The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once.
Speaking of, Cincoflex - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. Trialia generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them.
Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental.
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The wards were down; he could leave. Instead Severus retreated to the guest suite's study and one of its chairs, trying to control his tumbling thoughts, and giving the weak excuse that the Aurors would want to question him and he didn't want them invading him at home and -
He steepled his fingers and controlled his breathing, struggling for calm. He been a Death Eater and an Order member and a blasted double-agent spy, and he would be calm. Whatever had gone on in that other world had nothing to do with him, not really. The other Severus Snape who had died a hero, died long ago, responsible for the Dark Lord's fall -
Did they give Lily no credit at all in that world? he wondered bitterly.
You're making assumptions. But it was impossible to do otherwise. A Girl Who Lived, a woman with Potter's scar, with Lily's eyes and his own unmistakable nose - what else was he to think?
In that other world, Lily had chosen him.
It was the strangest mix of despair and salving delight. Somewhere, some when, he'd been worthy, she'd forgiven him…but it wasn't here.
And clearly it didn't last long. If the cases were parallel, they had died victims of the Dark Lord's wrath, leaving that young woman an orphan and an unknowing Horcrux. Severus did his best to ignore the whisper of it would have been worth it.
He struggled to take in the implications, but his mind kept circling back to the idea, the knowledge proved in flesh and stark bone, that he'd won Lily. It was an unfamiliar shift in his old, old habits of thought. He couldn't help imagining it - he'd done it for years, what it would have been like - but now he pictured their deaths as well. He would have died first, of course, because there was no way he would have let Voldemort near his wife…or, he supposed, his daughter…without giving up every breath first.
His hands unfolded long enough for him to touch the bridge of his nose. She must have a picture. Even this isn't enough to -
The knock on his door was tentative, but still he jumped. And sighed in irritation. The conversation was inevitable, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Severus flicked his wand to open the door. "Come in, Potter."
The boy had no subtlety; he never had. But despite his flush, he'd grown enough to look Severus in the eye. "She wants to talk to you."
That he hadn't expected. His first thought was to refuse, but curiosity reared up and fastened teeth in him. "…Very well."
Harry beckoned to someone further down the hall, and a few seconds later his near-double appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and wary. Severus had to swallow before he could speak. "Come in."
Harry led the way to the seating area, looking almost protective. "Sir, this is - Heather."
A flower name. It made sense; a Muggle tradition and a wizarding one combined. Severus managed a nod in return, and a wave of his hand at the chairs near his.
Both of them sat, perching on the edge of their cushions in identical fashion. Heather stared at Severus hungrily, a distinctly unsettling expression, and he shook his head at her. "I…I'm not him."
She flushed as well, darker than Potter, and thus drew his attention to the fact that her skin was much paler than her counterpart's - like his own. "I know. But I - "
"Was curious. I admit to the same failing." No one was in control of this conversation, but Severus couldn't think how to manage it. "How did you know? Photographs?"
Heather nodded jerkily. "There're only a couple, but yeah."
She was still staring, but then so was he. Severus had never desired children, never really thought about them - but presented with this might-have-been, he was riveted. She was beautiful, in a way that was almost harsh, and she had his hands too - long and strong and elegant. She had Potter's air, as well, of maturity at odds with her age and eyes that had seen more than any twenty-year-old should.
"I don't know what to say to you," he admitted, and was startled by the flash of her smile - Lily's smile, a flick of pain across his heart.
"Me either. I never expected - " She shook her head, and Potter grinned a little.
"Who does? I didn't know this kind of thing was possible."
"Generally it isn't," Severus returned drily. "The existence of parallel worlds was, as far as I know, a strictly theoretical concept."
"Except for the mirror," the two of them pointed out in chorus, then looked at each other in astonishment.
Unsettled himself, Severus shook his head in turn. "I expect the Department of Mysteries will take up the question. Can you get back through?" he asked Heather.
She nodded. "Already have, to report success. Though we're trying to keep trips to a minimum."
