❝ he and i are closer than friends, we are enemies linked together, the same sin binds us ❞ | in which lilium snape is bound to harry potter by fate, destined to stand on either side of a war that will soon be waged. she is cursed by prophecy, or so...
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ACT ONE, chapter one : but beneath the darkness he hides the carcass of traumatic memories
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30 october 1981 — ten years ago.
Snowflakes fell like butterflies.
It singed his skin, each flake like an ember upon flesh, and the wind was a bitter chill against his face. It was early for winter, but perhaps even the sky mirrored the dismal world it watched over. At this hour, all was dark but the warm glow, the deep pools of light, of the castle ahead — Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
A man moved through the dark murk of night, a baby carefully bundled in the thick blackness of his robes. He was panting, wand gripped tightly in his hand, looking worriedly over his shoulder as if someone was following him. He had the wild eyes of a man in danger.
All these years later, he still knew this journey like the back of his hand, but the sounds of the night all sounded foreign. Every snap of a twig, screech of a bat, shudder of wind against stone, was dangerous. In the middle of the courtyard, the dark man stood perfectly still for a moment. Listening. Then he trudged on.
Robes whipping round him, he banged on the huge, oak front door, and was repaid with a long, terrifying silence. The man banged his shaking fist once again. Finally, with the sound of bolts being unlocked, the massive door pulled open so light showered into the courtyard. Then, came the face of a familiar old wizard, illuminated by the light cast by his wand.
"Severus."
Albus Dumbledore stood before Severus Snape, looking grim at the sight. From his last visit, Severus knew enough that his old Headmaster wouldn't kill him — probably, but his newly endowed position as a spy for The Order was still on tenterhooks. The twinkling light usually shining in Dumbledore's eyes had long since gone out. His face was dreadfully intense, utterly serious. War could do that to a person.
"The Dark Lord will be watching, Severus, now more than ever. You should not be here."
"I haven't much time."
Severus opened his cloaks, blinded by a flash of a pale face, and then swiftly thrust a bundle of blankets into the Headmaster's arms. Inside, just visible, was a bleeding baby girl, and under a tuft of jet—black hair over her forehead, her dark eyes were wide open — ever vigilant, even now. Dumbledore's arms felt heavy with the weight of the child whose destiny was already decided.
"What are you doing, Severus?"
"For the safety of my child..." Severus' breathing was shallow. His look bordered even on mad, with his eyes desperate and thick black hair flying round him. "Her name... is Lilium."
"Lily." There was disapproval, perhaps even a glimpse of pity, "You couldn't possibly have named her after—,"
The Headmaster's pity sickened him, churned his stomach. He hated it, resented it, wanted to run from it.
