Harry Potter and The Other

Severus Snape never wanted to be loved.

Despite having a high—perhaps too high—opinion of himself, deep down he considered himself unworthy of such feelings.

This conviction took root in him during childhood, growing up in a dysfunctional family where he was an only child. His mother, Eileen—née Prince—was long-faced and long-nosed, with sickly, sallow skin, coal-black hair, and eyes. Her features were coarse and masculine, making her openly unattractive. Moreover, she was eight years older than her husband and had married him as an old maid.

His father, Tobias Snape—tall and broad-shouldered, with a square chin and watery blue eyes—might have been handsome before drinking himself into ruin, but Severus didn't remember that. All he could recall was his father's swollen, rage-flushed face with a web of broken capillaries on his cheeks, and his thin, prematurely graying hair.

The parents did not live harmoniously. It wasn't constant fighting like a cat and dog—his mother was patient, and his father feared laying hands on a witch unless he was drunk beyond reason—but the house was filled with an atmosphere of lovelessness. Witches believed that if you revealed your magic to a Muggle before marriage, the child would be a Squib, so witches had long kept the truth from their Muggle husbands until after the wedding. Eileen had done the same, confessing her secret to Tobias only after they were married, and the superstitious Muggle never came to terms with the fact that she was a witch. She continued to love him—or at least clung to him—but Tobias's lack of love was enough to make the family's atmosphere unbearable.

Severus suspected why his father had married his mother. The Princes were traditionally skilled in Potions, and if a witch stooped to marry a Muggle, a mild love potion was barely considered interference. Tobias's parents were horrified by their son's choice, while Eileen's family disowned her entirely. The young family managed to get by on their own, shunned by both sides.

Severus was irritated by the coddling of grandparents—though no one coddled him because all relatives had turned their backs on the family.

It was hard to say who Eileen might have given birth to had she confessed to being a witch before the wedding—most likely, no one. Tobias probably wouldn't have married her despite the love potion. But her ploy succeeded, and their son took after his mother—black-haired, black-eyed, with unhealthy, yellowish skin and a long, drooping nose. Most importantly, he was born a wizard, inheriting his mother's aptitude for Potions, or at least a strong interest in it, since she couldn't teach him much else.

Severus wanted to learn everything his mother knew, and he did.

His appearance and talents only deepened Tobias's disgust for both him and his mother. Often, in a drunken stupor, the elder Snape would mutter that the boy had nothing of his father in him—that he was devil's spawn and not his. Eileen had little time for her son, too absorbed in her relationship with her husband, so Severus grew up unloved.

He was unattractive and painfully proud, convinced that if anyone ever loved him, it would be out of pity. Such love was something he did not want.

Growing up in a poor, rough neighborhood, he eyed the world like a wolf cub and was hostile toward everyone. The world returned the favor.

Severus often thought he would have been better off without his parents. And in truth, they died early.

Lily's arrival in his life was something different. He fell in love with the girl at first sight, entranced by her bright appearance and cheerful face, not yet understanding what had happened to him. A beloved child of her parents with an open, joyful personality, Lily was the exact opposite of the sullen, angry street boy from provincial slums. The world loved her, and she saw no reason not to love it back.

Their friendship was entirely Severus's initiative. At first, Lily didn't push him away, and when they started talking about her abilities, she became genuinely interested in him. She had nowhere else to learn about magic, and Severus told her everything about the magical world, ignoring all the restrictions. What kind of restrictions could there be when a charming little witch listened to him with bated breath?

In Hogwarts, already a teenager, Severus dreamed of marrying Lily, living under the same roof with her, and carrying her in his arms... He didn't even dream of her loving him.

Severus considered himself unworthy of Lily's love—and she never loved him.

She loved James Potter, who thought himself worthy of her love, and married him. Severus was left with a broken dream and joined the Death Eaters, where he was treated better than anywhere else.

