuage that guilt. Nothing would ever completely ease the absolute agonizing grief. Tears stung his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. It had been a long time since he'd cried over this, and longer still since he'd stood in that place.
"Professor Snape?" He jumped, turned, and drew his wand in a breath. His dangerous dark eyes met emerald. Harry held up the hand not holding an umbrella. "I have wards set to alert me if any person enters the property..." Harry eyed Snape. "What... are you doing here? Are you all right? Hermione left a little over an hour ago..."
Snape blinked, seeming to realize where he was and where he'd been caught. He strode past Harry, which was much less intimidating when he was soaking wet. Harry turned around and watched him step on onto the street. Severus back once more, glanced at the house, and then looked briefly at Harry. Then, he disapparated.