"Wise of you. But why not simply pick up your captives and go?"
Heather grimaced impatiently, the same expression he'd seen cross Potter's face far too often. "Mysteries is being extra-cautious - some blather about balancing the energies. We're letting them argue it out."
"And, come on, a chance to talk to doubles from another world?" Potter interjected cheerfully. "Not an opportunity to miss."
Severus sighed. "As if your ego wasn't large enough already, Potter."
The boy grinned at him, unoffended, and a wistful expression crossed Heather's face, almost too quickly for Severus to catch.
"What have they told you about me?" he asked coolly. Her opinion of him mattered not at all, he told himself, but he couldn't help bracing himself as she drew breath to speak.
"That you were a Death Eater and a spy for Dumbledore, that you saved Harry's life many times. That you almost died." Her glance dipped to his throat, hidden beneath his high collar, and for the nth time he blessed his longstanding habit of wearing concealing clothing.
"Yes. I gave the Dark Lord the prophecy that led him to target Potter. The…result…led me to, ah, switch sides." He waited for censure, but it didn't come.
"In my, our, world, Wormtail told him the prophecy. You…well, you never became a Death Eater." Heather's gaze dropped to Severus' left arm, but seemed only curious.
"And died. Which leaves me to wonder just how essential I actually was to the fight," Severus said thoughtfully. Harry drew in a protesting breath, and Severus waved him off. "It's not a line of questioning I care to pursue, Potter, calm yourself. My ego has no need of it."
That made both young people smirk, and Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement. Harry had become a lot more tolerable upon reaching adulthood, though a large part of that was because they so rarely saw each other; Heather was undoubtedly the same. Severus eyed her with a new intensity. "Gryffindor or Slytherin?"
Heather glanced at Potter. "Gryffindor. But it was almost Slytherin."
"Ah." Severus sighed in sudden, absurd regret, and Heather laughed.
"I wanted Slytherin, actually, because of you. But the Sorting Hat warned me I had better choose the other."
"What did it say?" Potter asked interestedly, but Severus lost her answer beneath his own stunned amazement. She had wanted Slytherin?
Because of h - of her father?
What would she have become, in Slytherin? he wondered. And what would Slytherin have become, through her?
"Who was the Head of Slytherin when you were at Hogwarts?" Severus asked.
"Professor Sinistra. Bit absent-minded really, but she did a good job," Heather answered. "She was really broken up when Draco - well." Her gaze sharpened, fixing on Severus once more. "You saved him too, didn't you? Draco, I mean."
"It was on Dumbledore's orders," Severus replied stiffly. The idea of taking any sort of credit for that night was horrifying.
"He didn't survive the battle at Hogwarts, in my world," Heather said. "He marched in with Voldemort, but someone got him during the fight."
It was strange to think of Draco, perennially undecided, as being so determined. His parents…how had they reacted? Or perhaps they had lost their lives as well…
Every revelation spawned more questions. The ones he most desired to ask could not be answered by Heather, Severus knew; they could be answered by no one.
What was it like, our time together, Lily and I? Did I make her happy? Were we content? Did she regret anything?
"I meant to ask," Harry said slowly. "James Potter…"
Heather gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry - I know he was one of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix, but he died when Voldemort first rose. I can't remember how."
The small malicious voice in the back of Severus' head all but cheered. Disgusted with himself, Severus pushed to his feet, suddenly out of patience with the questions, the impossibilities. "You will excuse me."
As he strode towards the door, he heard Potter behind him, speaking consolingly to Heather. "Don't mind it, he's just like that."
Ashamed, but not enough to turn back, Severus left the house.
He didn't go far; just out into the grounds. Narcissa loved gardens, and supervised the maintenance of several - including, Severus remembered, a rather diabolical hedge maze. What a pity we couldn't have sent dear Bella to chase her tail in there. No one had actually died, the last time, but there was a reason Narcissa kept healing potions in the gardening shed.
