Wrong Kind of Hero
Chapter Sixteen: the light at the edge of the world
"Why can I not rid myself of you?" Snape demanded furiously. Lily was caught completely off-balance. She'd assumed they were Apparating to a more private and appropriate place for their romantic activities, yet the moment they'd appeared, he'd dropped her hand like it pained him. "Am I so weak?" He continued, eyes flashing dangerously. "I have tasted you but once; am I so easily swayed? Why can you not let me be?"
"You wish to be rid of me?" Lily ventured, confused and hurt by this sudden outburst. He should be kissing her, not screaming at her.
"YES!" He shouted. Her eyes widened in horror. "No," he said hastily. "I don't know." He let out a sigh. "I cannot resist you. And I ought-" He broke off, clenching his hands into fists. "There are many things I ought to do and haven't. Cannot." His gaze flickered to her face, then away again. "Where you are concerned."
"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it. "I'd spare you if I could. But I'm afraid I love you too well to spare you, and not enough to let you go."
"Don't ever love me that much," he muttered, clasping his hands behind his back. "That sort of love is worthless to me."
"And I am wholly sick of worthless love," she concurred heavily, staring at the window.
"Potter," he said darkly, inferring her meaning. "Tell me about this unfaithfulness you suspect him of." So that I may know just how much to torture him before he dies.
"He's never home anymore, and when he does finally come back at odd hours of the night, he reeks of alcohol or strange perfumes. He's always disheveled and distracted. I can't blame him; I haven't made my best attempt at being the perfect wife," she said, rueful. Snape said nothing to this but nodded curtly. She could see the faint glow of the Dark Mark through the fabric of his shirt, and she knew he would be gone again. She waved him away with one hand, resigned to it.
"Rest assured, he will be discovered and justice meted. These things always manage to sort themselves out," he said ominously. And with a soft brush of his lips on hers, he was gone.
There were complications in Lily's pregnancy; she bled too much for a healthy pregnant mother, and as a result she was confined to bed rest for the remainder of it. She wrote letters to Sev as much as she could, with a forced cheerful tone that ignored the fact that she was constantly in pain and James was never home. Severus was always too busy or in too dangerous a situation to drop by, but he always sent his love and his concern (he knew there were things she wasn't telling him). She in turn sent her 'best wishes', and she distanced herself from him. She hoped he would not mourn too much if she should die. James came in with a tray of food for her at mealtimes, and occasionally he would sit by the bed while she, in her frustration with being unable to move, debated baby names with him. They settled on Harry for a boy, and Violet for a girl, and neither of them voiced the doubt that mother or child might not make it unscathed through the pregnancy.
In December, she gave birth to a son via Caesarean section. Her labor lasted 26 hours, during most of which she was unconscious and doctors were struggling to save her life. The child was stillborn. The doctors apologized profusely that they could not have saved both her life and the child's, and they apologized again for the complications that practically ensured she would never have children. Some things, even in the wizarding world, could not be helped. She read in the letters from Sev that the Longbottoms had given birth to a boy, Neville. Naturally, she hadn't told him about the stillbirth; his letters were forcedly cheerful too, and he would stop talking about her more fortunate friends if he knew the truth just yet. James quietly moved to a different room of the house and didn't say much to her if he could help it. She let him. Lily didn't feel like going out much, and the letters to Sev slowly trickled out and then stopped altogether. She needed a break from living for a while, if that were at all possible. Severus gnashed his teeth and wished she'd tell him what was going on, but he gave her space.
Winter turned to spring, James and Lily still never spoke to each other, and one day Lily woke up from her grief-stricken trance and decided she'd finally had enough of living in an empty house in silence. She got out of bed, threw open the curtains and inhaled fresh air for the first time in months. She arranged to meet Sev again and he graciously acquiesced. Lily knew she probably looked awful, pale and gaunt and sad, but she tried her best to look presentable and hide the haunted look in her eyes. She knew she'd lost a lot of weight, which she tried to hide by making herself up and doing her hair as best she could. They met in a neutral place, a teahouse in London down Diagon Alley. She was sipping at Earl Grey, waiting for him, when he arrived by Floo with a bang and a clatter of precious china.
"James and I might be divorcing," she said without preamble as he sat down and she poured him a cup. She'd taken to putting three lumps of sugar in her tea, but she knew he liked his black, without cream or sugar.
"Oh?" He was as still as a statue, but it was an alert stillness. Important things hinged on her answer.
"Harry was stillborn," she explained. "The birth almost killed me. I think I'm sterile now, and James has always wanted to be a father."
"I'm so sorry," he said, feeling utterly inadequate, wanting more than ever to kill James Potter. He tentatively reached his hand across the table and lay it across hers. He kept his comments to himself about how awful she looked. He knew he was no sight for sore eyes, himself.
"It's awful of me, I know, but I felt- almost relieved," she confessed in a low voice so that the other patrons wouldn't hear. They were in a private corner, but she couldn't be too careful when airing her private grievances, even to an old friend. Or lover. "Infinitely sad, yes, but I kept thinking this boy is going to kill me. I don't know why." She looked ashen. "It's a horrible thing to think. Does that make me a terrible mother?" She sought reassurance in his eyes, and his thumb stroked across her palm. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
"No, it doesn't. It makes you exceptionally wise. Bringing a child into this dangerous time is perhaps foolish enough, but as it turns out… perhaps you shouldn't- this is classified information and I'm not sure that…"
"It's alright, just tell me. Anything to make me feel less like a monster."
"Very well." Snape took a breath. "Your son would probably have been a target for Voldemort. Something to do with his birthdate and one of Trelawney's real prophecies. I'd explain more if I could." He gauged her reaction carefully, worried she might faint from shock. It appeared, however, that nothing could shock Lily Potter anymore.
"I appreciate your telling me the truth," she said calmly. "It helps."
"It sounds coldhearted to say, but it might be for the best that he didn't survive," Snape murmured, and Lily felt a flood of relief rush through her that she wasn't alone with her doubts. Someone else was voicing what she'd so often wondered. "Your son might very well have killed you." He stated it matter-of-factly. And I wouldn't have survived the loss.
That hand that held her teacup trembled and she set it down for fear of breaking it.
"Now I suppose you see why I didn't write to you," she said softly, unable to contain her shivering.
"Lily," Severus said, alarmed. Was she about to cry? He cast a spell of invisibility over them both, just in case, to protect her privacy.
"Would you sit over here, by me?" She sniffed.
"Certainly." Concern knit his brows together and he exchanged sides of the table. He put an arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair; he murmured "it's alright. The worst is over. You're going to be alright," even though he knew no such thing.
"I never stopped loving you, Sev," she said, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "Life just got in the way."
"I know," he said. "I know." This time when he buried his face in her hair, she smelled of peaches and rain and her lips tasted of old promises. Only one obstacle remained between them now, and soon, she would be his.