Summary: One-shot. Post HBP. Spoilers. "The irony of seeing the eyes of the woman he loved on the face of one he hated so much…"- Snape reflects upon his unrequited feelings for Lily in the aftermaths of the Lightning-struck Tower.
A/N: I've always wanted to write something involving Snape and Lily. Ever since 'Azkaban', I've been convinced that Snape liked Lily. Why else would Snape hate James so much? A hatred so deep that he transcends it upon poor Harry must surely stretch beyond the superficial reasons of envy and jealously. So far, I feel that the reasons JKR has supplied to us is just insufficient. Based on these suspicions, I formed my SnapeLily theory, and details presented in Book 5 and 6 only convinced my further that indeed, Snape was in love with Lily. This was the reason why Dumbledore trusted Snape so much. Of course, this also helps explain why Snape hates Harry so much, because not only is Harry James' son, he is the ultimate cause of Lily's death.
Please note, I do not wish to participate in the whole Snape is good vs evil debate. I've tried to keep in neutral territory for this one-shot and I do not provide a theory as to Snape's true allegiance. I've attempted to word things ambiguously, so it could be read either way. The reason for this being that I can't make up my mind about Snape. So read this story however you like; it's open to your interpretation. Just don't bombard me with reviews telling me your theories about Snape, and that I have it wrong.
Disclaimer: Cause I'd totally be sitting here and writing fanfiction if I owned Harry Potter…
So, I present, for your perusal, criticism and hopefully enjoyment, "Beyond Redemption".
Beyond Redemption
"I forgot," lied Harry, Felix Felicis leading him on. "You liked her, didn't you?"
"Liked her?" said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more. "I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her… very brave… very funny…"
-Harry Potter and Horace Slughorn in "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"
He had done it.
He killed him.
He, Severus Snape, would forever be remembered by history as the man who killed the great Albus Dumbledore.
When the moment finally came, Snape even surprised himself. There had been no hesitation as he had expected, no remorse, no guilt; only intense hatred and revulsion. At what? He was at loss- perhaps himself, or perhaps at the fact that Dumbledore had begged.
Almost instinctively, Snape dug into his pockets, and pulled out a small, slightly rumpled photograph. A muggle photograph where people didn't move. The colour had faded slightly over the years, the edges had frayed and one corner was torn. For the past year, he had taken to keeping this photograph close with him, almost like a talisman.
He stared into the picture, into the face of a beautiful young woman with flaming red hair, emerald green eyes and a warm smile. A young woman he had not seen alive for fifteen years.
Lily Evans.
That's what she would always be known to him as. Not Lily Potter, not the woman that married the git James Potter, not the mother who gave birth to the 'Chosen One', but simply Lily Evans. That girl with flaming red hair and kind emerald-green eyes, who had tried to be nice to him at school, who was the only one that defended him against Potter's little gang, who he had somehow lost in his life.
How he loathed James Potter. He had from the first trip on the Hogwarts Express. That boy, because the image of Potter forever imprinted in his memory was that of a fifteen year-old boy with his trademark cocky smile and a stupid snitch in his hands, had everything. In truth, Snape was jealous of James Potter. Potter was brilliant at Quidditch, Snape could hardly ride a broom; he had a family that loved him, Snape's muggle father was disgusted by magic and showed it in more than words; Potter was the ringleader of his gang of friends, Snape was always the loner being teased; Potter excelled in his classes without trying, Snape worked day and night, yet never seemed to equal him. The truth was, despite Potter's troublemaking and pranking ways, the Hogwarts population loved him. Younger students worshipped him, older ones respected him, and even the teachers had a soft spot for the handsome, funny, Quidditch extraordinair. There was Potter, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, witty, smart… And then there was Snape, a Slytherin nobody who was a 'slimy git' that 'never washed his hair' and had eyes only for the Dark Arts.
Potter had everything Snape had ever wanted but never had, from looks to Quidditch to school. So why should it have been different when it came to her? It seemed only natural, that Lily Evans, the girl who Snape had secretly loved, should also become his. It only worked.
