September 30, 1984

The journal of Severus Snape, M.H.:

It has been barely a month since my beloved flower Lily walked the starry road to the realm where shadows go, and I still feel her loss like a great noise in my head.  There is a large gaping hole in my heart, and not all my potions or my medical skill can mend it.  My heart shattered that day and I cannot find all the pieces.  I am reminded of that old Muggle nursery rhyme I learned as a child-Humpty Dumpty. "All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again".  My heart is like that, not all the well-meaning condolences and heartfelt wishes shall restore that half of my heart.  When Lily died, she took a part of me with her, and I know I shall never be whole again.

I do not know how I ever got through the funeral service or even the morning after she died, when I woke to find myself lying in the arms of a corpse.  She was still warm, however, but I knew instantly that she was dead, even without my Healer training.  There was a blank echo down the bond I had shared with her, and such could only occur when the bonded's partner is dead. 

I can remember grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, trying to deny the inevitable even as my mind informed me that she had slipped away and died peacefully in her sleep, a merciful death. "Lily! Lily! No . . .Lily, please . . .Come back! Come back to me!"  I can remember yelling that, I think, and trying to give her my magic, but it kept hitting a stone wall, for there was no longer a spirit to receive my power, only a husk, a shell of what had once been my vibrant beautiful love. 

Then I collapsed across her, my control utterly shattered, and sobbed as I had not done since my mother died, six years before.  I have no idea how long I wept, but it must not have been too long, because I heard Matthew calling me, asking me if everything was all right. 

I can't recall what I said, but my tone must have sounded off, because he came in the bedroom a moment later and knew in a glance what had happened. "Sev, I'm so damn sorry." He said, and his hazel eyes began to tear up.  "May Merlin and God keep her." He moved over and stared at her lifeless face, gently shutting her eyes and sealing them with a spell.  "Would you like me to pronounce her and fill out the death certificate, Sev?"

I nodded dully, not really caring anymore who did what.  My heart was torn apart and the only thing I was feeling right now was a strange sort of numbness.  Strangely, seeing Matthew's obvious grief enabled me to control my own, and I managed to wipe away my tears and shove the whimpering screaming part of myself away behind a cold wall of icy acceptance. 

You knew this was coming, Master Healer Snape, the logical part of my mind informed me.  This is not a shock, but a blessing.  She died peacefully, not in pain, and that is a very good thing.  She did not suffer at the end, I reminded myself, like some I had known in the past.

My mind leaped ahead, to the arrangements I would need to make, and to the other unpleasant task I had to perform-telling my small son that his mother was gone forever.  I panicked then, for I didn't have the faintest idea how the hell to break it to a four-year-old that his mother was dead and he could never see her or hold her or play with her ever again.  Harry had known loss before, when James was killed, but he had been too little to really understand what it meant that his father was dead, except that he never came home again. 

But this was different.  Harry had known that Lily was sick, during the last days of her convalescence he had assisted me with bringing her Nutrient potions and protein shakes for meals, since that was all she could keep down towards the end. I think he thought it a strange sort of diet, existing solely on potions and milkshakes.

He understood that his mother was quite ill, since she was always in bed, and sleeping for the most part, but he couldn't comprehend the seriousness of her condition, since he had routinely asked Lily or myself when his mummy would get better.  I had always put him off by saying "Maybe tomorrow." But now tomorrow would never come.

I ended up telephoning my mother-in-law first, giving her the awful news, and then asking in a polite sort of voice that I barely recognized as my own, "Vi, how shall I tell Harry about Lily?"

"Oh, Lord! The poor little lamb, now he's an orphan! Poor little baby!" She burst into noisy tears and I just stood there with the phone in my hand, unable to say anything.  A part of me wanted to protest that Harry still had one parent, even if I wasn't a biological one, but I knew she was too far gone in grief to comprehend what she had just said, and so I let it go. 

Hal got on the phone then, asking me what had happened. I told him and he too began to cry, and then he said he would be over as soon as possible and I hung up.  My mind was spinning and I felt as if I drifted through a fog, a cold thick mist that insulated me from those terrible emotional outbursts the others around me were indulging in.

I remember going into Harry's room, he was still asleep, sprawled across his little bed, tangled in the bedcovers, one hand clutching Inky, the other tucked beneath his pillow.  So innocent and so unaware that his world had suddenly changed forever, I thought sadly. 

I stood there watching him sleep for the longest time, he looked so fragile and so precious, no one would ever guess what an imp he was when he was awake.  How do I tell him? How? He's only a little boy, what does he know of death, damn it?

I ended up leaving, because I heard a knock at the door, and I knew Vi and Hal had arrived, and I needed to see to them. 