He hadn't realised how late it was until he saw the position of the stars overhead. The manor was still alive with activity, people moving from room to lit room, but outside the dark and quiet were soothing.
Rudeness was nothing new for him, but it felt worse to behave so towards his - She's not my daughter. She's a grown witch from a different world, and the man who sired her died two decades ago.
Severus paced through the knot garden, around and around, trying to settle. He hadn't had enough time to assimilate, that was what it was; the thought of that other-worldly relationship still brought on a wave of anger, jealousy, and thin, undeniable joy, and the strength of the emotions was almost nauseating.
When was the last time you felt this much?
He could remember that precisely. It was the overwhelming relief of what should have been his last moments of life - of knowing that he hadn't failed after all, and that he was finished. Even his bitter waking later had been dull in comparison.
He was out of practice in control, after a mere two years.
Severus wondered what exactly Potter was telling Heather. Maybe explaining just why he was still alive - he wanted to blame the boy for that, but technically it hadn't been Potter's fault, exactly. The Resurrection Stone hadn't come with instructions, and if Severus had been in the boy's memory along with his other dead, well, it was to be expected after what had gone on that night. Severus could object to being returned to his damaged body, but no one could explain why he'd been the exception to the rule.
He was sure Heather would want to know more. Anyone would. He just didn't wish to supply details.
There was no need to talk to the young woman again, Severus decided. Questions on either side were merely prurient curiosity, and in any case all those who'd come through the mirror would be returning within a day or so.
He would find Robards, provide whatever report the Auror demanded, and return to his own -
An explosion of light and a shattering boom had Severus spinning back towards the manor, wand out and ready. A cloud of flame was expanding out of a corner of the building's first floor as if someone had set off a Muggle bomb within.
Severus cursed, and exercised another skill he'd let lie dormant; he rose from the ground and flew towards the house, choosing speed over discretion.
It wasn't the sea of chaos he anticipated; people were running around, but with purpose, and several wands were already directing water and fire-suppressant magic towards the flames. He joined their efforts, though the fire fought them; magical in origin, clearly.
"What happened?" he shouted to one of the Sally Budges, straining to make himself heard over the roar of the fire.
She shrugged, squinting against the light and the ash. "I don't know - but that's the room where we were keeping Lestrange."
Severus winced. "Did she escape?"
All he got was another shrug. He thought about leaving the fire behind to run a search, but - It's Robards' problem. It would be foolish to plunge off alone into the dark when he didn't even know if there was anything to hunt; anyone going after Bellatrix should have at least two partners. Severus knew he was pretty much a match for her in power and experience, but her madness gave her an unpredictability that could be deadly.
The fire was starting to die back. Severus couldn't be sure, but it looked as though it had been confined mostly to the one room; the architect who had laid the basic house-wards had done a good job.
Robards himself materialised out of the smoke, coughing a little. "Keep at it, people," he called, then waved at Severus. "Would you come with me, Snape?"
Severus walked with him around the side of the house. Near the front doors was a huddle of people, Ottlo and Narcissa among them, but Severus didn't see Draco, or Potter or his counterpart. Robards coughed again.
"What happened?" Severus repeated, summoning two cups of water without really thinking about it, and handing one to Robards.
Robards took a long gulp; his face was streaked with soot. "We're not sure. But it looks like Lestrange blew herself up. Took Greaves and two of their folks with her, too." His expression was mingled rage and sorrow.
"Blew herself up," Severus repeated, a little stunned. Final-strike spells were not unknown, but he wouldn't have thought Bellatrix the type to learn one - and the sheer power needed to perform one made doing so without a wand nearly impossible. "Someone was asinine enough to give her a wand?"
Robards' fist tightened on the cup. "According to one of their people, she actually bit Greaves on the arm until he dropped his, then grabbed it. With her mouth." He grimaced, half a snarl. "And now I will have to explain it to Shacklebolt, and Greaves' family."
Severus shook his head. Unpredictable to the end.
