The Last Memory

Summary: His lips are inexperienced and rough, filled with so much emotion and vulnerability that he couldn't possibly convey in words. If anyone will understand them, Lily will.

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to one of my best friends, luvinfred7. I love you!

Please review and let me know what you think. Awaiting your opinions!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Her legs, which once dangled from the worn leather seat, now rest firmly planted on the ground. Her hands grip the rusted metal chains to keep from swinging, and her long, thick red hair hangs down her back. The playground is empty, a deserted air about it. The weeds threaten to swallow the once lively area and the trees have thrown thick and stubborn. The area once filled with children is now a place for old memories and forgotten friendships.

"Why are you with him?" He can't prevent the bitterness that fills his voice. He'd meant to be cautious and careful of any little thing that might send her away, but somehow his emotions threaten to overwhelm him. He wants to tell her how he feels, that she's making the wrong choice. This could, and probably will, be his last chance.

That is, if he messes this up.

"I love him." Her voice is hard and spares no feelings for the lanky, sullen black haired boy who lingers near the monkey bars. He ducks under the rusted metal equipment to avoid bumping his head and walks a few steps closer. He wants to sit on the other swing, maybe even closer than that, and hold her hand, tell her how he really feels. But he's scared of messing things up and offending her with his closeness.

Her words pierce him like a knife. He takes a deep breath and dares to contradict her.

"You don't, Lily. You can't." Her response is immediate, her emotions clear. Anger. She turns to face him.

"Yes, I can. I do." Her voice is defiant and loud, with an edge of satisfaction.

"Lily," His mouth lingers on her name, filled with an emotion that is unfamiliar to him. "Lily," He says it again, for the satisfaction of feeling the strange feeling again. "Please. Don't you remember?" When she doesn't reply, he takes the chance of taking a step closer. He's almost to the swing next to her now. "That…Potter," He says, with an obvious show of controlling his hatred towards the named boy, "has been messing with you…awful to you…to everyone!- for the past seven years. You don't see what I see, Lily. He's despicable to everyone but you. He's fooled you into- he's tricked you-,"

"Tricked me?" She says, with a glare at him. "You're determined to hate him, Snape. He's changed, and you haven't." She takes a deep breath. "You have to grow up." He flinches at the use of his surname.

"Snape?" He asks incredulously. "You call him James and me Snape?"

"Yes," She says defiantly, her green eyes- her beautiful, incredible, amazing green eyes- staring at him with dislike. "You've been nothing but horrid to me since fifth year. You've ignored me in front of all your little Death Eater friends and pretend you don't even know me." She frowns. "No," She decides. "That's been going on for longer than fifth year. You've always been ashamed of me."

"Ashamed?" He splutters. "No! No, I-," He takes a deep breath, calming himself. "Lily, please. I haven't- you told me you wanted nothing to do with me since fifth year!"

"Yes, and your actions have just reinforced the fact that I made the right decision two years ago," Lily tells him, and he winces. They sit in silence for a moment before he decides. It's now or never. If anything will change her mind…and he has to do it. He knows he'll regret it forever if he doesn't.

He kisses her.

His lips are inexperienced and rough, filled with so much emotion and vulnerability that he couldn't possibly convey in words. If anyone will understand them, Lily will.

She's stunned, at first, and he takes it as encouragement. It goes almost perfectly, just as he had imagined it. One hand runs through her beautiful red hair as the other falls almost immediately to her waist, pulling her to him. But as always, with him, it's too good to be true. A taunt of the one thing he wants more than anything that he can never have.

"Severus…" She gasps as she pulls back. He's deeply ashamed to feel that a lump that formed in his throat at the sound of his first name, and there's an unfamiliar prickling in his eyes.

She stands up, and her kind fingers can't stop themselves from brushing aside his dark curtains of hair. Her fingertips run, too lightly, over his square forehead, his heavy brows, his hooked nose and harsh jaw. But he knows there's no hope as he dares to meet her green eyes with his black ones.

"I love you," He says desperately, in a strained voice. It's his last hope.

"Don't, Sev…" She whispers, her face anxious. "We can't. You're a Death Eater." He doesn't deny it, but curses himself for it. Lily is worth so much more than that.

"I'm sorry," He rasps futilely, his throat parched.

"I have to go, Sev," She says softly, her eyes beseeching him to understand. He does, but he doesn't want to.

"If…if Potter hurts you…" He averts his eyes from hers. "I'll kill him."

"He won't, Sev. I love him." Her words break him into pieces, rip his fleeting happiness into a million shreds.

"I love you," He repeats, hoping with the last bit of light in his life that she'll say it to him. She doesn't, of course.

He sees now, that his plan, the perfectly played out in his head scene, could never have occurred here. There was a flaw. He hates Potter for it, his arrogantly unkempt hair and crooked smile and cruel, leering words. She loves him.

He'd always prided himself on his carefully kept up sneer and hidden emotions, but with Lily, she has a way of melting down his guard without even knowing it. Or maybe it's him who intentionally brings it down. Either way, he identifies the prickling in his eyes at tears. Tears that he refuses to show her. Tears are for fools with emotions that let love overcome their better judgment.

As the first one spills, he walks away. He will not return.

…

He is the same person, yet infinitely different. Wrinkles line his emotionless face as he emerges from the Pensieve. He knows the tension is building up, and the fighting is inevitable. It will happen soon.

It has been painful to rifle through his memories of her, determine the ones that the boy needs to kill the Dark Lord. His mind lingers on that one- is it necessary? He thinks of the other ones. It is hard enough to let the boy see the only remnants he has of the love of his love. He should add it the the collection, of course, but he can't stand the thought of Potter's son intruding on that memory. No, he will not add it. The idea that he loves Lily is reinforced enough through the numerous other memories. This memory is for himself, and himself, only.

He lets a rough, calloused finger stray to his lips. He's never kissed another person since Lily Evans that day. He still loves her. His whole life has been dedicated to her, and he hopes, wherever she is, she is watching. He hopes she has grown to love him. He's protected her son.

He loves Lily Evans. Forever.

…

Mere hours later, he dies to join her.

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