He was used to hatred. He knew how to hate. He hated the world, especially the four Gryffindors, whom he saw as the worst part of that world. He didn't even like his Death Eater comrades; to him, they were the lesser evil, offering the most benefits.

Snape didn't care that the Death Eaters' plans endangered others. But when they threatened the life of the only person he had ever loved, he betrayed them without hesitation.

Until recently, Snape had had a purpose—to exact revenge on the world that took Lily from him. He never grew to love her son, no matter how much Dumbledore pushed him to. The detested offspring of James Potter was always a slap in the face from fate, but for Lily, in her memory, Snape resigned himself to the necessity of saving and protecting the boy. That had been his mission for years.

And now? Voldemort, the one who had taken Lily's life from him, was finally dead. Moreover, Lily was still alive, and it turned out he had suffered the brat's presence for nothing all these years. Although, as it turned out, not even a true Potter, Snape had been convinced otherwise.

Now, Snape felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. Even when he encountered Lily again nearly two decades later, she held no true place in his heart—only the familiarity of old habits. Deep down, something still responded to her name. Even if it was just the memory of youthful love, there was nothing and no one else left to hold onto. Now, he was without purpose, without any attachment, facing an empty and meaningless future.

Perhaps that was why he so easily responded to Dumbledore's call and once again put his head under the yoke of the old man? It was, at least, the semblance of a purpose, an illusion to fill the void in which he now found himself.

In the final days, Dumbledore hadn't summoned Snape, leaving him to aimlessly wander his old house, inherited from his parents. The shelves full of potion books barely caught his attention anymore, and he felt no desire to pick one up. He didn't even want to descend to the small home lab to experiment with new recipes. His best creative years had been wasted on teaching unbearable lessons to juvenile idiots and layabouts, on grading their insufferable nonsense—how did parchment even endure it? And now, neither his mind nor his ambition were what they had been at twenty. He would never research with the same passion again, simply because he no longer wanted to.

Snape, though working for the Order of the Phoenix, had never been truly accepted there. The only ones who had welcomed him, even somewhat, were the Malfoys. Now, they were lost to him—Narcissa would never forgive his betrayal. Not that he cared about the Malfoys anymore; he no longer needed them. His ambitions were different now from what they had been twenty years ago, and he would always manage to make ends meet.

He had never needed friends—and he had never had any.

Except, perhaps, for Lily... But Lily was something entirely different. Even the most sullen and unsociable man has a place in his heart for at least one woman. That's just nature—and friendship has nothing to do with it.

Snape wandered through the house like a mechanism that had been forgotten and left running. Needing no one, and needed by no one.

The sound of the doorbell startled him. After his parents' death, the front door of the Snape house existed purely for show, as the only remaining occupant never used it, and being in a Muggle neighborhood under anti-Muggle charms, no one had disturbed it for years.

He hesitated, hoping the uninvited visitor would go away, but the bell kept ringing. Not shyly, like from a beggar's hand, nor loudly and sharply, as if from an official, but cheerfully and playfully, as if reminding the master of an arranged friendly meeting. Irritated and confused, Snape went to open it.

He threw open the door, ready to send the intruder away—and nearly collapsed where he stood.

"Hello, Sev!" smiled an enchanting redheaded woman waiting on the doorstep.

"Lily…" was all he could manage.

A few moments of silence passed, but the guest quickly grew bored of waiting for her old friend to stop standing there like a poorly made plaster statue.

"Are we going to stand here forever?" she teased. "Sev, you haven't changed at all—you're still the same grumpy, silent type you were in our best years," and without waiting for an invitation, she stepped over the threshold. "The living room—is it this way?"

"Yes... come in," he muttered.

Lily stopped in the middle of the dim, neglected living room, looking around with lively curiosity. She knew where her school friend's house stood but had never been here before. Snape's gaze followed hers, lingering just as much on the dusty surfaces of the old furniture and the hastily pulled-back curtains. He recalled how Lily had always been neat and immediately noticed disorder wherever she went.

