1981~

Snape wept bitterly as Dumbledore stood at the window. Every inch of the wizard's weathered face creased with sorrow as his hand calmly stroked his beard, quietly sorting his own feelings.

"You said…you would keep her safe," Snape clutched the doorway for support, breathless with grief.

"They put their faith in the wrong person," Dumbledore sighed, more collected in his mourning. "Rather like you, Severus. Were you not hoping Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

Snape looked away, ashamed of the tear snaking down the side of his already wet cheek. Lily, dearest Lily was dead. That lifeless body he had found in the messy house in Godric's Hollow was his beloved friend. Her unfocused eyes had burned a hole in his heart when he had found her. Even now the pain was still fresh, like a red-hot brand upon his chest. They should have protected her better; they should have done more to save her. Perhaps, he thought as he choked down a sob, he was bleeding to death from that hole and any moment now his suffering would end. It was then that his heart gave a defiant thump.

"Her son survives," Dumbledore offered gently.

Snape gathered his face in his hands and breathed like a wounded animal, hardly recognizing his own voice. He didn't want to have anything to do with that child. He had seen him in his crib, a miniature Potter. The thought of a second Quidditch-obsessed, messy haired prig made his stomach clench tighter. There was no comfort in that boy for him. There was no comfort anywhere for him. It was painful to keep crying, his abdomen full of tight muscles and churning bile, yet it was too painful to stop.

"He has her eyes," Dumbledore reminded him. "You remember her eyes, do you not?"

"DON'T," he bellowed at Dumbledore through his fingers. Every reminder reopened the wound he was sure would never heal, renewing the image of those unfocused eyes staring into the ceiling of the destroyed nursery, and Snape didn't want to associate anything of living Lily with that child. He was a stranger.

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"You said... you said..." His voice broke as a sob stopped in his throat. He choked it down, trying to quiet his ragged breathing. He regretted meeting Dumbledore on the windy hilltop. He regretted eavesdropping. He regretted swearing fealty to Dumbledore, to the Dark Lord, to anyone but Lily Evans.

"Why is it you feel such guilt for one woman, yet nothing for countless others that have fallen to Voldemort and others like you? All of the people who were shamed and tortured? They did not die clean deaths by any means."

The words stung like salt in an open wound. "I wish... I wish I were dead..."

"Wish," Dumbledore hissed bitterly, "What use would your death be to anyone?"

Snape curled up into a tighter ball, his messy hair covering his eyes from Dumbledore's gaze, which resembled twin chips of ice behind his glasses. Severus didn't need a lesson; he didn't need to feel any lower than he already did. His best friend was dead. It didn't matter they had not spoken in a long time, the thought of Lily no longer existing broke what little of his heart that was left.

"If you truly loved her," the words stung anew despite the delicate way Dumbledore uttered them, "then your way forward is clear. Prove her death was not in vain. Help me protect Lily Potter's son."

"He doesn't need protection," Snape spat, "the Dark Lord has gone!"

"He will return, and Harry Potter, Lily's son, will be in terrible danger when he does."

It was the only piece of her left now, he reasoned, the only way to be close to her again. Even if it does look like Potter. It was a poor substitute he was grasping at in the dark. He couldn't think. He couldn't make such a decision now, but Dumbledore wouldn't wait. Did he really have a choice? The only reason he was not grieving in a cell in Azkaban was because of Dumbledore. His continued freedom hinged on doing his bidding, even if the wizard wouldn't admit it now. But Snape knew. Snape gazed up at the elder man with a raw display of anguish and anger, and replied with much hesitation, "No one must know."

"Then I shall never reveal the best of you, Severus." Dumbledore's shining eyes jumped from Snape to something moving in the room behind them. Down by the table with the lemon drops and gently turning gizmos stood a young woman with fiery hair. Soft waves of familiar coppery red cascaded over her shoulders down to the top of her pleated skirt. She froze on the spot as Snape's eyes found her.

"Lily?" he whispered and took a step towards the creature, "Lily?"

Seizing the girl by her wrists he pulled himself to her, dark eyes searching for familiar green ones. His heart sank. Her eyes, while a lovely shape, were a most unsettling shade of gold. He released her, turning away with his shoulders shaking with shock and sorrow. Not a hint of green to be found. A hallucination, a wraith. Forming a thought now was a herculean effort, like fighting the tide during a hurricane. He didn't want this reality.

"I'm…sorry, have I done something?" the girl asked, reaching for Severus. He jerked away as if she were on fire.

"Eleanor, forgive me for keeping you waiting. We've had a very serious matter to discuss" said Dumbledore, stepping down towards the bowl of lemon drops pensively. Helping himself to one he continued, "Please excuse Severus, he's had a very rough night. We both have."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Eleanor said quietly, discomfort apparent in her voice, before adding, "May I help at all?"

Snape shook his head violently, willing the girl to vanish.

"I'm afraid there's not much to be done," Dumbledore replied. He sounded unnaturally calm to Severus.

"I see," the student muttered. "Professor, I apologize for barging in. I was worried you had forgotten or were out, and when I heard-"

"That's quite alright, Eleanor. We shall have to reschedule our lesson for a better time."

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Snape slowly turned around and looked at the girl again after wiping his face on the back of his hand, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. A strange feeling washed over him as he studied the girl's long red hair, the dusting of freckles on her cheeks, and those startling gold eyes. Perhaps the world was laughing at him, sending a redheaded Ravenclaw into Dumbledore's office as they were in there discussing Lily. His eyes searched for familiar features. Her slender, girlish frame and those horrible eyes ruined his illusion. Her skin was not Lily's; it lacked Lily's warmth and shone in the dark office like marble. Lily was vibrant, and lovely, and full of life, not at all like this girl who looked like a plant left too long in the dark.

Snape watched her face melt into one of pity, prompting his stomach to wretch fiercely. She seemed sorry to see a grown man in such a state of grief, making him feel all the more ashamed he couldn't lace up his emotions and lock them up like he was used to. She bade Dumbledore goodbye, and reluctantly closed the door behind herself, peeking at Snape one last time with those frightening eyes that seemed to glow in the dark stairwell like an animal's.

"Why was that girl here?" Snape snapped, eager to be rid of Dumbledore's lecturing. He had been trembling since Dumbledore had summoned him, since the mark on his arm had burned him awake. Now, all Severus could think of were the Aurors and MLE officers that were sure to come looking for him, asking questions and once again trying to prove he was a guilty man. It was tempting, in his grief, to let them take him away to Azkaban if only to quell their constant presence. He was guilty, after all. He had killed her.

"She is studying a rather unique subject," Dumbledore replied coolly.

"Which is?" He felt uncomfortable knowing that distorted phantom was walking the same halls as he.

"Something not easily taught."

Snape looked at him expectantly.

Dumbledore shook his head and caught the younger man around the shoulders, "Let us get you a stiff drink and settle you in. I expect we may have some visitors in the morning."