Robards drained the cup and made it vanish. "Anyway, Ottlo's our mediwitch as well as our curse-breaker, and she says she could use some potions she doesn't have on hand - we weren't expecting fire and explosions, it's like American telly."
Severus knew what a television was - Lily's family had owned one - but it was unusual to hear a high-ranking Auror admit to knowing something so Muggle. "I can help, certainly; I have a good supply at home."
Robards nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Talk to her then. Must get back to this."
Severus obeyed. The next few hours were spent in Apparating back and forth between his house and the manor, fetching potions and pausing in his lab to concoct a few more. Fortunately those intended to heal smoke inhalation were quick to make, if not simple.
When Ottlo needed him no more, he found a comfortable chair in the mansion's main hall - the building had been declared safe to reenter - and closed his eyes for a few minutes' rest.
He didn't think he'd been asleep long when the murmur of voices brought him out of his doze. Severus couldn't bring himself to move; he was relaxed and comfortable and still quite tired.
And eavesdropping was still one of the best ways to both protect oneself and pick up information.
The voices were similar, hers a little lower-pitched than one might expect from a woman but not unpleasant.
"…lost a lot more than we did," Harry was saying. "I thought ours was bad."
A sigh; Heather's. "And we thought we got off lucky. Though losing Professor McGonagall - I don't know how Hogwarts goes on without her."
"George is dead too?"
"More like already. He died when the Order came to get me from home. Fred…I don't think he wanted to live after that, you know?"
"Yeah. George's not the same; it's sad." A clink, as of ceramic against a table - tea probably. "Ginny, though?"
Heather laughed quietly. "Oh, she's fine. She's going to work me over for this stunt when I get home, but ask me if I care."
Harry choked. "You mean - you and Ginny - "
Her laugh this time was louder. "Come on, you should have expected it by now! I did."
"But - she's - in your world, she's a - "
"Well, bi, really, but she says she prefers snogging girls. Stop that!" A soft thwap indicated an arm-smack. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"Sorry, sorry! It's just…bloody hell, now I'm going to wonder."
"So ask her when you get home. It's not like you've got anything to be afraid of."
Severus, amused, kept his breathing steady. "I still can't get over them leaving you like that for eleven years," Heather went on, apparently continuing a previous conversation. "I mean, the Dursleys, ugh!"
"It had to do with Mum's protection," Harry replied, voice dropping. "'Sides, where else was I going to go? Sirius was in Azkaban."
"Yeah, sorry, I forgot. I got the better end of it that way - growing up at Hogwarts was like having a dozen aunts and uncles who all wanted to spoil me."
Severus didn't let his frown show. Heather had grown up at Hogwarts? Why? Had Albus adopted -
"Mum had the worst time keeping me from turning into a brat," Heather went on blithely. "She swears that the only thing that saved me was Filch."
He couldn't breathe. Severus held very, very still, part of him trying to deny what he'd just heard and the rest of him stunned beyond words.
Lily is alive?
"I wish I could see her," Potter was saying wistfully.
"I think she'd like to meet you, but they're not letting anyone through just now," Heather answered, unaware of turning Severus' life upside down for the second time in one night. "But, you know - "
Severus found himself on his feet, closing the gap between his chair and theirs without noticing the movement. Both of them gaped up at him, startled.
"Your mother," he started, and had to swallow - his voice had come out strangled. "Your mother is still alive?"
His fists were clenched so tightly that his tendons ached. Heather blinked at him. "Yes, of course. She's the Potions Mistress at Hogwarts."
He felt his knees buckle. Harry sprang up, eyes still wide, and grabbed his arm, lowering Severus into the chair he'd just vacated. Severus bent over, hiding his face in his hands, trying desperately for control and not finding it. Lily - Lily -
A hand touched his knee and then withdrew. "S-sir - I'm sorry. I didn't realise - "
Severus forced himself towards calm, inhaling and exhaling on a slow rhythm for almost a minute before lifting his head and infusing his voice with venom. "You didn't think to mention this fact, Potter?"
