Forbidden
I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I receiving a profit from this.
A/n: Um, yeah. This is really different. Reviews are appreciated, please, even though it's… I dunno, you tell me.
"I still… love you." A porcelain hand reached slowly towards his face, green eyes shining from beneath a sheet of silken fire. Eyes that were still strong when alighted with a gleam of terror. Her fear was eating away at her, but she was resilient. She didn't care for the rules.
~
She had been the one to sit down beside him in the library. Looked at his book on curses. Asked if he knew anything that could keep Potter from annoying her. He answered brusquely, had to, because she was a Mudblood of a Gryffindor. She returned snappishly, asking if all Slytherins were biased. Stood up, made to leave. "I'll see you around, Severus Snape."
He watched her, studied her thoroughly. She talked with the girls in their level, conversed with the giggling females from her dorm. But she ate early, alone, every morning. Spent her break in solitude. Was irritable towards Potter. Was different.
She came up to him again, when he was sitting by the lake shore, obscured by shrubbery. Brooding over Potter's latest joke. Wanting to kill Potter with every fiber of his being.
"I thought I saw you come in here." She stepped out into his secluded spot, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the November cold.
"What do you want?" Said savagely.
She smiled mischievously. "Is it your business, Snape?" She plopped down beside him in the sand, looking at him with those green eyes.
"Go away."
"No."
"Why don't you go find Potter, have some fun with him?"
"Why don't you find Potter?" More glaring, angry staring.
"Can't you bother someone else?"
"No."
"Why me?"
"Because you're fun to bother, Severus Snape." More conversations of the like. He stopped loathing them, looked forward to them. Their banters hid some sort of skewed friendship. A friend… The thought was unthinkable. He had acquaintances, not friends.
He wondered why she didn't worry of her dorm mates' reactions. It was an atrocity for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to talk without fighting. Worried about the grief he would get by talking to her. The secret was kept.
A frigid night in January came. It was late—almost time for them to be in their common rooms. Snuck to an empty classroom, her idea. She was persuasive. Adventure-seeking. Didn't mind consequences. They sat on opposite desks. Talked, argued playfully. It was quiet. An awkward silence ensued. His heart beat more rapidly. She licked her lips nervously. It was inexplicable, had not happened before. Suddenly, she stood up, walked closer to him. Leaned in. Kissed him. He didn't think of the restrictions, didn't care of her status or his family or his heritage. Didn't pull away. It grew more insistent. He moved his hands to her body, drew her closer. Took up a fast eternity. They broke apart slowly. Slipped back to their common rooms. He thought of her that night.
The secret became harder to keep. They had to hide by the lake or in the school. Had to put on a façade for the other students. James was as annoying as ever. Hatred mounted as James was snubbed by his crush.
Love grew. Called each other names. Yearned for each other. Needed each other. Things grew more difficult. They couldn't drown them out. One loud fight. They broke it off. She went with Potter, didn't talk to him.
Hatred blossomed.
He joined an evil entity. She got married to his rival. He ran around in a mask, she fought against him. He murdered, she became swollen with child. They confronted each other in a battle. He turned around, wand raised, face masked. She was behind him, not prepared. All the jealousy he had fought against augmented before ebbing away as she stared at him with those eyes. He let her go. She lived.
He could no longer continue. Went to Dumbledore. Helped Dumbledore. Spied for Dumbledore. Heard a rumor—Potters to be killed. Told Dumbledore. Feared for her.
~
He looked at her.
"I never thought I could tell you. James—James was just something I used to try to get over you. You hurt me, Severus. My parents died. I needed security, and you weren't talking to me. I saw your eyes—they scared me. You hated me. I fell to James. He helps me, but I don't love him. I can't love him, and I'm scared. We're going into hiding soon, Severus. I just wanted to tell you that I still feel for you, in case something happened to me." She looked at him for a moment, her hair whipping around in the autumn wind, framed by the doorway. She held a bundle in her arms, her son.
"Please look after Harry if anything happens…" Her voice was frail, weaker than he had ever heard it. His anger boiled over.
"Surely," he said in a soft, icy voice, "surely your son has a godfather."
She inhaled sharply. "Sirius isn't the safest person I know. Severus, I'm just asking you to make sure nothing happens to my son… if the situation arises." She looked in his eyes, her own brimming with crystalline tears. The baby made no noise. He made no reply and she began to leave. Just before she turned completely around, she faced him again and pecked him gently on the cheek. Two identical tears trailed down her cheeks and she left then, her black cloak billowing out in the chilly air. It was the last time he saw her alive.
The news of Voldemort's downfall came as a great shock, but the biggest shock of all was Lily's body, perfectly unmarked, her face stretched in an expression of anguish. Black was arrested, Pettigrew was killed, and Remus was alone—it was as if Lily had expected it. He still heard her last words to him in his head, pleading with him to look after his son. He thought on them every day but did not act, preferring to teach at Hogwarts. Potions—the subject Dumbledore thought he was best suited for. Nine years of teaching lazy, untalented students passed slowly.
And on the first day of Snape's tenth year of instructing, he saw him. Harry Potter. He looked like his father exactly, the same hair and nose. But Lily's eyes shone from beneath the fringe of black. Even though Lily had asked him, Snape found himself hating the boy. He belittled him, because he was an expression of what he had missed out on. Of what he had foolishly thrown away. In his mind, he convinced himself that Harry was the reincarnation of his father. In turn Harry grew to loath Snape in return.
Yes, Snape had saved Harry from falling from his broom in his first year. Dumbledore had assumed that Snape was just trying to repay James for the werewolf incident. In Snape's eyes the debt had been repaid. James Potter had taken Lily and in return had saved Snape. No, in saving Harry's life, Snape was obliging partly with Lily's plea. For the next four years that was the only good thing he ever did with Harry.
Yes, he saw Harry Potter mature. Saw him get angrier and sullen. Saw his reaction as people died, as he was faced with Voldemort. Nothing changed. He learned the truth of the prank that had almost resulted in his death. It, as Snape had thought, was not an expression of James's nobility. It had been Lily to urge James. James who listened. James who came. It didn't matter.
Nothing matters to Snape anymore.
~
End
A/n: Weird…