He could not precisely locate the time when he came to love her, because by the time he had realised it, he was already head over heels for her. He had tried to stop himself desperately, protesting that she was a mudblood, after all. But even as the inward battle raged on, he knew from the start which side would win eventually. His love for Lily overrode any reason, any rationality, any Slytherin pride.
But then of course, he had another problem. How could Lily Evans, the gorgeous, popular Gryffindor prefect, Head Girl, ever possibly like him of all people? His love for her did not blind him to the extent to think that her attentions and niceties towards him were anything more than pity. She looked out for him because he was her pity case, yet contrary to normal circumstances where he would've loathed such sympathy, with her, he did not seem to mind…
But then Potter liked her too. Though this annoyed Snape, it did not surprise him. After all, who could resist her charm? Yet how could he, the nobody Slytherin, compete with golden boy Potter? Most of Hogwarts considered Lily Evans to be marked as James Potter's property.
Apparently he needn't have been worried. Lily hated Potter as much as Snape. Well, perhaps a little less. She was one of the only people who did not dote upon him, who dared to puncture his ego, who didn't mind telling him off in a most down-to-earth fashion ("You arrogant bullying toerag!"). Snape's heart would always jump gleefully when she stood up to Potter, especially when it was for him.
In fifth year, came something that Snape would regret for the rest of his life, and his worst memory. It was just after the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL, and all the fifth years escaped to the court yard for a break to relax and enjoy the sunshine before heading back inside to revise for the next exam. Snape had just been going over his test paper, when Potter, being his usual bullying self, decided to hex Snape for the fun of it. He remembered being hoist up into the air by the ankle (by his own spell no less), his robes falling down the sides, the rush of blood to his head, both from hanging upside-down and embarrassment, the jeering, mocking faces, the laughter ringing in his flushed ears…
But these were not the reasons why he hated this memory.
She had come. She had stood up for him when no-one else did. But he drove her away: he called her that despicable name that she so hated- mudblood. He wasn't quite sure what drove him to such stupidity, but he was embarrassed, horrified to be seen like that in front of her, and ashamed at the fact that he needed her protection. His Slytherin nature took over, and the words just tumbled out of his mouth without being processed. Snape remembers, so vividly, the look on her face as he uttered those syllables, the momentary flash of hurt and pain before being replaced by anger and hatred. She spat at him, using Potter's nickname for him- Snivellus. She had never done that before. And as she turned around and left him to the mercy of Potter, he watched her retreating figure, her flaming red hair bouncing in the wake of her anger and indignation, and knew that he had crossed the line. Knew that redemption was no longer a possibility.
After that day, she never took notice of him again. There were no more kind smiles from her, no more standing up for him, no more brief moments of eye contact in lessons. Whenever he dared sneak a glance at her, she was always either completely engrossed in schoolwork or chatting and laughing with her giggly girlfriends. Sure, she never proceeded to hex or tease him as others did, but her being oblivious to his existence hurt him beyond anything else.
Then came seventh year, and Snape's worst fears finally came true. Potter was made Head Boy, but instead of acting his usual arrogant self and strutting around to show off, he seemed to have deflated his head over the summer. He stopped hexing people just for the fun of it (though Snape, naturally, was an exception), the pranking lessened to a degree, and in general, he became far nicer.
Snape wasn't the only one who noticed.
Two months into seventh year, the first Hogsmeade weekend came up, and Lily Evans went on her first date with James Potter.
That date would seal her fate.
Seventh year passed in a flash. Both her and Potter joined the Order shortly after graduating from Hogwarts. A year later, they were engaged.
On that day, the last glimmer of hope he had always held in his heart faded. And on that day, Snape died. Potter had finally completely stolen her away. Potter did not deserve her. Potter, that arrogant, bullying git with an ego big enough to fill the Hogwarts Great Hall, who had hexed her on the second day of school, only to realise how wonderful she was in third year, and then proceeded to ask her out every single day after that.
But she had chosen Potter. She loved Potter.
Snape wasn't present at her wedding; he had been on a mission set by the Dark Lord, not that he would've been invited anyway. Apparently, she looked beautiful. He did not doubt it. All he had wanted was for her to be happy, even if it was not him that could make her so.
