The Burning Pen

A Looping of the Scales by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 3

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 3 ~ Finding Lily

Hermione and Snape reappeared in front of 4 Privet Drive with a crack of thunder.

Inside the house, Petunia was washing dishes and Vernon was watching the telly. Dudley was off with his friends. Petunia paused when she heard the thunder crack.

”Sounds like we might be in for a bit of a storm, Petunia,” Vernon called out from the comfort of the sofa.

She peered up at the sky through the small window over the sink. The sky was overcast, but there were no dark, angry thunder-producing rain clouds. She felt slightly uneasy as she went back to doing the dishes

Outside, Snape stared at the house as Hermione stood quietly beside him.

”It’s different. It has two floors,” Snape said, wiping at his eyes. He stood there, staring, afraid of what waited behind the house’s front door.

Hermione tried to take advantage of his hesitation to steer him away from what was bound to be a very painful encounter.

“You don’t have to do this. We can go back to Hogwarts—“

”No!” he hissed at Hermione without looking at her. “I want to talk to Lily’s parents.”

Hermione watched him walk up to the front door, hesitate and then knock.

”Petunia, the door!” Vernon called. He was lying on the sofa. He was closer to the front door than Petunia, but it took a lot of effort for him to get comfortable on the sofa with his great bulk.

It took even more effort to get up again.

”I’m coming, Vernon,” Petunia sang out, drying her hands and untying her apron. She rested it over the back of the kitchen chair, then patted her hair before exiting the kitchen, walking through the living room, into the foyer and opening the front door wearing her “Welcome to our home’ expression.

She took one look at the boy standing on the steps and let out a shriek that made Vernon roll of the sofa and hit the floor.

“No! No it can’t be-- It’s impossible! It can’t be—you!”

Snape stared at the tall, slender horsey-faced woman before him, amazed. This was clearly Petunia Evans, but she was so much older.

”P-Petunia?” he rasped.

Petunia shrieked again, stumbling back from the door into Vernon.

“Petunia? What’s wrong?” Vernon asked, grasping her bony shoulders as she pressed by into him.

She pointed a long finger at the tall, pale boy standing on the steps in black robes.

”It’s him. That horrible Snape boy! It’s him, Vernon! I don’t know how, but—“

She shrieked again, collapsing against his thick shoulder.

Vernon’s piggish eyes narrowed as he looked at the robes. He didn’t know who Snape was, but he recognized the manner of dress. He was one of them.

”Get out of here! We’re finished with you lot!” he snarled at Snape, his face turning purple, making him resemble a rather large, bulky grape. “We’ve only just settled in and we don’t need your kind around mucking up the atmosphere!”

Snape blinked at him.

”Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Evans?”

Vernon looked surprised. He blew his mustache upward like a walrus before answering the young wizard before him.

”Mr. and Mrs. Evans? There’s no Evans here, boy. They were killed years ago in a gas explosion,” he informed him.

Petunia began to gather her wits and straightened, Vernon's beefy hand holding her arm protectively.

”Killed?” Severus asked, his face going ashen.

”By your kind!” Petunia spat at him, recovering immediately. “The authorities said it was an accident, but I know better. They died the same day the Potters did.”

”The Potters?”

”Yes, the Potters! And it was all because of your kind—you and your blasted wars!” she hissed.

Snape blinked at her.

”The Potters died? James—“

“No, not James, the bloody coward, but everyone else in his family. He and Lily went into hiding. She left me to deal with the funerals and rebuilding the house. She didn’t care what happened! All she cared about was her own life!”

Snape swallowed, feeling relief. So, she had escaped.

”Where is Lily now? Can you tell me?”

Petunia stared at him.

”You are Severus Snape, aren’t you? Some kind of—of magic made you like this, didn’t it?” she asked him in a low voice. “You don’t know what’s happened, do you?”

There was an unholy, vindictive light in Petunia’s eyes as she looked at Snape. He had always been so dismissive of her, treating her like dirt because she had no magic and taking up all of Lily’s time regaling her with stories of how wonderful it was to have magic. Well, it didn’t end up so wonderful after all, did it? Still, his treatment had hurt her and she never really got over it.

“I-I don’t know what’s happened to me,” Snape admitted. “Please. You said Lily escaped. Please, can you tell me where she is?”

Petunia looked back at Vernon, who narrowed his eyes at her before she turned back to Snape.

”Certainly I can tell you. She’s at Godric’s Hollow,” Petunia replied, a slight smile on her face. “She’s been there for years.”

”Godric's Hollow?” Snape repeated, feeling relieved. “That’s where she lives?”

”That’s where she is,” Petunia said cryptically.