They were a wreck, as could be expected, for it is a terrible thing to have your child die untimely, before you, and though they had known this was coming, knowing and reality are not the same thing at all.  Nothing prepares you for the loss of a loved one, and especially not your own child.

Vi and Hal hugged me and cried all over me, and I could only hug them back and tell them I was sorry, I felt so awkward and inadequate and like little more than a puppet, going through the motions.  I kept telling myself, keep it together, Snape, you can do it. 

As it turned out, Harry woke up while I was comforting my in-laws, and went in to see Lily, the way he usually did every morning, and found his mother lying cold and still and unresponsive.  Matthew had gone back to St. Mungos to procure an official document, and Harry woke up afterwards, and discovered Lily on his own. 

Of course he came running to me, telling me that Lily was sleeping and wouldn't wake up.

"I called her and called her, Daddy, and she just kept sleeping." He said, his little face serious.  "Can you wake her up like you did last time, when she fell asleep in the middle of the kitchen?"

I looked down at my hands helplessly, then picked up my son and brought him back into his room.  I wanted privacy for this, and thank God my in-laws recognized this and did not intrude.

"How come we're in my room, Dad? Aren't you gonna wake up Mum?" Harry asked curiously.

I sat down and held him on my lap, then I said, "Harry . . .your mum . . .she can't . . .I can't wake her up . . ." I felt like my tongue was two sizes too large and every word I spoke was coming out garbled.

"How come? Is it ‘cause she's under a spell, like Sleeping Beauty?"

For once I blessed the Muggle fairy tales Lily had read to him, because it made what I had to say next a little easier.  "No, not really."

"Well, all you have to do is to kiss her and she'll wake up, Daddy.  Everybody knows that's how you break a spell like that." Harry informed me. 

I nearly smiled at his definitive tone.  "I know, son, but you see, your mother isn't under that kind of spell.  She can't wake up because she has gone away to . . . heaven like your other father James.  Do you remember that, Harry?"

"Uh . . .kind of." Then he looked up at me and said, "Can't you just tell her to come home, Dad? I don't like her going away without me."

I hugged him.  The fog that insulated me was slowly shredding beneath his puzzled green gaze, and I could feel the pain beginning to surface.  Not now! Hold it together, Snape, I ordered.  You can't fall apart now. 

"Oh, Harry.  If only I could do that, but . . .once you go to heaven you don't return."

"Not ever?"

"No, little one."

"But why'd she go there? I don't want her to go, Daddy!" Harry cried. "She's not s'posed to do that!"

"Harry, listen to me.  She was sick and . . .she had no choice.  But she loved you very much, son, remember that." I picked up Inky and held it out to him.  "Do you remember when she gave you Inky and told you she would always be with you, even when you couldn't see her?"

Harry sniffled and nodded.  "Yeah."

"Well, this is what she meant, Harry.  She gave you Inky so you wouldn't get so lonely and miss her, son." I knew it was cold comfort, but I didn't know what else to say, I was all torn up myself over her loss.

"But I do miss her, Dad!"  Harry said, then he burst into tears and buried his head in Inky's fur. 

I held him close and rocked him, nearly losing it myself.  Lily, Lily, how will we go on without you?  I wondered then, as my son sobbed heartbrokenly into my shirt.

But somehow we did manage, don't ask me how.  The funeral was horrid, I had to take Harry home after I did the eulogy, he was hysterical, and put him to sleep with a Calming Draught.  I wasn't much better myself, to tell the truth, and I dosed myself as well before falling asleep in a chair next to his bed. 

Ever since Lily's death, I had been unable to sleep in my bed.  She had died there, and even though Matthew had sterilized it and all, I could not sleep there.  I slept on the couch most nights, transfigured into a bed.  I knew it was just ridiculous superstition, but I felt as if Lily were still there, in that bed, where she had breathed her last, and I could not bear sleeping with a ghost.

When Harry woke up, he asked immediately for Lily, and I had to go through the whole explanation again.  By then I was weary and my nerves were shot and I had barely any patience to spare. 

"But when is she coming back, Dad?" Harry asked for the twentieth time.

"She's not!" I snapped, losing it.  "She's never coming back, dammit, and you're just going to have to accept it! She's gone and you'll never see her again and neither will I. Never again, understand?"  A part of me was appalled at the way I was shouting at the poor kid, but I was falling apart, my control splintering, and I didn't know what I was saying.

Harry began to cry and suddenly it was just too much.

I bolted from the room and ended up falling on my knees beside our bed, the bed where she had made me promise to not follow her to the realm where shadows go, and I put my head down and howled, "Lily, I can't do this anymore! God, I can't stand it! Every night I see you in my dreams . . .I miss you so damn much! Why did you have to leave me? Why??"