Yes, that dust should have been cleaned up two weeks ago. It would have taken just a few flicks of his wand, but Snape couldn't bring himself to even do that. What was the point in cleaning when he wasn't obsessed with cleanliness, and the dust would return tomorrow anyway? Snape cleaned his house maybe once a month, and that month was almost up. Just his luck that Lily, a cleanliness fanatic, would show up now.

"Do you live here… alone?" she asked, her tone holding barely any curiosity—her sharp eye had already noted the absence of a woman's touch in the house.

"Yes," he confirmed, offering no further explanation.

"You've been out of sight for a while, and I started to worry," Lily said, when it became clear he wasn't going to elaborate. "I decided to visit."

"I'm deeply touched," Snape's response was even drier than he'd intended. Her visit had clearly thrown him off balance.

He remained standing at the entrance to the living room, as though he were the guest and she the host. Lily turned and walked up to him, looking intently into his eyes.

"You did so much for our victory, Sev," she said. "All these years, I've admired you."

An awkward feeling pierced Snape. He wasn't used to being praised, and certainly not by Lily.

"Maybe some coffee?" His desire to escape the uncomfortable situation made him remember hospitality.

"I wouldn't say no to a cup," Lily smiled. "We can sit and reminisce about our happy childhood."

Snape didn't want to remember childhood. His had been anything but happy. Like the rest of his life.

"Do you mean when you accepted the advances of that brainless four-eyed fool?" he blurted without thinking—just a slight prod to his sore spot, and his usual reaction surfaced. "Oh, sorry…"

Lily looked at him so sadly and trustingly that it made his heart ache.

"You…" she hesitated, "…you have no idea how right you are."

Snape stared at her, trying to figure out if he'd heard her correctly and understood her words, while she looked at him with the expression of a hurt girl seeking help. Her close presence stirred him, which didn't help his clarity of mind.

"Lily…" he muttered hoarsely. "Are you saying that pompous show-off… that arrogant peacock… hurts you?"

"I don't want to say that," Lily looked away and down at the floor. "But I can't lie to you, Sev. My years with James…" She paused and sighed softly, "…they've been very hard years."

For a moment, Snape observed Lily, who now seemed withdrawn and looking down, almost as if she were shyly twisting her foot on the floor.

"But…" he finally managed, "when I saw you at meetings, you seemed perfectly happy…"

"I had to pretend everything was fine. In public, and with James. Especially with James. Worst of all, I had to distance myself from you, Sev. You know how jealous James is, and he's still convinced I… haven't forgotten you."

She gave him a pleading, tearful look—and Snape was terrified. He was simply scared of what might follow next. It meant a lot, so many responsibilities and nerves, something had to be done, something had to change in his life. Unrequited love was, of course, a great disappointment and a huge emotional wound, but in everyday life, it required nothing from him. He could quietly suffer on the couch in his untidy apartment, cursing the unfairness of the world. After years of solitude, Snape had grown used to his passive position and wasn't ready for changes.

"I'll… get the coffee…" And he retreated to the stove.

If Lily was disappointed, she didn't show it. Sitting on a stool, she silently watched him brew the coffee. It was hard to hold a conversation with someone's back.

At last, the hot coffee was poured into cups and placed on the small kitchen table where Lily sat. Snape put down the sugar bowl as well and sat across from her. Lily pulled one of the cups toward her, scooped a little with a teaspoon, and tasted it.

"Your coffee is wonderful," she would have praised bad coffee, but it was indeed good.

"Well, I am a potions master," Snape smirked, flattered.

"What are your plans for the future?" she asked.

"I haven't thought about it yet," he admitted, genuinely unsure of what to do with his newfound freedom. "And you?"

He asked merely to keep the conversation going, but for Lily, this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.

