The dungeon was cold, as it always was—humid stone walls, the faint scent of brewing potions, and the quiet hiss of the fire in the cauldron. Severus Snape sat at his desk, his face a study of deep concentration as his long, bony fingers carefully measured ingredients into a vial. Each step was deliberate, measured, as if his life depended on the perfect execution of this potion.
Tonight, however, the potion was not for the students or for any other practical use. This was personal. A mistake, perhaps, but a desperate one. It was a brew that allowed one to relive a single memory—a specific moment, sharp and unyielding. He had been brewing this potion in secret for weeks, unwilling to share it with anyone. A potion of remembrance. A potion to bring him closer to her again.
The door creaked open behind him, the soft sound of footsteps echoing in the stone room. Severus didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He hadn’t been visited by her in years, and yet, in this moment, her presence was undeniable.
"Still chasing ghosts, Severus?"
Her voice—soft, warm, familiar—touched him like a physical blow, and his heart, ever guarded, jolted painfully in his chest. He didn’t look up. He couldn’t. Not yet.
“You’re not real,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as if he’d been holding back a flood of words for years. “This is just a figment of my imagination. Some leftover delusion.”
"Is it, Severus?" The voice came again, gentle but piercing, as Lily Evans stepped into his dimly lit laboratory. Her form was glowing faintly, flickering like a candle flame, but there was no mistaking it. It was her. His Lily.
For a long moment, he couldn’t speak. He simply stared at her, his throat tightening painfully, as though the years of regret, guilt, and longing had all gathered in that one moment, threatening to drown him. It was as if he could reach out and touch her, as if she were truly standing in front of him.
“Lily,” he whispered, the name catching painfully in his throat. He hadn’t said it aloud in so long. He hadn’t dared.
She tilted her head slightly, her green eyes—so much like Harry’s—softening as they met his. "You’ve been trying so hard to bring me back," she said quietly, her voice filled with both compassion and sorrow. "Why, Severus?"
He finally stood up, his legs unsteady as though the weight of his years of regret had suddenly become too much to bear. He moved toward her, his hands trembling, and for a moment, he felt as though he could collapse beneath the strain of it all.
“I—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard. "I never got to say goodbye. Not properly. And when you… when you died, I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save any of you. I couldn't protect you.”
Lily’s ghostly figure flickered again, and her expression softened. "But you tried. You tried, Severus. Every day, you tried."
“No, no I didn’t,” he said, his voice breaking. "Not enough. Not when it mattered. I stood there, helpless, as you died. And I was the one who let him—" His voice faltered, but he forced the words out, feeling them tear through him like a knife. "I let James die, too."
Her gaze softened further, but there was sadness in it now, pity almost. "You think you failed them? You think you failed me?"
He clenched his fists at his sides, his breathing ragged. “I failed you both, Lily. And now… now all I have left is your memory.” His eyes flicked to the potion still simmering on the desk. “This,” he said bitterly, “is the only thing that can bring you back, even for a moment. A cruel mockery of what I truly want.”
Lily’s figure moved closer, her translucent hand reaching toward him, but it was as if she couldn’t truly touch him. The space between them felt infinite, like an insurmountable chasm. “What is it that you want, Severus? What are you hoping for?”
He closed his eyes, feeling the full weight of the question sink into him. "I want you to be alive again," he rasped. "I want you to tell me that you forgive me. That it wasn’t all for nothing.”
Her voice was soft, but firm, and it pierced through him with a tenderness that hurt more than he could stand. “Severus, I *forgave* you a long time ago. The moment you chose to protect my son, I forgave you.”
Snape recoiled as though she had slapped him. His breath hitched in his chest as his heart twisted painfully in his ribs. The thought of her forgiveness—it was something he had never truly believed he deserved, something he had pushed away, because it would make the pain of her death all the more unbearable. He was still haunted by her last words to him. “Always.”
But Lily’s eyes—those familiar, bright eyes—had always seen the best in him, even when he couldn’t see it in himself.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered, unable to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “I didn’t just lose you, Lily. I lost everything. My soul. My purpose. And all I have left… all I have left is this broken memory of you.”
Lily’s image flickered again, and this time it seemed almost as though she were fading, slipping away from him. “You haven’t lost everything, Severus,” she said softly. “You still have the boy. Harry. You *must* protect him.”
“But every time I look at him, I see *him*, Lily,” Snape choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I see James. His arrogance, his bravery… It drives me mad.”
“And yet you protect him.” Lily’s voice was soft, understanding. “You protect him because you see *me*, Severus. You always have.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how to live with this anymore,” he admitted, his voice raw with grief. “This pain is suffocating me.”
Lily stepped closer, her figure more solid now, and for a moment, it felt like he could reach out and hold her. He wanted to. He needed to.
“Let it go, Severus,” she whispered, her voice like a balm on his tortured soul. “Let go of the guilt, the shame. You’re not the boy you were. You’ve changed. You’ve done what you could.”
He reached out, his hand trembling, but the space between them was too great. He grasped at nothing, his chest aching with an emptiness he couldn’t fill. The pain of it all was too much, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse under the weight of his own sorrow.
But Lily’s voice echoed softly in the silence, the last thing he would ever hear from her.
“Always, Severus. Always.”
And then she was gone.
---
Snape stood there, frozen in the stillness of the empty room. The last echo of her words clung to him like a poison, and the pain of her absence—of everything he had lost—bore down on him harder than ever.
With shaking hands, he turned back to the potion, his reflection in the surface of the liquid rippling like a cruel reminder. He hadn’t saved her. He hadn’t saved anyone.
And now, all he had left were memories.
But even those were fading.