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Fleeting Intimacy

Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Lily Evans
Theme set: Gamma
Rating: PG
This is nothing more than my interpretation of JK Rowling's beloved characters. I own nothing.
Author's Note: Sev/Lily is love, and so are comments. :)


He feels like he is drowning in the deepest of oceans, the waves are pushing him further and further away from reality and she is the mermaid, the sea-goddess, luring him closer and closer and further and further down. The ocean is vast, and yet she is the centre point, the focus, the one who stops him from succumbing to the ocean’s immeasurable power.

Severus is drowning, and Lily is resisting, and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice tells him that he needs to find a life raft, to return to shore and to stop dwelling in dreams and fantasies. Because not only is she the goddess of the ocean, she is the ocean itself. She is everything to him, and as much as he needs to let go, to move to safer waters, he can’t bring himself to do it. Severus is mesmerised.

He just wants to drown in the ocean.

Follow Me

“Follow me,” Severus whispers, his voice as wispy as the clouds gallivanting through the torrid, windy sea that is the sky. “Come.”

Lily looks blankly at him, and he squeezes his hand around her arm, possibly a little more forcibly than necessary.

“Where are we going?” she asks, shielding her eyes from the sun as they run across the open field, with Severus leading, and she following. They continue to run, and he is still in front of Lily, he is the engine and she is the carriages that follow it, not the first across the finish line, but just as important.

He pulls up suddenly, and she almost topples over him.

“Look,” Severus says, “a rainbow.”

Lily laughs, a short tinkling laugh that reminds Severus of water gushing from a waterfall, and says, “Let’s look for the pot of gold at the end.”

“I don’t need a pot of gold.” His voice is soft, but honest, and the raw emotion seems to pour out with his words. “I’ve got you.”

She’s glad she followed him.


He moves left, she moves right. He steps closer and longs for togetherness, she steps away, fleeing to the land of study and responsibility. They move in an eternal dance, their hearts and their footsteps dictating their relationship. It’s a Paso Doble; he is the matador, desperate to win the fiery and tempestuous bull.

It’s what Severus dreams of, doing the Paso Doble with Lily, holding her close, running his hand along her creamy thigh and spinning her in tight little circles across the dance floor. Dreams are just that though, dreams, fickle, tantalising things that are rarely embodied in life.

So he steps closer, she steps away, and the eternal dance continues.


Lily is sitting under a tree … their tree, and Potter is lying beside her, their bodies entangled in a passionate embrace. He feels sick, he feels like his heart is exploding, bursting with the pressure and the pain. Time is a fickle thing, Severus thinks. Once, he had all the time in the world to devote to Lily, to love her and hold her and kiss her and tell her that he would be hers for all eternity. He had all the time in the world to make her reciprocate his feelings.

Now, she is with him, and time has run out, the clock has stopped ticking for him, leaving him empty, heartbroken, in despair. Every sacred moment, every hallmark of her life now longer belongs to Severus, but to him, to her boyfriend.

(The word is painful, as harsh and shocking and downright perilous as a lightning bolt)

Time has run out for Severus, but the clock will tick forever for Lily and him.


Everything has an opposite. Summer and winter. Life and death. Lily and Severus. She is bright and glowing, a sparking shimmering array of red and green and numerous other colours, and he is dull, shrouded in mystery and in black.

If they were candles atop a birthday cake, he would flicker and disappear in a flash, while she would glow brightly and vividly, allowing everyone to admire her exquisite shine.

Lily glows, Severus fades. She is loved by many, he is loved by none. Her shining light is the forbidden fruit, tempting and tantalising and completely out of reach.

Everything has an opposite, and, for Lily and Severus, this will never change.


He’s controlled, he’s unwavering, and he’s mysterious. Sallow skin, his fave enveloped by greasy black curtains of hair, the sort of smile that gives Lily the impression he’s got a secret agenda involving her.

He’s loud, he’s flamboyant, and he’s unique. Messy hair, shimmering hazel eyes, a smile that is warm, sincere and yet way too arrogant and cocky.

Severus and James.

The enigma and the open book.

Lily had the power to choose between them, and she’d always had faith in her decision, her love of the enigma, of the mystery.

Until that fateful day by the lake …


“Sev, look Sev!” Lily cries, giggling insanely as she heaves herself up off the ground after yet another failed attempt at a cartwheel.

“Come try it with me.”

Severus glances furtively around, to make sure no-one is watching, before sprinting across the freshly mown grass to join her. He grins in amazement as she flips over, performing a seemingly flawless spin, and lands on her feet. The sound of him clapping echoes through the still summer afternoon, and she grins back, nervously twisting a strand of her shining red hair around her finger like a shy little girl.

It’s the little things like this he loves, the way she scratches her chin when she’s thinking, or the way she snorts whenever Muggles use the word “magic.”

