She was by the lake, alone but for her shadow in the grass. Her hair shone with the sun, her white-golden skin beautiful against the green of the earth. Severus only dreamed of approaching her; only dreamed of allowing himself to dip his feet in besides hers, talking of the day and the world around them. She would laugh at something, something ridiculous, that he said, and they would retreat to the castle holding hands. Potter was always chasing after her, but Snape had something he didn't - friendship.

Lily stood up and began to turn around. Severus ran.

--

She was swinging, swinging against the sun, she and her sister, both flowers. Her red hair flew in the wind she created behind its headband, and she was laughing, laughing. "Lily!" Petunia laughed. "You're going to kill yourself if you go any higher!" Lily only laughed, and Severus thought she could conquer death with that laugh. Indeed, she was going very high. Severus only had a moment to move his eyes from Lily, laughing, to Petunia, suddenly frightened-looking and wide-eyed, to Lily, falling like a bubble, falling like the rain, falling like the last grain of sand in a Time-Turner.

But she bounced. She bounced back up, still laughing, still smiling, and landed, gently, on the soft sand. Severus knew then that she was a witch, knew that he loved her.

--

It had been two years since he had dared spit out the loathsome name, and he knew Lily hadn't forgotten, but he still dared approach her, alone, in the library. He sat down, but she didn't look up. "Lily," he said, "I'm sorry. I know I've been awful, and I know you don't like me, but I'm sorry, Lily, I'm really sorry, and I think I love you." He hadn't planned it, he hadn't planned it at all. Whenever he had told her that as children she had laughed, smiling at him with red hair and green eyes and a look that said, quite clearly, "I love you too." Now she only stopped writing, briefly, and then continued. He wouldn't get a look, a smile, he wouldn't get green eyes full of happiness and youth, only a coldness that tore at his heart.

He started to get up, but he heard her clear her throat. "You know," she said, looking up at him with a look of regret and near-sadness. "I'm with James Potter now." That was all he needed.

--

He was sixteen. A dark wizard named Voldemort was picking up supporters, and Avery was one of those supporters at Hogwarts. "Snape," he whispered, in the green light of the common room. "He's amazing. Plans on purifying the wizarding world, getting rid of all the rotten Mudbloods and Muggles." Severus twitched involuntarily at this, though Avery didn't notice. "Could learn the most amazing magic from him. Think about it? I know how you're into the Dark Arts, he's really brilliant..."

Oh yes, Voldemort was very brilliant indeed. A year and a month later, he was being branded with the Dark Mark. It hurt, but not any more than Lily's scorn. He still loved her.

--

Severus was pleeding for Lily's life as though it was his own, Voldemort above him, laughing. Severus claimed only they could use her, torture her, all the time praying for her safe escape, for the thought of using Crucio on Lily was unbearable. Voldemort above him, laughing, all the time laughing. "You could come, Severus," he hissed. "Help me with the job. I'm sure she would be absolutely delighted to see you, of course. Her savior. You will watch her son die. We shall then return here and, as you say, use her. I doubt she'll be much use, but nonetheless." His smile twisted and he left the room, robes flying about him.

Severus could see in his mind the green death, Avada Kedavra! reflecting in her eyes, her green eyes, and her red hair the fire in her soul, and her laugh, her laugh that could conquer death. But, he thought, her son is dying tonight. She will not laugh. She will not conquer death.