Snape, Do You Really Love Lily?(1)
Once, he had considered the dark, damp confines of his basement office his home. The only warmth he'd known came from the constant flicker of the cauldron's flames.
Now, as he slowly regained his senses, Snape began to take in his surroundings, and he was startled to realize he was in his childhood home—Spinner's End. But something was different.
He swore it had never been this bright or this warm. The place felt both familiar and strange. The layout of the house remained the same, yet there were changes. The most obvious difference was how clean everything was—almost unnaturally clean.
Snape found himself sitting at the dining table. In front of him was a simple breakfast of fried eggs and bacon. Opposite him sat another plate, though it wasn't his own. Snape frowned, confused. He had lived alone for so long. Why was there another setting?
Footsteps echoed from the kitchen, and a figure emerged. Snape's eyes widened, and his pupils contracted in shock.
"Severus, don't wait for me to eat. You have something to take care of later, don't you?" The voice was familiar, achingly so.
Snape stared at the figure standing before him, stunned into silence. It was Lily, the very person who had haunted his dreams countless times. She looked as vibrant as ever.
"You..." Snape began, his voice trembling.
"Severus," Lily interrupted, her tone serious but soft. "I think we need to talk. Can't you stop associating with those people? We could start a potions workshop together. Wouldn't that be something?"
Snape gazed at her, tears welling up in his eyes. His emotions, usually locked away beneath layers of stoicism, overwhelmed him.
"Lily... I've missed you so much. Truly, I... I can't believe you're here."
Lily, sensing his distress, put down the plate she was holding and moved closer. "What's wrong with you, Severus? You seem... off today."
Snape froze at her touch, the familiar scent of lilies flooding his senses. It was a fragrance he had long associated with his dreams. But this was no dream—it felt too real. He couldn't comprehend what was happening.
"Maybe now isn't the right time for this conversation," Lily said softly, disappointment flashing across her face.
Snape barely registered her words. The woman he had yearned for, day and night, stood before him, alive and whole. His mind couldn't process anything beyond her presence. It felt as though the very ability to think had abandoned him.
"Since you're not up for talking right now, I'll leave for now," Lily continued, grabbing her coat. "You always do this, Severus. Every week I come to visit, and you let yourself live in such a mess. If I didn't show up, would you ever think to clean up?"
She placed the breakfast in front of him. "You should eat this. You've got an appetite, after all."
With that, Lily walked toward the door. Snape shot up from his chair, his voice frantic. "Lily, wait—"
She turned, a look of mild concern on her face. "What's going on, Severus? You're not acting like yourself today."
"I just... I..." Snape stammered, unable to find the words.
Lily sighed, exasperated. "You'll be fine, Severus. Just... take care of yourself."
Before Snape could stop her, Lily vanished with a quiet pop—the sound of Apparition echoing faintly in the room. He stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty doorway, his mind racing with confusion.
"What... what's happening?" Snape whispered to himself, his heart pounding in his chest.
He stepped outside, glancing down the street, which was as empty and silent as ever. "She's... she's not... she's not supposed to be alive," he muttered. But just as the thought crossed his mind, a sharp pain stabbed through his head, and memories—both familiar and foreign—flooded his mind.
"I called her... a Mudblood," Snape whispered to himself, horrified as the memories resurfaced. "And... didn't she marry Potter?"
But as these memories intertwined with the present, something felt off. In this strange recollection, Lily had rejected Potter's advances. Instead of the heartbreak that usually followed such memories, Snape felt a bizarre sense of comfort—satisfaction, even. It was as though something in this world had shifted in his favor.
Staggering back into his bedroom, Snape caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The reflection that stared back wasn't the worn, hollow face he had grown accustomed to.
Instead, a younger version of himself, vibrant and full of life, gazed back. He was... younger. His heart raced as he realized he had somehow returned to his youth, just after he and Lily had graduated from Hogwarts.
The rush of this new reality filled him with confusion. Sorting through the freshly implanted memories, Snape's smile slowly faded. Though Lily hadn't broken off their friendship due to his association with his "friends," she was still staunchly against his involvement with the Death Eaters.
Snape's heart sank as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, the sinister emblem of his allegiance to Voldemort.
In this world, he had already made the dreadful choice to join the Death Eaters—and he hadn't told Lily.
Panic surged through him. If Lily ever found out, she would never forgive him.
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his arm. His body tensed, and his pupils narrowed. That familiar, ominous sensation...
The Dark Lord was calling him.
Gritting his teeth, Snape had no choice but to obey. Without hesitation, he Apparated to the designated meeting point.
When he arrived, many of the Death Eaters had already gathered, standing in a large circle. Voldemort stood at the center, his eyes glinting with malevolent delight as he surveyed his followers. Snape instinctively took his place at the outer edge of the group, his eyes scanning the familiar faces—Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Avery, and others.
"Everyone is here," Voldemort began, his voice a low, menacing drawl. "Good. I am pleased to see that there are no deserters among us today."
Snape felt his stomach churn at the Dark Lord's words.
"I have called you all here for one reason," Voldemort continued. "Dumbledore, that meddling old fool, has decided to form a resistance against us—without the Ministry's support, no less! How amusing."
A ripple of laughter spread through the gathered Death Eaters. But Snape's mind was elsewhere, the gravity of the situation sinking in. He was now, once again, part of this world of darkness.
"The group Dumbledore has assembled," Voldemort sneered, "is nothing more than a ragtag team of greenhorns fresh out of school and washed-up Aurors nearing retirement. Pathetic, really."
The crowd erupted in mocking laughter. Snape's heart felt heavy, weighed down by conflicting emotions. This world felt so familiar, yet the decisions he had made here were ones he wished he could undo.
"We will show them what real power looks like," Voldemort declared, his voice cold and ruthless. "And we will remind the world that no one—no one—can stand in our way."
And just like that, Snape found himself swept into a battle he had no choice but to partake in, surrounded by darkness he had once sworn to forsake.
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