Of Elves and Earthsong
Severus was lying under his and Lily’s tree, wondering how everything could have gone so wrong - how he could have let that word slip from his lips. He’d pushed her away, and straight towards James Potter, that slimy git who’d had her in his sights as a prize from the start.
When he rolled onto his side to stand and return home, the sky was dusky pink. It was a warm summer evening, at odds with his frosty mood.
He turned on his heel, intending to melt into the shadows alongside the high brick wall. The world lurched. When the landscape rematerialised around him, it was unfamiliar.
Severus tensed and reached for his wand. The dirty street had gone; no houses marred the rolling grass and wildflowers ahead of him. An ancient-looking forest marched to his left, stretching further than he could discern in the fading light.
He gripped the handle of his wand and turned slowly back around. The tree was still there.
“What?” He muttered in bewilderment. “But that looks - “
“Old,” Lily said. “Sev, our tree. It’s older.”
He gasped, momentarily forgetting the mystery; his chest filled with a bubble of elation. “Lily! You’re -”
“Still pissed at you.”
“Lily - where are we?” He breathed.
“I don’t know. Either in a different time, or in a different world altogether - although I would swear this is the same tree. She feels like ours.”
“But where are the houses?”
“Who cares?” Lily asked bitterly, lifting her hand to flick red hair from her eyes. Severus caught her wrist and frowned at the new sliver of silver near her elbow. “It was an accident,” she said. “Petunia knocked into me and I fell onto dad’s tool box. He’s been trying to hang a new door.”
“And she absolutely didn’t mean to,” Severus said flatly, dropping Lily’s wrist. “Like my dad didn’t mean to throw me against the bookshelf hard enough to crack ribs last summer.”
Lily’s mouth turned down.
Three hours later, the stars were out, and the houses remained conspicuous in their absence. The lack of light meant the constellations twinkled brightly above them. Neither of them had said any of what was hanging heavily between them, but they had traded theories about this new world they had been dropped in, ranging from plausible to frankly ridiculous.
“Doesn’t the wind in our tree sound like music?” Lily asked dreamily, pillowing her head on her hands and lying back with a sigh.
Severus mirrored her and listened; there was, indeed, an unearthly, lyrical quality to the whispering of the leaves.
He hummed a little, finding a pattern amidst the rustles, and thought distractedly that there shouldn’t be one, if this was a normal wind through a normal tree. But he pushed that notion aside, focusing on the redhead beside him and singing lowly of sorrow and regret.
Lily rolled onto her side and watched him, eyes bright with curiosity. She sang back - of forgiveness, and second chances, but also a warning. She wouldn’t accept a repeat.
They sang to sunrise, with dry throats and full hearts. Severus thought that they might have fallen into a Tolkein story. He might be a fool of a Took, and Lily a beautiful elf, making music together in a landscape described in pages rather than sentences.