Chapter Text
Severus loomed in the doorway of the Potter’s nursery. His breaths came in ragged intervals partially from haste, and partially from the shock of the scene before him.
The room was wrecked.
In truth, the whole house had been wrecked. Furniture was smashed, windows were broken, and James' body lay abandoned in the hall. He couldn’t care less about James. Severus advanced to the woman laying motionless in front of the crib on the right corner of the room.
He meant to kneel, but the ground came faster than expected. His knees crashed against the floor, pain shooting up his thighs. He didn’t care. His hand was steady as he brushed aside the long fiery strands of Lily’s hair. Severus jerked his hand back as if burned. He closed his eyes, steeling himself. Get a grip. He told himself.
He opened his eyes, only to meet Lily’s pleading ones. His breath faltered. He loved her eyes. They were the most beautiful and unique pools of green, and when the sun hit just right, blue flecks would shine through. He loved her eyes, but now they looked wrong. They were cold and glazed over. An expression of pleading fear permanently set on one of the bravest women he had the pleasure of knowing.
Severus gathered Lily into his arms. She was cold and stiff, something so foreign. The acrid scent of iron invaded his senses, along with the metallic sense of fading magic, but underneath it all was the scent of asphodel. How fitting.
He couldn’t contain his grief any longer. The pain in his chest twisted and gnawed as tears began to trickle down his pale cheeks. Lightning struck, illuminating the room in a moment of horror. With it, came the thunder, shaking the house and scaring the children.
He didn’t know how long he held Lily, but he could no longer block out the crying coming from the two cribs. He stood, dusting off his black robes. The time for outward displays was over, and with honed skills, he set his face into a stern and assessing frown.
The crib on the right held the first born Potter. The boy was the spitting image of James. Severus sneered at the infant, as if he had personally offended him. He looked closer, and noted, he had Lily’s eyes. An unreasonable amount of anger swelled inside him. This was the first time he was seeing Harry, but he already loathed him.
Severus' gaze shifted to the lightning shaped wound on the boy's forehead, no doubt a mark left from Voldemort. He held his hand just above the mark, feeling the trace of a lingering magic. It was dark and wrong. This magic did not fit well with the magic already inside Harry. Eventually, this would become a problem, but for now, he didn’t care.
Severus moved to the left side of the room where the second crib was pushed against the wall. Inside was the first born Snape. The child was undoubtedly Lily’s, but she did not have James’ hazel eyes. Severus stared into pitch black mirrors. Lily had broken his heart three times. Once when she left him for James. Once, tonight, when she left him for good. And once, when he thought for a fleeting moment, he had won her back.
It was a moment after Lily and James had fought. About him no less. Lily was insistent that he and James make up. Lily was ready to forgive, and Severus was ready to apologize, but James would not let it go that easily. Mudblood. The words had come out in the heat of the moment. An impulse. A stupid whim when his brain was muddled by his loathsome emotions. Why was it always emotions?
Lily had come to him, tears streaking her face. She had stormed into his house, screaming and cursing like the force of nature he loved her to be. She was angry at James and angry at Severus. Severus just watched and waited with a calculating gaze. When the storm finally broke, the rest was a blur.
Two weeks later, Severus received an owl from Dumbledore saying Lily and James were going into hiding. One week after that, an owl came from Lily. She was pregnant. For nine months, Severus received no further information about Lily or the child, but all the while, he was planning. The last thing he wanted was to ruin Lily’s life by estranging her from James. He hated the man, but Lily loved him.
Severus was writing a letter to Dumbledore about the signs of an upcoming war, when an owl came through his window. It carried a letter from the Potter family, stating that they had a healthy baby girl with a head full of fiery hair and black eyes. Her name was Hyacinth Lily Potter. Inside was a small two by three inch picture of the girl. She was staring at the camera with a scrutinizing gaze, as if assessing whether or not a picture was worth her time.
Not long after Hyacinths birth, Severus learned that Lily was expecting again. He would have though Lily would only want a single child, given her personal experience with being a sibling, but Lily was always exceeding his expectations
Now, as Severus stands above her, he has become the object of her scrutiny. Hyacinth, deciding she wanted to inspect Severus further, reached out her small hand, and grasped at him. He lowered his hand towards her, allowing the child to take his finger. She let out a contented sound, an odd contrast to the severity of the situation. His heart ached. Severus removed his hand from the girl's grip, using more effort than he thought would be necessary. He didn’t want to leave her, but he was not a father. Besides, he couldn’t take Hyacinth and leave Harry, could he. Could he? Severus glanced at the boy in the other crib, his glassy green eyes boring holes into his unshielded heart. No. He would not split them. It is not what they need, and it is not what Lily would want.
He looked back to Hyacinth, his daughter, and prepared to turn his back for the second time. Before he did, he conjured a silver ring. Cresting the simple piece was a purple Hyacinth, and her name was engraved on the inside. He held the ring and studied the words Hyacinth Lily Potter. His mouth drew into a tight line. With the tip of his wand, he conjured a small flame and heated the ring. Ever so slightly, the word potter was replaced with Snape. The corner of his mouth ticked up as he was satisfied.
He conjured a silver chain to store the ring until she grew big enough to wear it. As he looked at the ring, he conjured a charm to accompany it. The charm was the image of a snake poised to attack. This would suffice. In the chain, he wove luck. In the charm, he wove protection. And in the ring, he wove his love, so that whenever she wore it, he could always find her. The last of the three objects were undoubtedly the most powerful. If love can save Harry from the death curse, it can save Hyacinth from whatever the future might bring. He placed the chain around the girl's neck, the charm and ring brushing the mattress. She would grow into it.
“You will live.” Severus said, the words coming out more as a command than anything, “and I shall await your return.” Severus did not engage the girl again. Instead, he turned sharply on his heels and left the house.
He waited in an alley, just outside the ward's reach, but close enough to observe the house. He watched as Dumbledore apparated in front of the ruined home, the air shifting with a crack. Not long after, the air was filled with the sounds of apparitions. Hyacinth was safe and would soon be relocated with her brother to the next of kin. This was an acceptable outcome. The air cracked one more time. Where Severus once stood, now there was only empty space.