31st October 1981.

A young man lay on a single bed in a dark room. He lay on his stomach, his lifeless hand touching the wooden floor, his long pale fingers slightly curled. A wand was directly besides the hand, as if he was too numb to hold it. The room was a mess; books and clothes were thrown all over the floor, an odor of dust filled the room and the walls were blackening. The young man stared stonily at the wooden cupboard ahead which was infested by termites.

His black eyes were dull and empty. But a furrow between his dark eyebrows, showed something deep beneath those blank eyes. A flicker of humanity still intact – it was a glimpse of terror, fright and panic.

Sleep had eluded Severus Snape. It was almost a foreign concept to him. He slowly sat up on his elbows and buried his gaunt face in his hands, dark black, overlong, greasy hair on either side. He kept hearing his own voice echo in his head – it was a bleak voice.

'The-the girl … Sp-spare her ...'

He shuddered and suddenly felt sickened with overwhelming guilt as he remembered the night he relayed the Prophecy to his master like a faithful servant. He had been fearing for her life ever since.

'My-My Lord... Please...'

He had lost all sanity when he realized his master's plan.

The air in the room had stood still. He did not want to believe it, he hoped it was all a nightmare and that he would jump back to reality soon but to his horror, it was true. The Dark Lord has planned to hunt them down and kill them and there is nothing can he can do to stop him. Nothing. His heart began to hammer with terror, his head felt dizzy and his limbs were trembling.

No! he thought to himself.. What have I done?

His breathing was shallow.

I felt his legs weaken as he collapsed onto the ground and crawled forward in a desperate attempt to clutch his master's robes.

'My-My Lord…' His voice was barely audible and his entire body quivered.

The Dark Lord turned around. His red eyes were vacant but narrowed with annoyance as he saw Severus Snape by his feet.

Severus continued to speak with all the strength he could muster in his nervous fit. 'My-my Lord…Please…the girl…the m-mudblood-' he said in a low trembling whisper.

'What is this?' Voldemort spat dangerously. And with that he pulled his robes out of Severus' grip.

'The-the girl … Sp-spare her…please. My Lord …' he said frantically.

'Silence, you fool!'

'My Lord!' he repeated in a faint scream unconsciously wringing his hands.

Voldemort did not pay attention.

The little color Severus had left seemed to have faded from his pallid face. He was still on the ground, unable to regain the sense to stand up. His eyes darted all over the dimly lit room – to the wooden ground, to his coarse hands as he buried his face within them and shook his face. He was acting hysterical.

No…no! I should've known… He thought hopelessly. He felt a dread begin to squeeze at his heart as his insides squirmed with a mixture of nausea and horror.

'My Lord! Spare her…please.' He continued weakly not lifting his face from his hands.

He finally looked up at his master pleadingly.

Voldemort looked at him. A sneer spread across the thin mouth on his serpentine face. His eyes lingered over his servant's face and finally into his black eyes.

'Of course…a childhood friend, Severus?' asked Voldemort softly.

Severus did not speak but quickly avoided his gaze.

Voldemort started to move around the room. 'A Mudblood, I believe … Talented witch she is nonetheless. I have sought to recruit her and her husband to join our cause, as you may know.'

Severus continued, 'My Lord … Please-'

'You have been very valuable to me, Severus. Very valuable. And I am grateful that you have relayed the Prophecy to me.' He halted and looked down into the pale face, 'But I regret to inform you that the plan must be carried out. 'He finished in a cold voice.

Severus looked up at once. His face was stark white, his eyes were blank. 'My Lord … Take the child but Spare – spare the girl. Please.' He croaked.

Voldemort raised his hand up in impatience. 'Very well, very well Severus, if that is what you desire…I shall spare her.'

For a second, Severus felt a wave of gratitude and relief as he thanked his master but it wasn't before long that he was unconvinced. The Dark Lord was a single-minded man, he was well aware of this. Nothing stood in the way of his power, least of all an insignificant promise to his servant. But there was still hope. There was one man. Severus stared fixedly at the ground cautious to avoid his master's eyes as he thought of the next plan of action.

Severus stared down at his hands, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

What have I done?

Is she safe?

He had asked Dumbledore constantly who on each occasion replied that the Potters had been given instructions to ensure their safety.

For the past three years, his occupied his mind with other tasks, tasks of a Death Eater but she was always there – deep in the back of his mind. Although he did not consciously think of her, a part of him had lost all hopes of entwined lives once she had gone her way. But he had never let go. He couldn't and had not realized what she truly meant to him until her life was under threat. And now it was a painful realization.

He always knew … but never admitted it.

Coward.

A cold sweat trickled down his neck.

He loved her.

I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!

He shuddered at the sound of his own immaturity. He felt his insides squirm with regret. He had taken her for granted. Ever since they went separate ways, he had his mind set- or rather mind closed – on following this path. He deserved to have lost her allegiance. She had told him time and time again with genuine concern that his obsession, his aim would not do. It would neither do any good for himself nor for her or anyone else for that matter. He remembered how he use to block the image of her accusing eyes, with great difficulty, from his mind every time he would carry out his responsibilities – torture, murder, spying … And his blindness did ultimately lead to her death sentence.

He felt powerless. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees as they moved towards his chest. Fear and helplessness inundated him. He did not want to risk closing his eyes, afraid he would fall asleep. What if he awoke to hear about her death? The thought was dreadful - like falling asleep and never waking up again. A part of him would die and never move on from then.

Please stay with me, Lily.

He closed his eyes tightly and thought of her vibrant laugh and sparkling green eyes. He felt his thin lips curl into a small pitiful smile as a single tear rolled down his cheek, holding on desperately to any memory of her as a source of comfort. He thought of the feel of her warm body against his when they would embrace each other, the pressure of her head on his shoulders when he use to console her , the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair and the feel of her soft hands.

Please. Stay with him. It doesn't matter.

She'll be fine… She has stayed alive all these months. He told himself desperately time and time again.

He held his knees with all his might, unwilling to let go as if he were holding onto Lily Evans herself and lost himself in thoughts of her green eyes, her radiating beauty that always left him speechless.

A temporary relief.

Please don't leave me.