"I…" she sighed bitterly, "…will look for a place to live, and then a job. Do you know anyone around here who rents places? I'd like to stay in Little Whinging, after all, this is where my childhood was."

"What?!" Snape recoiled. "You and Potter are moving to this area?!"

"Just me, Sev. You know, James and I… have separated."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"You left James?"

"Sev, he drove me away. Our marriage was a mistake from the start, and we both realized it soon enough. I would have left him back then, but I wanted to wait until Garick was old enough, and then there was the incident with my son's replacement. We were hiding from Death Eaters, and divorce was the last thing on our minds. But our relationship was always terrible, and we had no other children. We wanted to separate after the victory over Voldemort when the initial chaos settled and Garick took his rightful place. But unfortunately, James fell ill, and I wouldn't have left him if it weren't for him. When I went to visit him at St. Mungo's, he yelled at me, throwing a ridiculous jealous tantrum. I tried to calm him down and explain that he was wrong, but he wouldn't listen. And I had to leave."

Snape would have used Legilimency on anyone else just to be sure, but not on her. Even the lowest scoundrel has something sacred. For Snape, that was Lily.

"I didn't know," he muttered, accepting her words as absolute truth—especially since he'd never held James in high regard. "I had no idea, and you endured that scoundrel for so many years…" He caught himself. "But, Lily, maybe it was just a fight, and you'll forgive him?"

"No, Sev. I'm tired of forgiving him."

Lily curled up on the stool and began to quietly cry. Her tears were genuine because the lack of romantic initiative from her loyal admirer had begun to frighten her.

"Lily!" Snape jumped up, nearly knocking over the chair, and rushed to her. The self-assured witch he'd seen at meetings was gone—now before him was the childhood friend and love of his life, miserable and suffering. "Lily, dear, don't cry, you should be happy that you finally got rid of the glasses-wearing fool!"

He hovered over her, not daring to put a hand on her trembling shoulders.

"Sev…" she managed through her sobs, "I'll be happy later, but right now I'm scared. After all, so many years were spent on him… will you help me, Sev?"

"Of course, Lily, you can always count on me. Just tell me what to do."

"I need a place to stay, Sev. Even though James is at St. Mungo's now, I don't want to stay in his house. Help me find a place, and you'll be doing me a big favor. But it has to be cheap, I'm tight on money right now."

"Why rent a place when you can stay with me for free?" Snape was willing to do anything to stop her from crying. "The house is big, there's plenty of space. I swear I won't bother you or encroach on your… independence."

"Sev, I trust you completely," she sighed. "But what will people say?"

"Let them pay for your rent first, then they can talk. Lily, it's not your fault. Your husband should be ashamed for throwing his wife out onto the street."

"I'm no longer his wife, Sev," she said softly. "James magically renounced me. I'm Evans again."

Snape froze, staring at her red curls. The cherished dream of his life sat right there in front of him on a kitchen stool, her head down. Free. Deeply unhappy. Just as he had predicted, that scruffy Gryffindor fool hadn't made her happy. Now, Lily herself saw how wrong she'd been and admitted he was right. Now, she valued her old friend and came to him for help.

Victory was his. Snape was too elated and overwhelmed to notice its bitter aftertaste. Lily, genuinely concerned by his inaction, was sobbing louder.

"Lily…" he finally dared to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Now you're free, and you can take control of your life. You'll stay with me to spite Potter, and if you're worried about what people will say, we can get married—on paper."

"Why just on paper, Sev?" she instantly perked up. "If I have to choose between independence and you, I'll choose you, of course. And let's not delay, alright? I'm so tired of the past, Sev..."

"Uh... whatever you say."

And just like that, at nearly forty, Snape was suddenly faced with the fulfillment of his long-held dream. Now he would live under the same roof as Lily and carry her in his arms.

Lily was happy. Thanks to Dumbledore, she was sure she was marrying not a double traitor or a bitter failure, but an irreplaceable professional with connections.

Snape was too stunned to feel happy.