Snape

He stood by himself, watching as the mourners filed by the caskets to pay their last respects to the dead. The late autumn sky was an angry grey, and leaves skittered over the cobblestones of the graveyard at Godric's Hollow. He imagined that nature itself was grieving--everyone else seemed to be. A sardonic smile appeared as he watched a young man with already-graying hair approach the caskets.

Remus Lupin reached in and put something on James's chest, trying not to recoil when he touched the young man's cold, stiff hand. Mildly curious, Severus watched. Remus, hand trembling, smoothed the hair out of his friend's eyes and let his fingers rest on James's cheek for a moment before a spasm seemed to tear through his body and he lurched away from the casket, blindly stumbling to a seat.

Severus's lip curled. So, Potter, your dear friend weeps for you. What about your other dearest friend, the one you called "brother"? A gust of wind blew his greasy tangles away from his face, and he glanced up. The sky was the color of Sirius Black's eyes, and seemed to watch him accusingly. He sneered up at it, pulling his cloak more tightly around his angular frame. Not enjoying Azkaban? What a pity.

Someone touched his shoulder, and he turned, surprised, to see Albus Dumbledore. "Hello, Severus," the old man said softly, but his voice was hard. Snape inclined his head. "Dumbledore."

"They are waiting," Dumbledore said just as softly. Snape nodded stiffly, then made his way up to the front.

He saw Remus's shocked look as the latter glanced up with reddened eyes to see James Potter's greatest nemesis, the "greasy git" from their Hogwarts days, approach the caskets. Snape ignored him, holding his head high. It was on Dumbledore's orders that he was here, and he would hold on to the man's trust at any price.

Or perhaps you wanted to come, wanted to see James Potter finally beaten, finally destroyed...

Severus was barely aware of the vicious thought. He was staring down into the lifeless face of Lily Evans-Potter.

"Lily, take Harry and run! I'll--"

Muffled sounds from inside the house, as Severus, shoved roughly forward by several fellow Death Eaters,watched the Dark Lord, Voldemort, destroy the door of the cottage with a single spell.

James Potter's voice from inside the hall. Voldemort's high, cruel laughter as he ripped the life from the one person Severus hated most in the world besides Sirius Black, or thought he did. Nausea rushed through Snape as he heard the thud of a body.

Bellatrix Black's eyes were alight with fervor as she pushed past him to gain a better view of the house. Severus barely saw her. He heard the screaming of a woman from inside.

No...the boy only, kill the boy...

"Stand aside!"

"NO! Not Harry, please not Harry..."

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light lit up the windows. Severus felt pain lance through his stomach as her scream was cut off. He wanted to cover his ears, wanted more than anything to go deaf in the silence before the sickening thud reached him. Voldemort was still laughing. Somewhere, Severus could hear a baby crying, and a hatred unlike anything he had ever known coursed through him.

Then Voldemort cast the Killing Curse and Severus's world went black.

They had found him, curled up on the ground with a white-hot wound on his left forearm, the next morning. He had looked up into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore and prepared for death; even though he had told Dumbledore the truth--that he had informed Voldemort of the prophecy--he had still been present at the murder of the Potters. He had closed his eyes and waited for the end.

Dumbledore, in Severus's opinion, was the greatest wizard to ever exist. The old man had pulled him to his feet and embraced him, then offered him transportation back to Hogwarts, where he had remained in the infirmary for a day and a half. During this time, he had been told of the fate of tiny Harry Potter, who had become the first wizard in existence to survive the Killing Curse.

Looking down into the lovely face of Lily, Snape found it ironic that her son, for whom she had died, was not at her funeral. Most likely his horrible Muggle relatives were rejoicing the fact--Lily had complained to him more than once about her sister, whom, Severus noted, was not at the funeral.

He almost jumped as he saw that she had a tear on her cheek, and realized that it had begun to rain very lightly. Severus gazed at her for a moment longer, then tore his gaze away and moved to James's casket.

James Potter.

"Hey, what's your name? I'm James."

The small, dark-haired boy glanced up, surprised that anyone was talking to him. "I'm S-Severus. Severus Snape."

"Severus? Brilliant name, eh, Sirius?" The boy grinned cheekily at him, his dark hair a wild mop above his glasses. A second boy had entered the compartment; he looked older than James, although from his unmarked robes, he was evidently a first-year as well. Severus gaped at him.

"What're you staring at?" Sirius demanded. Severus began to apologize nervously, but Sirius cut him off, laughing. "Sorry, didn't mean it, mate. What House you going for, then?"

"I don't know...Slytherin, I suppose."

Sirius made a face. "Slytherin...bloody scumbags, that's what they are."

Severus frowned. Should he agree with Sirius, or should he defend his own views? "I don't know, I--"

"I'M hoping for Gryffindor, myself," James remarked loudly, looking up from the Quidditch magazine he had found on the seat. "I've heard Slytherin is a bunch of Dark Arts and stuff, don't want to be mixed up in that."

"Why not?" Severus asked curiously. His mum had always told him that there were two sides to everything. "You can learn defense, and--"

"Are you JOKING?" Sirius said rather harshly. James looked at him worriedly. "Um, Sirius," he began, but Sirius cut him off.

