Better Late Than Never

James thought, personally, that he should be commended for his ability to not draw his wand and hex Snape to the deepest pit in hell. What the bloody hell was Dumbledore thinking, bringing a Death Eater into Order HQ? Was he trying to get them all killed?

James could only imagine what kind of target he and his family had on their backs now that they’re known for killing Voldemort. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

“What are you doing here?” James spat, eyes narrowed into slits. He gripped his wand in his pocket.

Snape, on the other side of the room, had the gall to refuse eye contact with James. His eyes were instead focused solely on Lily, the oily black holes sunken into his face shimmered faintly with relief. His hair was matted grossly against waxen cheeks, and he seemed to be sweating profusely. His hand did not even twitch toward his wand.

“Answer the question,” Lily said lowly, her eyes focused on the wall above his head. Her hand reached out to grip James’, twining their fingers together.

“I’m here because Dumbledore invited me,” Snape replied, a flicker of something indescribable passing across his gaunt face.

“I believe invited is a strong word for it, Severus.” Dumbledore’s disdain was palpable. “Please put your wand away, James. Now is not the time for violence when there is so much to celebrate.”

James grudgingly obliged, but pulled Lily and Harry closer to him. He knew Lily would give him hell for making her out to be weak later, but he needed to feel as if he were doing something.

“Why is he here?” James asked again, directing the question toward Dumbledore.

“I believe the best way to explain this situation is to show, rather than tell,” Dumbledore said evasively, turning and reaching for something in a cupboard. “Am I wrong to assume that you and Lily are familiar with a Pensieve, James?” Dumbledore lithely pulled out a metal dish from a stone basin, guiding it to hover in the center of the room.

“We’ve both used one once or twice,” Lily said, peering curiously into the dish. It was filled with shimmering liquid that appeared to be something a bit denser than water, silvery strands of memory floating and intertwining before separating again. James’ only experience with a Pensieve was during Christmas break in his sixth year, where his parents disagreed on who knocked over the tree their first Christmas together (it was his father, Charlus,) and had forced James to watch their respective memories of it and decide who was right. Thinking back on it, he realized it was a rather negative experience with a Pensieve. He had refused to use one since.

“Severus, the bottle, please.” Snape looked reluctant, but did as he was told. James wondered if it was possible for a person to sweat so much.

Snape handed over a bottle filled with a shimmery silver liquid and Dumbledore uncorked it, tilting it slightly and watching the oddly vaporous solution fall into the Pensieve. When they hit, the bright colors turned black, tainted and swirling angrily around other happy memories.

“Who would like to go first?” Dumbledore asked. Lily beat James to his answer.

“I will,” she said, her expression inscrutable. She handed Harry over to James and stepped up to the dish.

****

To be quite honest, Lily wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to delve deep into Severus’ memories. It had taken her too long to make peace with the path he was heading down, and to reconcile the boy she knew with the person in front of her—the one who purposely inflicted pain on those he perceived as different for pure enjoyment—was far too difficult. She had resigned herself to cutting Severus completely out of her life, especially now that she had a child, and she was at peace with that. Despite a life full of turmoil and fear and near-death experiences, Lily had found exactly what she needed.

She had the extremely terrible feeling in her stomach that Severus’ memories were going to ruin it all. She’d been good at potions and charms for a reason—life was easier when all your boxes were checked.

Taking a deep breath, Lily glanced at James. He gave her a quick wink and a reassuring smile, taking Harry’s tiny little fist and waving it at her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Then she dove in.

***

Lily was hit first by an insanely familiar memory, except from a completely different perspective. She was standing beside a child Severus and watching herself and Petunia on a swing set.

“Lily don’t do it!” The younger version of Petunia had shouted to Lily. Lily could almost feel it, the sunlight washing over her in that memory, and watched the younger version of her let go of the swing and float to the ground, much slower than she should have. Lily remembered that day with painful clarity. She remembered every single instance of magic and Petunia because they never coalesced.

The memory shifted then, and she was standing beside Severus as he watched her get Sorted. From her own perspective, she remembered her galloping heartbeat, her mind torn between wanting to be placed in Slytherin with Severus and wanting to know, genuinely, where she belonged. Lily remembered thinking this would be the only time she would truly know where she belonged.

“Gryffindor!” The Sorting Hat shouted, and though Lily remembered her own joy, she felt Severus’ devastation.

The scene switched again, to Dumbledore’s office. Severus didn’t look much different than he did now, and Lily realized with a pang in her chest that this must’ve only been weeks ago.

“The Dark Lord…. He thinks… he thinks the prophecy…he thinks it means Lily… and I told it to him… my fault…” Severus choked out, tears trailing down his sallow cheeks. He was on his knees before Dumbledore’s desk.

Dumbledore looked down on him, disdainful. “I believe the prophecy called for a boy, Severus, not Lily Evans.”

“Her son!” Severus exploded, and Lily flinched backward. “He wants the boy… he’s going to kill them all!”

“So why don’t you simply ask Voldemort, if he trusts you as you say he does, to spare her in exchange for her husband and the boy?”

Rage flamed in Lily so absolutely that it felt as if tongues of fire were licking the blood in her veins, drying it up, replacing it with something much, much, more terrible. Kill James and Harry and leave her alive? And as some kind of plaything for Severus? Over her dead body. Over his dead body.

“I did…I did ask…” Lily wished she could actively become part of the memory and pummel Severus into a pulp. It was the least she could do without her wand.

“You disgust me,” Dumbledore said, and turned away. It was the worst kind of snub she could imagine coming from him, and she was overjoyed to see that Severus was receiving it.

“Please… please protect her… protect them all, I don’t care… just make sure she lives!” Lily could not bear to look at Severus’ face.

“How do I know that what you say is true, Severus? How do I know that you have truly come to my side?” Shadow covered Dumbledore’s eyes, hiding whatever intentions he may have had.

Severus stood up then, his eyes glinting fiercely. He bellowed out “Expecto Patronum!” and what Lily saw was the last thing she possibly expected.

Sprouting from the tip of Severus’ wand was a graceful doe, prancing around the room and shedding light in every shadow.

It was a Patronus identical to her own.

Every thought in Lily’s head was scrambled. Time froze so intensely she could have sworn that she saw it crystallizing before her. Identical Patronuses meant one thing… could only mean one thing…

“After all this time?” Dumbledore asked, stealing the words from Lily’s mouth and rephrasing them, slightly stricken with awe.

Severus gritted his yellowing teeth. “Always.”

The scene changed again and Lily wasn’t ready for it. She saw Severus nervously looking over his shoulder, two wands in his hands. A musty calendar on a desk beside him proclaimed the date to be October 31st, 1981.

This was only last night!

One wand she recognized to be Severus’, but the other was unfamiliar. Lily felt the anxiety and nervousness though she knew that she had nothing to fear. This wasn’t happening to her. She wasn’t there.

Lily watched as Severus performed some kind of enchantment, the words hushed and unintelligible, over the foreign wand. White sparks flew out of the end, and she saw Severus take it as some kind of success.

Then she watched Severus hand the wand over to Voldemort.

When she was released from the Pensieve, the staggering weight of what she had just seen collapsed her to the floor.