I fell apart utterly then, that impenetrable fog I had erected vanished, and the tide of raw pain and sorrow I had been suppressing broke over me like a wave, and I drowned in its depths.  I sobbed and howled like a mad thing, begging for Lily to come back to me, wishing I had never made that promise.

I don't know how long I remained lost in my own private hell, but the thing that brought me back was a little voice saying, "Daddy, it's okay.  Don't cry, please.  I love you, don't go with Mummy."

I whirled around and saw him standing there, like a lost soul, and I pulled him to me and whispered, "Harry, I won't leave you.  I'm right here, scamp."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He started to cry again, or perhaps he had never stopped, and inbetween sobs he said, "I miss Mummy."

"I know.  Me too," I answered, and I cried along with him.  "But at least I still have you, scamp." I whispered, and that thought eased the terrible pain somewhat.

We ended up falling asleep on the floor there, exhausted by the sudden outpouring of grief.

Even so, it was weeks before I could bring myself to sleep in my bed again.

* * * * * *

A few days after that, I discovered Lily's journal, though it was another day before I could bring myself to read it.  I ended up weeping over it, but this time the tears were not bitter, but sweet release, and the insight I gained into her thoughts those last days helped me to come to grips with my terrible grief.  Somewhat. 

My heart was still wounded, still aching, but it was less pronounced, and I had hope that I would learn to go on without my beloved at my side. 

Thank Merlin for Matthew, Sirius, and Remus.  They made sure that I ate and slept and didn't neglect Harry and wallow in my own self-pity and grief.  And when they weren't around, I found Albus and Minerva knocking at my door, dropping in to say hello or bringing me tea and cakes or some other inane reason. 

"How are you holding up, dear?" Minerva asked one day, after making us tea and insisting I actually eat something. 

"All right," was the best that I could say.  It was a lie, I was miserable, and the only thing enabling me to get up every morning was Harry.

All of my patients knew that my wife had passed, and were quietly sympathetic when they came into the office, I was grateful for it, but I still felt a raw throbbing ache whenever I thought of my Lily, gone now where shadows go, along with James and my mother and everyone else who had died over the years. 

"You really should eat something, Severus.  How about a cinnamon scone?" Minerva urged.

I took one, but only to be polite, since lately food had lost its appeal for me, and everything tasted like ashes.  To my surprise, I actually ate the entire scone, only then recalling I had skipped breakfast, lunch, and if I had eaten dinner last night I didn't remember it.  Harry I made sure ate, but I wasn't half as conscious with myself. 

"How is Harry, my boy?"

"He's . . .still upset over his mother's death, as you can imagine.  But I don't think he quite understands that she's never coming back.  I think he believes that one day he'll come home and she'll be here, same as always.  He's only four, it's a lot for a child to comprehend. Sometimes he has nightmares, and wakes up calling for her." I shook my head sadly.  Those nights were the worst, because he usually didn't calm down until an hour later, and by then I was exhausted myself, and not very comforting, I'm afraid.

"Poor little mite," Albus said, and he suddenly looked every one of his one-hundred and fifty something years.  "Where is he, Severus? Asleep?"

"No. He's over at Molly Weasley's at the moment," I replied to Albus's query.  "She volunteered to watch him on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so he didn't need to spend all his time at the hospital daycare center."

"Are you on call then, Severus?" asked the old wizard.

"Yes, but so far there have been no emergencies or deliveries," I answered.  Normally that would have been a blessing, but since Lily had died, I found myself longing for those crazy days on call, where I'd be too busy to think, and come home too tired to dream.

"You look tired, Sev.  Have you been getting enough sleep?" Minerva queried, looking at me sternly.

I looked away, for I knew I could never lie to her, she was one of the few friends who could see past my façade.  "Not . . . really." I didn't bother telling her that I couldn't sleep without using Dreamless Sleep, and I had stopped taking it a week ago, refusing to let myself become dependent upon a potion.  A Snape didn't need to resort to drugs as a crutch, magical or otherwise.

"Why don't you go and take a nap then?" she suggested, reminding of my mother.

"I'm all right, Minerva, I don't need-"

"Nonsense, Healer Snape.  You're worn to a shadow and you need a break, now go and lie down and let yourself rest, my boy.  Albus and I will wake you if anyone summons you over that bloody mirror."

I was too damn tired to put up much of a fight, though normally I detested anyone treating me like I was a child.  So I went and took a nap on the couch for about three hours, before the Spell Damage Ward contacted me and said I had a case, some idiot teenager had been playing around with a Fire Starter spell and set himself on fire.  So I went off to the hospital, and Albus and Minerva assured me they would fetch Harry and look after him for me. 

