An Unrequited Love (S. Snape)

Prologue

I've had this one in mind for a few days now, and I think I'm finally satisfied enough with it to upload it to Wattpad. I'm a little nervous, though. Usually I'm a few chapters in before I decide to start uploading, and currently I'm only at two... this is the prologue, though, and I hope it ends up living up to my own expectations. So, hope you enjoy it? :)

My life hadn’t been perfect.

Originally raised by my birthparents Lily and James Potter, I can’t remember much. All I can see now are tiny snippets that are hardly worth my time. Most frequently, I can picture very vaguely a tiny, newborn infant with bright green eyes and black, untidy hair. Even when he was born, he had those sparse locks that were barely existent, but they were visible enough to know that he had inherited his father’s dark mop, at least.

If I think hard enough, small memories come hurtling back, but I can’t remember the words spoken — and I doubt at the time I knew much of what my parents were saying, anyway. Tiny things like going to the park, watching my father racing around on a broom in the backyard, and the very brief time of cradling my newborn brother in my arms are the most frequent things that come to mind.

Then, there was the one, simple memory that changed everything. I had been three, the impractical, young age in which a kid will throw tantrums, and whine and cry until they either get their way, or are left sorely disappointed. It had been Hallowe’en, and I was tucked into bed already, dozing into a slumber that would only shortly be disturbed.

A huge explosion, and the front door had been knocked down. I remember jumping up with a scream. I was at an old enough age where my bed no longer required railings, though it was wide and plush enough that there was no worry of me slipping out of it. I could hear my father shouting something on the bottom floor below me, and I jumped out of the bed, bare feet padding softly against the floor when a green, mesmerizing light lit up the hall.

I could only remember the sheer beauty and brightness, and the fact that it was like a lure to a fish. Pulling me closer, driving my curiosity full-tilt, it wasn’t long until I was jogging towards my door. Leaning around the frame, I was quickly pulling back in fear.

A man in long, sweeping robes of black moved steadily up the stairs, eyeing my mother across the hall from me disdainfully. She sank back, eyes meeting mine momentarily, only to press her finger to her lips, gesturing for me to remain silent. I obediently listened, watching her green eyes fill with tears as she retreated far back down the hall, until racing into my brother’s room.

The man followed, having not seen her small exchange with me. There was an air about him that made me shudder. The hall felt cool when he was near me, and his head of receding black hair didn’t once turn towards me. He was moving steadily nearer my mother, and finding my bearings, I followed him silently.

The air was heavy with tension, and it was when I spotted my father lying motionlessly on the floor below that I began to realize exactly how serious this was becoming. My three-year-old mind reeled, though my immaturity during the situation got the best of me. I saw him lying there, and instantly believed he was sleeping. I couldn’t connect the fact that the beautiful, bright green light had in fact done harm to my father.

I suppose it wouldn’t understand that.

Walking past the odd sight, I continued down the hall, listening closely to my mother’s frantic voice, followed by his raspy, chilling tones.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now …”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead — “

"This is my last warning —"

"Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... have mercy … Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything — “

“Stand aside — stand aside, girl — “

The green was brighter now, and there was no mistaking the sound of a loud, heavy rushing sound, and then silence. It was so silent. I could’ve sworn I could hear my heart thudding — my mother no longer shouted, and there was the unmistakable sound of something colliding with the ground — had she fallen asleep, too?

I covered the remaining space, finally reaching the frame of the doorway, and upon peering in, I witnessed the man hovering over the cot, pointing his wand into the crib where a curious Harry Potter stared straight back. His green eyes weren’t afraid. He eyed the man like he was any guest of the house — like the man had been welcomed.

“Avada Kedavra!”

His voice was horrible. I can only remember it as an awful, cold noise, sounding much more like a snake rather than a human voice. However, as the green light returned, the man retreated, clutching his face in pure agony as he released screams of terror. He screamed as if his skin was being torn apart, as if he was being burned alive, as if the pain were scalding him to charred remains.

It was with staggering steps that he pivoted on his bare foot, and in a swirl of a black cloak, vanished from the room. It was like he never existed — the only proof remaining that he was ever in my home was the fact that two grown adults were currently sleeping on the floor, and a tiny toddler was now crying.

It was with faint, and hesitant footfalls that I entered the room, and upon entering I walked over to my mother first. She didn’t stir, and her eyes stared — unseeingly — towards the ceiling.

“Mama,” I whispered, and shook her shoulder lightly. Her body shifted limply from my touch, but didn’t move afterwards. I shook her harder. “Mama, wake up!” I shook her again — and again — and again.

Hot tears leaked from my eyes, but I didn’t give up, persisting until I was too exhausted to carry on, and my brother’s deafening cries were too frustrating to deal with any longer. Pressing my face into her unmoving torso, I cried into her clothes until my eyes were too itchy to continue, and I grew tired with fatigue.

I remember there being a long gap of time until there was a sign of anyone within the house. Harry’s cries were reduced to the odd sniffle, and I stared dully into my mother’s eyes, as if any second they would be once more sparkling with life, and everything could be like it was.

The sudden presence, however, had roused my senses. Slowly, I sat up, scratching at my irritated eyes, and croaking out a hoarse, “Hello?”

The footsteps paused before continuing, and as the person walked quietly down the hall towards me, I waited with an abated breath. Could it be my father? Had he woken up from the sleep and finally returned?

But, it wasn’t.

A man had entered, and upon looking in at the scene, he leaned heavily against the wall, his face appearing as if he had lived a thousand years of misery. Black eyes clouded with tears, and his lips parted in agony, a choked sound of sorrow escaping them. It was like he had seen right through me. His eyes only saw the red head behind me, and as he stumbled into the room, he collapsed on the ground beside me, arms wrapping tightly around my mother, and holding her firmly within his grasp.

I didn’t understand then, and I didn’t make a sound as this mysterious man held my mother closely as if he had been the one who had married her, and not my own father. It was a long while until he had finally become silent, and let her body slip with finality back down to the floor.

My green eyes looked to him with curiosity, but I would never be able to know how he reacted. A hand pressed hard against my mouth, stifling any sounds, and within seconds everything went black.

To this day, I still don’t exactly know what happened that night.

Next thing I knew, I was laying on the plush surface of a beautiful, queen sized bed in a room of pink walls, a pink canopy, and light, hardwood floors. Tears instantly blurred my vision, and I cried out in pleads for my parents.

But, they never came.