Harry Potter One Shots

Echoes of a Crying Child

All rights belong to the author, PadfootIsMyHomeDawg

Severus Snape apparated with a crack into Godric's Hollow, not giving a single damn that a Muggle might see. He had heard from the Death Eaters that...

No. He couldn't think about that. He rushed down the street, without a care to who might see him running, or how undignified it may look, rushing in his black robes without bothering to make them billow impressively behind him. They did billow, but that was only an attestment to how fast he was going.

He stopped in front of the house that he should not be able to see – not with the Secret Keeper in place. He knew for a fact that Black had been made Secret Keeper for the Potters on the twenty-eighth, just three days previous. He should not be able to see how half of the roof had fallen through, smoke billowing out along with a disturbing, evil sort of green matter, like a mist or a fog.

There was no Dark Mark...was he not too late?

He rushed through the Muggles beginning to gather – had there been an explosion that attracted them? Was that the reason for half the roof's disappearance? – and ran up the cobbled steps.

The door was open, just barely, and he could feel the aura of Dark, evil magic as he stumbled through, suddenly unable to find the strength or speed he'd had just moments before. Would she be dead? He didn't care so much about Potter, but – Lily? Would she be alright? The Dark Lord had said he would do his best to spare her...would he have kept his promise? There were rumors already that he had disappeared. Had she – somehow – been able to defeat him? His sweet, wonderful, beautiful Lily Evans – defeat the most evil wizard of the century?

He hardly noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he swept past Potter, lying at the base of the stairs – his hazel-colored eyes wide and staring, forever frozen in determination and bravery and terror all at once.

He got to the door of the nursery – it was slightly ajar – he pushed it open, and...

There she was. She lied, sprawled on her stomach, head to the side so her green eyes were visible, open and staring blankly in front of her. Her hair swept around her like liquid fire, tumbling down her back and falling away from her face. She looked terrified.

He stumbled against the doorframe, his body wracking with sobs. Lily. Sweet Lily. His Lily. His best friend, whom he had betrayed to the Dark Lord. This was all his fault – she was dead. Dead.

He stumbled his way further into the room, sobs spilling freely as tears coursed unchecked down his cheeks. He gathered her up into his arms – she was still a bit warm – and rocked her limp form, pressing the side of her head to his chest in a hug, like one would give to a small child. He could almost hear his heart splintering in half as he lost himself in his grief. He felt like a little boy, suddenly young again as he cried his pain. He could almost hear the echoes of a child in his head.

Wait. No, he realized as his pain began to dull to a deep ache and his weeping grew quieter. He could hear a real child crying.

His head snapped up, searching the room for the crib. Surely...?

But no. Just a few feet away, there was the little boy's crib, a piece of ceiling trapping the boy inside. He was crying – sobbing much as Severus had been just a moment before. His eyes were scrunched shut in pain, and his forehead was bleeding.

When the little boy – Harry, Severus remembered – didn't hear Severus crying so loudly, he began to calm a bit, and opened his eyes to look straight at him.

Lily.

Although the child was fifteen months old now, he hadn't ever actually met him. He had heard from a fair few that had known him before he went into hiding that he looked like Potter, but had Lily's eyes, but until he saw them, he had never truly believed that they could be so close as to be exact replicas.