I Only Live For You
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Lily
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,360
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Lily
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,360
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Three
There are many memories, of course, that I did not pass on to Harry Potter, regarding his mother. I was terribly weak at the time, obviously, but my skills at manipulating my own memories had been drilled into me. I picked and chose, to a certain degree, what her son would see.
One of those moments that died with me was this:
A small rock hit my window.
It was Lily’s birthday, and Lily’s rock. I looked out the window to see her jumping up and down in our dusty front yard, waving a stack of parchment at me.
I pelted out of the house as fast as I could.
“You got it!” I yelled, as soon as I threw open the front door, “You got it!”
“I did!” she squealed, “I did! I got it! I got in, Sev, I got in! You were right!”
I reached her, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her around, as high as my thin, still small frame could manage.
I had gotten my letter on my eleventh birthday too, by owl, but Lily’s had come with a professor, McGonagall.
“She seemed nice, Sev,” Lily said, as we snuck a bit of birthday cake behind the bushes down by the river, “Strict, but nice.”
I always wondered how Minerva was always assigned to inform the intelligent muggle-born children. She delivered the letter to Hermione Granger as well, for example. The few times I was forced into that despicable chore, it seemed I had all of the children with devoutly religious families, or complete idiots who didn’t understand a word I said to them.
Here I am, digressing again.
But that was a small, golden instant in my mind, lifting Lily off of her feet in mutual, unfettered, pure joy.
I think of my life in such moments, the love shining through a cloud of hate at odd intervals.
One of those moments that died with me was this:
A small rock hit my window.
It was Lily’s birthday, and Lily’s rock. I looked out the window to see her jumping up and down in our dusty front yard, waving a stack of parchment at me.
I pelted out of the house as fast as I could.
“You got it!” I yelled, as soon as I threw open the front door, “You got it!”
“I did!” she squealed, “I did! I got it! I got in, Sev, I got in! You were right!”
I reached her, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her around, as high as my thin, still small frame could manage.
I had gotten my letter on my eleventh birthday too, by owl, but Lily’s had come with a professor, McGonagall.
“She seemed nice, Sev,” Lily said, as we snuck a bit of birthday cake behind the bushes down by the river, “Strict, but nice.”
I always wondered how Minerva was always assigned to inform the intelligent muggle-born children. She delivered the letter to Hermione Granger as well, for example. The few times I was forced into that despicable chore, it seemed I had all of the children with devoutly religious families, or complete idiots who didn’t understand a word I said to them.
Here I am, digressing again.
But that was a small, golden instant in my mind, lifting Lily off of her feet in mutual, unfettered, pure joy.
I think of my life in such moments, the love shining through a cloud of hate at odd intervals.