When I returned home, hours later, I found Albus reading my son a bedtime story and Minerva had cooked me dinner and practically stood over me while I ate it, asking me how badly the boy had been burned. 

I replied, "It could have been worse.  I managed to repair the worst of the damage, so he won't scar too badly and he'll regain full use of his arm in a few weeks." I shook my head.  "The fool kid was showing off, trying to catch a fireball in his bare hand, while his silly girlfriend watched."

"Children nearly always have to learn things the hard way," Minerva said, sadly.

I just nodded, and finished eating my supper, which tasted quite good for a change.

* * * * * *

Over the next few weeks, Sirius and Remus made it a point to come over whenever they were free, and so did Vi and Hal, who helped me go through Lily's personal effects, what there was of them.  She had given away many of her things to friends and relatives before she had died, but a few things I kept, like her journal and her photo albums, and some jewelry that she had loved.  I figured Harry would appreciate it when he was older, and if he ever had a daughter, he could give her the pendant and the rings I had saved. 

Yet, even with her things gone, I still felt her presence hovering in the house, and I was reminded of her every time I slept in my room.  I had become so accustomed to holding her while I slept those last few months that my arms automatically reached out for her, only to clutch empty air.  I took to hugging her pillow, which still had some of her favorite perfume on it.  I wished stupidly that I had a toy like Harry's Inky to hold when I woke in the middle of the night, thinking she was beside me. 

Time heals all wounds, or so the old saying goes and perhaps that is right, and someday the sharp longing will cease to torment me and I can stop mourning and start living again. 

Harry too, was subdued and quiet, not at all himself, and though a part of me was relieved, another part wanted the old rambunctious scamp back.  He was very clingy, making a huge ruckus whenever I had to leave him at the daycare or even at Molly's sometimes to go to work.  Some days I had to pry him off me and leave him howling after me.  It broke my heart, but what could I do? I had to go to work and I couldn't do my job with a four-year-old clinging to my robes. 

 But Harry eventually learned to trust that I would return as I had promised and stopped crying and throwing tantrums whenever I left, thank goodness.  Those days I had to reassure him that I would always come home and if I was late I would call and let him know, so he didn't make himself ill worrying that I might never return. 

Inky saved my sanity many times over during those weeks, and I blessed Lily's foresight in giving him that stuffed panther a thousand times over. Harry took him everywhere and treated him like he was alive at times, and the panther seemed to comfort him when no one else could, oddly enough. 

As I said before, it almost made me wish I had one.

As I sit here, scribbling, Harry is currently playing with him, making believe they are going to school aboard the Hogwarts Express, his new favorite game.  Soon I shall draw a bath for him and put him to bed, then spend a portion of the evening going over my current schedule for the next day.  After that, perhaps I shall relax with a good book, reading is a favorite pastime of mine, though I have hardly been in the mood to immerse myself in a decent book lately. 

Sirius used to tease me when we were children, calling me Severus Bookworm and Encyclopedia Boy, since I nearly always had my nose buried in a book, or carried one with me.  I was happy that Harry shared my love of the written word, he would be a fine scholar when he was older, and hopefully not one to shirk homework or reading assignments. 

Vi had lent me a book of daily meditations and sayings, something to help me through the grieving process, and I read a quote or a saying a day, when I remembered them.  One stuck in my head, and I feel compelled to record it here.  It said that what is loved never dies, so long as one remembers. 

I have found that saying to be true, for so long as I remember my beloved Lily flower, she shall live on within me, and never fade.

I also recall something she wrote to me in her journal, which I have read many times over since that day I discovered it upon her nightstand.  She told me not to grieve forever, nor to bury my heart in the grave along with her, but to allow myself to love again, should the opportunity present itself.  The way she did after James died. 

"I do not want you to live the rest of your life alone, Sev, wishing for me to return.  You deserve to be happy, and if ever you meet a woman who makes you feel so, please do not hesitate to follow your heart and love again.  You should not become a monk simply because I am gone, and you have my blessing to love as your heart bids, as I have done in loving you, my beloved Master Healer.  In that way you shall honor me best."

I do not think I shall ever find a woman like her again, and I am far from ready to start searching, but I shall keep her words in mind, just in case. Who knows? I am no Seer, to predict what could be, and all I can say for certain is that I have known a love like no other, and my heart shall go on, one beat at a time, and perhaps someday . . .

For now it is enough that I have Harry, Lily's legacy, and I shall do my best to be a good father and give him the love and compassion and discipline I never had from my own.  That in itself should be enough to keep me busy for a very long time, Merlin help me, and if I am still sane, perhaps my heart will have healed enough to allow another woman into it. 

But I shall never forget you, Lily Ann Snape, my first love, my best friend, who taught a lonely man how to love and gave him a home and a family.  Thank you.