Harry Potter: Fives Things Severus Snape Never Said To Lily Evans
Title: Fives Things Severus Snape Never Said To Lily Evans
Author: papered
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Severus Snape, Severus/Lily
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
Notes: Happy bday, anythingbutgrey!
I.
The flower lay in her hand, petals opening and closing, and he can't help but feel a burst of excitement in his chest. Finally, here was the proof he'd been looking for for weeks. Here was another person with magic, another person he could talk to.
But when he approaches her, their conversation is short, and everything that comes out of his mouth is misinterpreted, until he's once again left without the right words to say.
He finds himself alone in the empty playground, the red-haired figure already disappearing down the block. Any attempts to explain himself are lost in the wind.
He wonders how everything had gone wrong so quickly.
Please. Don't go.
II.
Sometimes, he wonders how there's be anyone in the world who can be that honestly well-meaning, so effortlessly good. It infuriates him sometimes, her naïve selflessness that draws people in without her even trying, when he himself has to struggle along every step of the way.
"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"
She'd asked him that once - she'd always been one to ask hard questions - and he'd hesitated. But his belated answer then, he knows, would stay the same if he was asked the same question now.
"No, it doesn't make any difference."
She smiles at him, relief on her face, not realizing his inner turmoil.
You're different from anyone I've ever met.
III.
He'd been humiliated and insulted, and the last person he wants to see right now is her - her with her fiery righteousness that only serves to increase his embarrassment when all he wants to do is for the ground to swallow him up so that he can disappear.
Potter turns to him with a smirk, infuriating him further, making him want to hex that expression off. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus -"
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
The insult slips out, defiant, daring, as if some part of him had believed that using that unforgivable word would be the only way of saving his own dignity.
But as soon as the words are spoken, he realizes with a sudden fear that perhaps he'd said too much, gone too far this time. Perhaps he'd crossed a boundary into a level of hostility even Lily couldn't forgive.
Her angry voice haunts him for the rest of the day.
I swear, I didn't mean it.
IV.
He sees her, laughing in Potter's arms, and he feels his own inadequacies tenth-fold, in addition that burning hatred that's taken up permanent residence in his heart.
She's walking towards him now, a smile on her face, as if nothing is wrong - as if she hadn't been kissing James Bloody Potter just two minutes ago - and try as he might, he's unable to swallow that bitter taste in his mouth.
"Get the hell away from me, Evans."
He tells himself later that that heavy feeling in his chest is just his imagination.
Forgive me.
V.
Pulling out the dreaded Pensieve, knowing that it's too late but unable to stop himself from watching. Her pleading rings in the air, falling to deaf ears, and the flash of green is as vivid and intense as her eyes used to be as she stood between the Marauders and himself.
He sees her body fall, and his arms move without his knowledge to catch her. For one fleeting moment, it feels as if he's managed, and there's a solid weight clutched in his hands - but in the next, she's slipped through his fingers like she's always done, and he's once again helpless.
I'm sorry.
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!
Author: papered
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Severus Snape, Severus/Lily
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
Notes: Happy bday, anythingbutgrey!
I.
The flower lay in her hand, petals opening and closing, and he can't help but feel a burst of excitement in his chest. Finally, here was the proof he'd been looking for for weeks. Here was another person with magic, another person he could talk to.
But when he approaches her, their conversation is short, and everything that comes out of his mouth is misinterpreted, until he's once again left without the right words to say.
He finds himself alone in the empty playground, the red-haired figure already disappearing down the block. Any attempts to explain himself are lost in the wind.
He wonders how everything had gone wrong so quickly.
Please. Don't go.
II.
Sometimes, he wonders how there's be anyone in the world who can be that honestly well-meaning, so effortlessly good. It infuriates him sometimes, her naïve selflessness that draws people in without her even trying, when he himself has to struggle along every step of the way.
"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"
She'd asked him that once - she'd always been one to ask hard questions - and he'd hesitated. But his belated answer then, he knows, would stay the same if he was asked the same question now.
"No, it doesn't make any difference."
She smiles at him, relief on her face, not realizing his inner turmoil.
You're different from anyone I've ever met.
III.
He'd been humiliated and insulted, and the last person he wants to see right now is her - her with her fiery righteousness that only serves to increase his embarrassment when all he wants to do is for the ground to swallow him up so that he can disappear.
Potter turns to him with a smirk, infuriating him further, making him want to hex that expression off. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus -"
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
The insult slips out, defiant, daring, as if some part of him had believed that using that unforgivable word would be the only way of saving his own dignity.
But as soon as the words are spoken, he realizes with a sudden fear that perhaps he'd said too much, gone too far this time. Perhaps he'd crossed a boundary into a level of hostility even Lily couldn't forgive.
Her angry voice haunts him for the rest of the day.
I swear, I didn't mean it.
IV.
He sees her, laughing in Potter's arms, and he feels his own inadequacies tenth-fold, in addition that burning hatred that's taken up permanent residence in his heart.
She's walking towards him now, a smile on her face, as if nothing is wrong - as if she hadn't been kissing James Bloody Potter just two minutes ago - and try as he might, he's unable to swallow that bitter taste in his mouth.
"Get the hell away from me, Evans."
He tells himself later that that heavy feeling in his chest is just his imagination.
Forgive me.
V.
Pulling out the dreaded Pensieve, knowing that it's too late but unable to stop himself from watching. Her pleading rings in the air, falling to deaf ears, and the flash of green is as vivid and intense as her eyes used to be as she stood between the Marauders and himself.
He sees her body fall, and his arms move without his knowledge to catch her. For one fleeting moment, it feels as if he's managed, and there's a solid weight clutched in his hands - but in the next, she's slipped through his fingers like she's always done, and he's once again helpless.
I'm sorry.
+ Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
+ Like what you've read? Please friend!