"It didn't come up until after you'd run out, sir," Harry returned, frowning back. "If you'd stuck around for the rest of the conversation - "
Severus cut him off with one sharp gesture and looked straight at Heather. She met his gaze without flinching, her expression mingled uneasiness and guilt, and a guilt of his own flared up as he saw it. Driven by the almost unfamiliar need to ease her distress, and where the hell had that come from, he straightened. "Miss - Heather, I apologise. I didn't expect…"
She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It never occurred to me that it would matter to you, not until Harry explained, and even then - " She glanced away, cheeks flushing again.
Severus licked his lips, and phrased his question very carefully. "How did your mother survive? Here, Voldemort slew them both."
"She wasn't home." The simple answer astonished him. "She was out for a walk; she says you, um, they had a row and she went out to cool off. This - " Heather touched the scar on her forehead. "This was you, protecting me."
It was beyond comprehension, the picture she painted with her words. Not that he would have placed his body, his life, between his daughter and mortal peril; but that he, even this other, unsullied self, could have felt a love strong enough and pure enough to turn Voldemort's worst curse.
Harry muttered something and strode rapidly away. Severus gripped the arms of the chair, struggling to take in the two hard facts - Lily lived, and his other self had died to save his child.
Heather's gaze flicked up and away for a moment before returning to him. "Harry's fetching tea," she told him. "Look, I really am sorry. Harry said most of it wasn't his story to tell, and I - "
Severus managed to raise one hand. "It's not your fault." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. "I had assumed that events were more parallel."
Heather didn't reply. A moment later footsteps approached, and Severus opened his eyes to see a mug of tea in front of them. He reached up and took it. "I apologise for my harsh words, Mr. Potter," he said formally.
Harry shrugged easily, grabbing another vacant chair and pulling it over to sit in. "It's been a long night for everybody."
The tea was only just above warm and loaded with sugar, and Severus drank it quickly. The leaf-green eyes, both sets, were fixed on him, and it was making him nervous. I have no answers for you.
Before he finished, though, he heard Robards' shout from the other side of the room, and the two of them exchanged glances and stood to answer the summons. Severus watched them go, setting aside his tea and rising himself. He was exhausted, grimy beyond what a cleansing charm could do, and suddenly very hungry.
The two young heroes disappeared upstairs on some mission, and Severus intercepted Robards, who looked even more tired.
"What are you still doing here, Snape? Go home," the Auror said, his voice still a little strained from the smoke. "You've been invaluable, but for pity's sake go sleep in your own bed. The Office will contact you for a report in a day or two."
"Wonderful," Severus said sarcastically, and Robards gave him half a grin. "Where's Draco?"
"Ottlo put him to sleep two hours ago - the poor lad hadn't shut his eyes since Lestrange broke in here. That's enough to give anyone nightmares, I suppose."
"No doubt." Severus abandoned the half-formed notion of saying goodbye to Draco, and with a nod to Robards, Disapparated for home.
xxxx
He didn't know why he didn't expect it. She had never been shy, or unable to reach for what she wanted. But two days after Severus had returned to his quiet routine of potions and books, he had convinced himself that the strange days at Malfoy Manor were over, done, behind him...no matter how he couldn't sleep, or stop thinking from wearing grooves in his mind.
So the woman standing in front of his house when he returned from a twilight walk was both a surprise and an utter familiarity. He remembered precisely the angle at which she carried her shoulders; the sight of her dropped his stomach into some endless pit, and for an instant he considered backing away and vanishing into the darkness.
But that was cowardly.
So he kept walking, his steps precise, watching as she looked up at his house, and when he was close he had to clench his jaw before he could speak.
"Lily."
She turned, a slender figure in light summer robes, hair pulled back, and his stony heart all but cracked at the simple grace of her. The smile that spread across her face hurt him, an actual physical ache, because he could remember every time she had given it to him.
Every single time.
"Sev." For an instant, he thought she was going to hold out her hands to him, but fortunately for his composure she didn't. For an instant, he thought the sound of his name on her lips was going to kill him. "It's good to see you."