Yet never did Snape imagine that he would be partly responsible for her death. That by revealing the prophecy to the Dark Lord, he had inadvertently set him onto the Potters, and signed Lily's death certificate.
This was the reason why Albus Dumbledore trusted Severus Snape.
And on that glorious day after Halloween, when the wizarding world celebrated the demise of the Dark Lord, rejoiced in the long-awaited victory to the war, he mourned. Lily Evans, that beautiful, kind girl had died, remembered by the world only as the mother of the Boy-Who-Lived.
But to him, she was so much more.
If only she had not married James Potter. There would've been no Harry Potter then, and the prophecy would be unrelated to her, and she could've lived a simple happy life. But no, Lily would've gladly exchanged her life for her son's, for the victory against Voldemort, for the thousands of innocent lives that would've otherwise been lost. That was the Lily he knew- brave, loyal, spirited.
Five years ago, when Harry Potter first walked into Hogwarts, Snape was determined to hate the son as much as he hated the father. Snape chose to remember him as the son of James Potter. It wasn't exactly hard- the boy was a walking replica of his dead father, right from the messy, untameable black hair (that the older Potter so fondly and habitually mussed) to the scrawny build and stupid glasses. Like father, like son. Harry was every bit as arrogant, unworthy and mediocre as his father before him. And of course, both had the exact same affinity for playing hero. Stupid Gryffindor bravery.
It wasn't difficult at all to get the boy to return the hatred mutually; Harry Potter was a fool that wore his heart on his sleeve and allowed others to toy his emotion, just like his father before him. A few jeers in Potions, unjustified point deductions, some snide remarks was all it took. Snape admitted he enjoyed taunting Harry infinitely. After all, he was only returning the favour James had bestowed.
Sometimes, Snape swore that James Potter was back alive. Harry's mannerisms, the way he cocked his head, that lop-sided foolish grin, the revulsion and hatred etched in his face when he saw Snape, was so reminiscent of James. All this, and the fact that he looked exactly like James Potter.
Except for the eyes. Except for those emerald green eyes that once were Lily's.
The resemblance really was quite uncanny. It was as if someone had placed Lily's eyes into his face. There were a few odd moments, when Harry would stare back at him with his brilliant green eyes, that Snape could see glimpses of Lily in him. In these moments, Snape was reminded particularly that the boy in front of him was not only James Potter's son, but also Lily's…
Yet this resemblance only served to anger him further. How dare that Potter tarnish Lily's beautiful eyes with his ugly arrogant face? It was almost as if James Potter was mocking Snape behind those green eyes, laughing, 'I got her in the end, and you didn't'.
Because even though Potter was dead, he was the winner.
The irony of having the eyes of the woman he loved stare back at him on the face of one he hated so much.
And of course, Harry Potter was the reason that Lily Evans was no longer alive in this world. If was that boy's fault that Voldemort went after Lily, it was for the boy that Lily died. It was all because of Harry Potter that Snape lost the one person he sought to protect. He had never been able to apologise to Lily for that time in fifth year, when he had called her a mudblood… Because of Harry Potter, Snape could no longer redeem himself. And every time he looked upon the boy, he would feel a stab at his heart, because he was reminded of what he lost, of what he could've had, of being mocked, taunted…
Snape was drawn out of his bitter reminiscences as he felt the Dark Mark burn painfully on his left forearm. The Dark Lord was calling him. Doubtlessly, wanting to discuss tonight's events.
Almost whimsically, Snape wondered whether he could make a choice at this moment, to change things…
But no, he could not do anything to change it now.
Because just like that day when he called Lily a mudblood, somewhere along the way in his life as a double-agent, he had crossed the line of redemption.
Well, thought Snape with a grimace, there's no turning back now. He had chosen this road, from that fateful moment when he fired the killing curse upon the sickened headmaster. And he would tread this path faithfully until the end.
No regrets, no looking back, beyond redemption.
With a swish of his cloak- CRACK- Snape disapparated.
A/N: Please drop a review!