"No one in their right mind would want to be associated with the Dark Arts," he said, his grey eyes daring the smaller boy to disagree with him.

"Sorry, mate, he's just had a row with his mum," James said, but Severus ignored him.

"Why not?" Severus's eyes darkened. "It's not like your family is anything BUT Dark Arts."

James stared at him, glancing at Sirius. Sirius looked like he was about to start laughing. "You know nothing about my family," he hissed instead. "C'mon, James, let's get out of here."

Severus watched, half-angry, half-mystified, as Sirius Black dragged James Potter out of the compartment, the latter giving him an apologetic smile as he left. What had he, Severus, ever done to the heir to the Black estate? He had thought Sirius Black would be someone he would befriend--after all, they would likely end up in Slytherin together--but evidently he was dead wrong. He turned and gloomily watched the scenery as the Hogwarts Express sped across the rainy moorland.

Severus looked at his nemesis's peaceful face, and wondered if, somewhere, James could feel the wind gusting through his hair and nearly tearing the fabric of his dress robes. He was aware of Remus's eyes on him, but steadfastly ignored the Marauder.

"Hey, Sevus? Is that right?" Sirius Black grinned at him.

"It's 'Severus'," he replied, the words coming out much more coldly than he had meant them to. He tried to think of something else to say, but trying to gauge the expression on Sirius's face at the same time proved impossible. Severus wasn't sure if the boy was angry or not, and didn't want to say anything more until he got a reaction out of Sirius. Severus had learned the hard way with his father.

Sirius frowned. "Sorry, mate, I just wanted to say about yesterday--"

Severus stiffened. "I understand; you didn't want to talk to a Slytherin, right?"

"No, I didn't want to talk to a Dark Arts lover. My family is far too into that rubbish. My mum, you should hear the screeching..."

Severus laughed shakily. "Right."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You going to Muggle Studies after this?"

Severus, trying to impress what he hoped was a new friend--it wasn't often that people, least of all popular kids like Sirius, spoke with him--snorted. "That rubbish? Why would we want to learn about Muggles and Mudbloods?"

Sirius really did frown this time. Severus hesitated. "You're--you are pureblood, aren't you?"

"Of course," the other boy said dismissively. "That doesn't mean I hate Muggleborns."

"No," Severus stammered eagerly, "but you don't like blood-traitors, do you? I mean, your family..."

"I don't care what my family thinks," Sirius said coldly, reaching for his wand; he did it so casually that Severus realized that Sirius had been using a wand for a very long time. "My best friend is one of those 'blood-traitors', Snape, and I'll thank you not to speak badly of him."

"It's Severus," the other said for the second time, "and I--I don't think your family would...approve of you being friends with blood-traitors." He didn't mean it to sound so accusatory, but Sirius's eyes darkened.

"I don't bloody care what you think, Slytherin." He spat the word. "I suppose you're one of those 'purify-the-wizarding-world' people, then?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked off.

Severus stared after him. For the first time in many years, he had attempted to give his opinion, but had failed once again. He withdrew into himself, not speaking to anyone at lunch or do anything but stare at the Potions assignment in his hands. For the first time, he noticed how greasy his hair was compared to the other students', and how shabby his robes were, and bowed his head in shame. No wonder the Gryffindor boys disliked him.

Snape stared at the tiny raindrops that were beginning to collect on James's upturned glasses, idly wondering why the funeral workers had left them on the deceased. He felt a flare of anger remembering the unintentional comment on the other's part that had led to a lifelong feud.

"And then he started talking about mudbloods and how I shouldn't be friends with a blood-traitor!" Sirius's voice said loudly. Severus stopped dead, hearing the four boys approaching from the opposite corridor.

Remus's worried voice said, rather quietly, "Are you sure you weren't in a bad mood when you were talking to him, Sirius?"

An oath, then, "Sorry...no, I don't think so...er...maybe..."

James's voice: "Well, don't waste any more time on him, I don't think he's going to come around. He's a Slytherin, anyway. Probably half-blood and too afraid to show it, going on about all this pureblood nonsense." He laughed, and Severus felt his blood boiling. He'd show these Gryffindor prats what was what. Rounding the corner, he shouted a hex he had learned at home, when his mother wanted to punish her good-for-nothing husband. James yelled as painful dark welts appeared on his face, and Sirius, cursing, took off after Severus, who turned and ran.

He realized his mistake too late; in the heat of the moment, he had made four enemies, and lost any chance of friends at Hogwarts, or so he thought.

Snape took a deep breath as he stepped away from James's casket. He turned and met Remus's eyes, and nodded sharply to the werewolf. Remus tried to smile, but their animosity was amplified greatly by what Snape knew Remus suspected: Snape's role in Remus's best friends' deaths.

How wrong you are, Lupin, and yet how right...

And for the first time since he had heard the prophecy from Sibyll Trelawney, Severus felt the sick feeling of guilt. He had to walk past Lily's casket to make his way back to his seat, and could not bring himself to look at her.