"You shouldn't have come." He kept his voice cold, but he'd only ever managed to make her take offence once, and she just kept smiling at him.
"Probably not. But what's the good of being the mother of the Girl Who Lived and the former teacher of most of the Auror Office if I can't abuse the power once in a while?"
Severus shook his head, feeling as if it were filled with sand. Hunger was roaring up inside him, loud enough to deafen. "That's not what I meant."
"I know," Lily said cheerfully. "Are you going to ask me in anyway?"
He didn't want to. But he had never been able to refuse her. And his parched soul was so dreadfully eager, so anxious to be near her.
Severus put out a hand and swung his dilapidated gate open.
Lily slipped through, looking back up at the shabby house. "I'm a little surprised to find you here," she said as they walked to the front door. "You always hated this place."
"I spent very little time here," Severus replied, opening the door as well and letting her step past him. "It never seemed worth the bother to move." I never planned to live long enough to need to.
Lily made a small tsking noise, a gentle tease. As she moved into the light of his front room, Severus could see the changes time had wrought in her familiar form - grey threads in the red-gold hair, a maturity in the fine-boned face that the Lily of his world had never had the time to achieve. She was wholly a woman, not still half a girl; settled and confident.
He did not invite her to sit. Lily merely folded her arms and looked back at him, still with that little smile, and Severus had to fist his hands to keep from touching her. She's not your Lily. She never was.
"Why are you here?" he asked at last.
"Because I wanted to see you," she said, as direct as ever.
Severus shook his head. "Whoever - he - was, I am not he."
"No, you aren't," Lily agreed. "And yet, in one sense, you are." She pursed her lips, an old thoughtful gesture. "Call it a guilty pleasure."
In that moment he saw past the fact of her presence to the sorrow behind her eyes, and the yearning. Severus had to turn away, caught between knowing that she still missed his counterpart and knowing that he could not meet her need. "It's foolish."
"Perhaps." He heard her sigh. "But Heather told me…a little. Can you understand? I loved my husband with all my heart. I couldn't miss the chance to see him again, even just once."
His nails were digging into his palms, the bite just enough of a distraction for him to maintain control. "I understand too well," he said, barely forcing his voice past a whisper. "I lived my life in your name, Lily, even though I had nothing of you. I spent it all to atone, and I know it will never be enough."
All the fragile, hard-won peace of the last two years was melting away, leaving him on the bitter edge of regret once more. Why didn't I die? I was finished. I should never have come to this -
The touch of a hand on his shoulder had him flinching away like a startled cat. When he turned, Lily was looking at him with no trace of a smile. "I'm not her," she said softly.
He tried to keep back the words, but they would be heard. "And yet…you are." The Lily who could have been, the Lily he'd most desired. Alive, but as far beyond his reach as the day he'd crushed their friendship with a word.
Oh yes, he understood.
"I'm not he," Severus repeated. "I am stained beyond what you can imagine; I've done things you would spit on. Things that cannot be forgiven. Go back to your world, Lily, and be grateful that I...that he died there before he ever came to this." The last words were scarcely more than a whisper.
Lily bit her lip. "Sev - "
He turned his back once more. "Go. Please."
For once, she didn't argue. There was only the tap of feet across the floor, and an agonisingly long pause between the click of the door opening and the sound of her voice. "Forgiveness isn't up to you, Sev."
The door thudded shut.
He couldn't see. He could do nothing but feel, and all the world was pain.
xxxx
Later came anger, and he sat in his dusty library and seethed. How can you say that? he raged silently at her. You have no idea what I've done. She only saw him as the hero Potter's gratitude and Heather's wishes painted him. She didn't know what he'd been, what sins he'd committed. You would never look at me again, if you knew.
So show her, suggested the small maliciousness.
Perhaps this was his last penance.
Slowly, he rose; the room was cold and his muscles ached. A whispered word had the fire flaring enough for Severus to find the bowl on the shelf, heavy and cool when he lifted it. He blew out the dust and set it on the table.