It’s the little things, the things that make her different, that make her quirky.

The things that make her unique.


The air is filled with the scraping of spoons against the deepest crevices of bowls and the sound of contented sighs as the sea of people roll their tongues gracefully around generous slices of treacle tart. Severus sighs, dessert is a useless frivolity.

Incredibly listless, he stares around the Great Hall, avoiding the urge to snort at how intimate some people are getting with their after-dinner meal. One little Hufflepuff girl is moaning and groaning and her face is smothered in chocolate, causing a few other boys at her table to laugh.

Severus continues scanning the room, before his eyes, as wide as saucers, fall upon Lily. Her head is back and she’s laughing as an arm holds out a strawberry, dipped in chocolate. He watches, fascinated, as she dips in her mouth, once, twice, her tongue swirling across the chocolate before retreating behind those luscious lips. She does it again, and again, and he’s mesmerised, unable to turn his eyes away from her.

Maybe dessert isn’t quite so bad after all.


How do you tell someone that you love them? How do you tell someone that you long to touch them and hold them and kiss them so much that it hurts?

And, most importantly, how will they respond?

He has to tell her, because his secret is torturing him, it’s slowly eating away at him from the inside.

“Lily,” he mumbles, the words tumbling from his mouth like water from a waterfall, “I … I love you.”

Lily looks up, removing her head from her book and tossing her fiery red dresses over her shoulder. Severus allows a small flicker of hope, like a candle flame, to wash over him as her delicate pink lips part.

“Really,” she says, with just the tiniest hint of surprise in her voice, and the moment is lost. “Well, look Sev, you’re a great friend, one of the best, but I … I don’t love you.”

He nods, and it feels like he’s pulling on a mask to hide the fact that his heart is shattering into millions of tiny, fragile pieces.

After it all though, he’s glad he told her, glad he’s not keeping secrets anymore.


He feels like he’s drowning again, only this time, it’s not lust, it’s sorrow and despair. He can feel Dumbledore’s watchful, thoughtful eyes gazing down on him, see McGonagall’s concerned face buckling under the weight of wrinkles that mark worry and despair, but it barely registers under the weight of the current that is submerging him, dragging him under and down, down, down. The sights in front of him are as blurry and faded as a watercolour painting, and all he can see is Lily’s vivid hair and eyes shining fiercely in his mind.

He can’t breathe, and he feels this burning, aching desire to destruct to rage and to rip himself apart and to kill. That image is wounding him, digging a knife into his side and she’s … she’s dead, and the ocean is dragging him down again.

Down, down, down.


Severus lies idly under their tree; his fingers impatiently twisting and furling the lone thread that hangs from the end of his already tattered robe. He watches, his black eyes wide with greed and anticipation as Lily sprints across the field towards him; her face is flushed, her hair escaping from what was obviously a hasty bun and her clothes are covered in grass, but, to Severus, she has never been more beautiful.

“I’ve got to go,” she mumbles, “Remus has organised a prefect meeting for everyone to organise Christmas.”

Lily sprints off, and Severus knows he should be making an attempt on his homework or practising his latest spell, and instead he lays there, that little black piece of cotton still wrapped tightly around his finger. It, like he, is alone and being manipulated by others. It, like he, is afraid it will never be able to reunite with those it loves.

Giving thoughts to a thread was never something Severus had ever considered before, but it seemed to help ease the pain he was feeling. They were both alone, both plagued by fear that they would never see their loved ones in any sort of normalcy again.


Severus wriggles closer towards her sleeping body, his finger tracing her elegant curves in the air and his eyes hungry with greed. She is sprawled out like a eagle, and he easily manages to work his way towards her side and curl up beside her, his heart pounding and full of desire. She stirs, but does not wake, her eyelids, as pure and delicate as silk, flutter, but do not open. He has no desire to wake her, she is so peaceful, so innocent, so stunning in her slumber. Instead he is just content to lay there, with rays of sunlight streaming down on his back and the sound of birds whistling merrily in his ears, and hear her heartbeat, which seems to be in complete unison with his. Two heartbeats, together as one.


They’re entwined under the night sky, Lily shrieks and shivers as lightning bolts strike all around them, flashing and blinding him. Peals of thunder boom overhead, and Severus grabs her head, dragging her furiously across the grounds and under the shelter of the tree, laughing slightly as a leaf falls on his head and slides down his face, tickling him. He draws her closer to him, protecting her fragile body from the pounding rain, and she looks up and smiles at him, and he cannot help himself, he presses his mouth against hers and fireworks are exploding and the thunder is deafening and she’s shaking her head at him and motioning towards the castle.

He’s filled with avarice, with pure, simple greed. He wants another moment like that, the passion, the love, the fleeting intimacy. He wants it, and he’ll do anything to get it again.



Great work :) Nice
Wow...this was just beautiful... :)

January 2008

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