The One He Could Never Have

The Death Eaters spoke quickly and quietly but he caught every word that they uttered.

"The Dark Lord vanquished."

"James and Lily Potter dead."

"The boy, Harry, still alive!"

The whispers travelled through the crowded room all around him. He didn't want to believe the words that floated through his ears. It just couldn't be, but deep down he knew it was true; how could it not be? He-who-must-not-be-named had set out that night with one mission: to kill Harry Potter. If he needed to kill the parents to get to the boy there was no doubt in his mind that Voldemort would have done so without feeling the tiniest twinge of remorse.

Severus Snape slipped out of the Death Eater gathering without being noticed and slinked off into the darkness. He walked through the night. Not fully aware of where he was headed he let his footsteps guide him. The thoughts whirring through his head where a jumble of mixed emotions.

If the rumours were true, Snape didn't much care what happened to the Dark Lord now. Recently, he had had a change of heart, but knew that if he was to leave Voldemort's Army his life would be in mortal danger. He had thought about going to Hogwarts and seeking refuge with Dumbledore. Now, if it were true and the Dark Lord had really gone, he could leave easily.

            Severus had been walking with his eyes watching the pavement in front of him and when he lifted them to assess his surroundings he was shocked at the scene his eyes portrayed. The wreckage in front of him was unbelievable and the glowing serpent hovering in the sky shone bright and vivid. Severus had to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the almost blinding light caused by the dark mark. The structure was no longer recognizable as the welcoming home it had been only moments before. He felt cold as the warm October breeze blew through his long black hair and he could feel the tears swelling in his dark eyes. He was glad he was alone; he wouldn’t want the others to see him in such a vulnerable state.

             He starred at the wreckage of the cottage before him, images of those who had lived there flashed through his mind. The father, arrogant and cocky, the little boy, who would never know his parents, and the mother, beautiful and kind. The last though sent shivers down his spine and he felt a sudden sense of loss. She would never find out how he truly felt. All those years he had kept it a secret.

            Try as he may have done, time and time again, he could never forget her, never wanted to forget her. He had tried to save her, tried to plea with the Dark Lord to spare her life, but it was no use. And now she was gone, along with her husband, which he felt no remorse for, and the little boy, off to live with relatives he had never met.

            He stood there, for what seemed like forever, just watching the house, looking at the scene in front of him, mesmerized almost, unable to move. The tears he had shed against his will streaming down his pale cheeks and his heart filled with sadness. He hadn’t wanted to believe the news when he had heard not even an hour earlier and had to see for himself, now, however, he wasn’t quite sure if it had been the best choice.

            When he couldn’t bear it any longer he turned, black cloak trailing behind him, and walked off into the night.

*

             He entered his bedroom. Laying his cloak on the plush leather chair by the door he walked over to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of firewhisky and took a long sip.

He didn’t know what to do; emotions were filling inside him, emotions he wasn’t familiar with, emotions he hadn’t felt before. There was a sense of loss he didn't quite understand. He hadn't felt like this even when he had lost his parents, so why did he feel this way now, when thinking of the death of a girl he hadn't even spoken to since his school days? What did it matter? She never wanted him. She was able to throw away their friendship over one silly little word.

Mudblood.

That one word, when uttered during distress back at Hogwarts all those years ago, had torn apart an incredible friendship; the only friendship that had ever seemed real and sincere to him. When he had lost that, lost her, he had lost everything he had ever cared about. His heart had grown cold for everyone but her.

Deep down he knew part of the reason she was now gone was because of him. Why did he have to be the one who had heard the prophecy, be the one to relay the words to the Dark Lord? What he had done hadn't been a betrayel to anyone but himself, his heart.

At that moment his original plan to go to Dumbledore vanished. It was layed to rest with the remains of Lily and James Potter. He couldn't go on, not now that the one person he had ever loved was gone.

Severus grabbed a piece of parchment from the untidy desk at the other end of the room and scribbled a quick note on it before stuffing it in his pocket. He finished the remainder of his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. He snatched his cloak from the chair he had thrown it down on and pulled it around him once more. In an instant he had disapperated out of the house.

With a faint 'pop', Severus arrived in the same spot he had been standing on only earlier that night, the broken house in front of him. Something was different about the scene though. Right there, on the front lawn two gravestones had erected out of the earth, each bearing a different name. The first, 'James Potter', and the second, 'Lily Potter'.

Severus knelt in front of teh latter, running his fingers over the carvings in the stone. His eyes were puffy and red from all the crying he had done that night and now that he was sitting in front of her gravestone only one single tear escaped his eye and slipped down his cheek. He pulled the note from his pocket, unfolded it and layed it on top of the earth in front of the large stone, placing a rock on the corner so that the wind would not carry it away.

The moonlight shone at such an angle that the words on the parchment were visible even in the dark. There on the paper, in Severus' untidy scrawl were the words:

I did then,
I do now,
And I will always
Love you, Lily Evans.

The single tear dropped on the parchment but did not blotch any of the ink, and just as quickly as he had appeared there, Severus disapperated.

Snape arrived back in his bedroom. He searched the selves and cupboards for the bottle he knew was there. Finally he spotted it, a small, round bottle filled with a thick black potion. He took the bottle in his hand and sat upon his bed. taking the stopper out he glanced around the room, taking in every detail as though it would be the last time he would see it. He pressed the bottle to his lips. Tipping his head back he swallowed the potion.

Without even undressing, Severus lay down on the bed and closed his eyes as he drifted off into a deep sleep that he would never wake from.