There was so much there, and so much of it foul. Just begin at the start.
It was a long time before he lifted his wand.
The first time he opened the book of Dark spells, and the surge of curiosity and, yes, pleasure. Here was power; here was protection from fear, from ridicule, from his father's fists and his mother's anger -
The first night in the Slytherin common room, hearing the older ones speak casually of lineage and wealth and status. Knowing the first could not be his, but that the rest might be within his grasp.
Suffering under the lash of ridicule for his shabby clothes, his ugly face. Things were supposed to be better at Hogwarts, and yet the bullies were the same, the cruelties as stinging. Dark magic would give him a means to fight back, to win -
Trying desperately to hide his need for affection and approval; joining the ones who supported the Dark Lord, because they welcomed him and made him one of them.
Talking, discussing, arguing with like-minded people, all of them striving for the same ambitious goal. One leading them, dangerous and charismatic, promising them the power they craved. Promising him. If he could not have Lily's brilliant light, her tender warmth, he would have this at least.
Kneeling, bowing his head, extending his arm. White-hot agony, acid tendrils wrapping around his soul, giving up his will to bondage. Freely.
A night spent in anguish and dangerous fury; the night of Lily's wedding.
Acts of terror, of wanton cruelty. Anything to further the Dark Lord's plans, to prove his own loyalty and worth. Anything.
Until Voldemort's eyes lit at a scrap of prophecy, and horror swamped him at what he'd done.
Begging, abasing himself, pleading for Lily's life. Seeing the Dark Lord's pleasure in his grovelling.
Turning his back on his master in wild desperation, betraying all that gave his life meaning, in hopes of saving her. Binding himself again, this time with words instead of magic. And all of it useless, useless -
Keeping his promises - all of them, though they were ashes in his mouth. Hating himself for betraying all that the Dark Lord had made him, hating what he did in the Dark Lord's name, walking an endless, dreary path between two masters with Death ravening on either side. Drawing back from friend and foe alike, lest he slip somehow and make the betrayal worse.
Lily's son. Every sight of him was a reminder of loss, a memory of cruelty. And yet he would not give up, the stubborn child, despite the impossibility of his task -
Saving Harry, again and again, for the memory of a smile and brilliant green eyes. For love.
Betrayed again, by an old man's scheming. Killing someone he'd considered a friend. Trying to protect the children - the children -
Thinking he'd failed, after all the years of toil. And then just one quiet miracle, one last chance to keep his promises.
Rest denied. Peace withheld. Nothing left but empty days and silent nights, without purpose. Without anything that made life worth keeping.
Severus opened his eyes. His anger was gone; there was nothing left but bitter anguish. The bowl was almost full of silver-blue threads, swirling silently together, but there was still room.
Because she was Lily, and he loved, he added the rest.
The first time she hugged him, thin arms tight around his neck and then gone, leaving him speechless at such careless affection.
Finding a friend beyond all expecting, even though she had everything and he nothing.
The way her friendship gave him strength, how her shoulder next to his could take the sting from the taunts and the slurs.
Torn between her laughing light and the seductive draw of darkness.
The panicked horror he felt the instant after he spat that damnable epithet, more unforgivable than any curse he would ever speak.
Utter despair as she vanished back through the portrait, leaving his apologies lying in the dust.
Her lifeless body in his arms - still warm, unmarked - if only he could die too -
Her son, James' son, a boy he dared not befriend and could not love. But he was all that was left of her.
All the years of keeping promises spoken to Dumbledore, but made to her.
Seeing anguish in the boy's eyes, and wondering how Harry could care at all. Letting go at last, reaching for oblivion, and under it the tiny shamed hope that he might see her one last time…
Despite the way they filled the bowl, the copied memories fit into a small flask quite well. Severus summoned an owl and tied the vial carefully to its leg, sending it on its way with a murmured instruction.
He put the bowl away, closed the window, and sat down again. And did not move.