”Thank you. Thank you, Petunia!” Snape exclaimed, turning and running back to Hermione as Petunia watched him with cold eyes.

”Come on, take me to Godric’s Hollow. That’s where Lily is!” he cried, taking her arm.

”But—but professor,” Hermione said, horrified. He didn’t understand.

”Take me there, now! Please. I knew he was wrong! I knew it. Tom would never hurt Lily!”

Hermione looked at the Dursleys standing silently in the doorway. What awful, awful people. Petunia closed the door.

”Please. Now,” Snape implored her.

”All right,” Hermione said, her voice slightly hoarse as her eyes began filling. “I’ll take you to Godric’s Hollow.”

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They reappeared in Godric’s Hollow, in the center of the town square. There weren’t many people about. There was a post office, a pub and a church with a graveyard behind it. It was a small, rather rural town. In the middle of the square was a war memorial.

Snape released Hermione’s arm and looked around, his black eyes resting on the post office.

”Come on, we can find Lily’s address there, I’m sure,” Snape said, starting to walk toward the post office.

”Professor, wait,” Hermione said.

Snape spun.

”Stop calling me, professor,” he hissed at her, annoyed because she was holding him back.

Hermione’s face was full of trepidation at what she was about to say next.

”I want you to look at his war memorial first,” she said softly.

Snape’s eyes flicked over the tall, rectangular stone structure.
”I see nothing special about it,” he said impatiently.

”You have to move closer,” Hermione said, her heart heavy.

”Fine, but this is a waste of time. I want to see Lily,” he said, stalking up to the memorial.

”I’m here. Now what? I don’t see anythi—“

He stopped talking and stared up at the memorial as Hermione looked on sadly. It had transformed. It had changed into three statues of a man, a woman and a baby in the woman’s arms. Snape stared at the stone woman, his lip trembling.

Slowly, he moved closer and read the inscription.

”Dedicated to James, Lily and Harry Potter, Who Fought the Good Fight Against Evil.”

”What—is—this?” Snape breathed, his eyes going back to Lily’s image.

”It’s a memorial to—“

”NO! Take me to Lily! I want to see Lily!” Snape cried, spinning on Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, even as she took his arm.

“All right.”

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Hermione helplessly stared down at the sobbing wizard sprawled on the ground, his hands full of earth as he lay in front of a slightly bleached tombstone. Etched on the tombstone was:

Lily Evans Potter.
Beloved Wife of James Potter
Beloved Mother of Harry Potter
January 30th 1960 – October 31st 1981

“Noooo! No! Lily! Lily!” he sobbed, digging at the earth as if trying to pull her back from the permanence of death. “Why? Why did this happen? How could it happen? He prom—he promised me she’d be mine again—“

He fell into choked sobs again, his face pressing into the earth. A medal hung from the tombstone, awarded posthumously for Lily’s service. James’ grave was next to hers, also adorned with a medal. Snape looked up at it, then launched himself at James’ grave, grabbing the medal and flinging it away as Hermione looked on horrified.

”You did this! It was you, I know it! You were always sticking your wand where it didn’t belong, you bloody arsehole! You got her killed!” he raged at the gravestone, kicking up the dirt over James’ remains. “Why did she ever get involved with you? Why?”

Snape continued to mutilate James’ final resting place until he sank to his knees, exhausted and miserable, his hands between his knees and rocking, making moaning noises. They stayed there for hours, Hermione retrieving James medal and holding it, not daring to return it to the stone as Snape mourned. Finally, the sun began to sink and dusk covered the graveyard, mists starting to rise.

”Professor, we have to go,” she said softly.

Snape looked up at her. “Go where?” he asked. “There isn’t a reason to go anywhere. She’s dead—gone.”

”You have to leave here. You can’t stay here,” Hermione told him gently.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” he hissed at her.

”Please. Don’t do this. There’s nothing you can do to change this. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry you hurt so badly—but—there’s nothing you can do—and I’m sure—“

Hermione hesitated as Snape stared up at her, his sorrow and pain so evident it made her heart hurt.

”I’m sure Lily wouldn’t want this—“

She fell silent, but her tears spoke volumes.

Snape could barely perceive the wetness and her sympathy. Slowly he stood up, looking down at Lily’s grave.

”I’m so sorry, Lily. So sorry,” he breathed, his voice catching.

Hermione walked around him and replaced the medal on James’ grave. Snape saw it, and his face contorted, but he didn’t do anything. He simply turned and began walking toward the gate, Hermione hurrying to catch up to him.

They walked silently to the square again, then Snape turned to her.

”Do you know how to get to Spinner’s End? I want—I want to see my mother,” he said softly.

Hermione stared back at him, the message in her eyes making the need for words unnecessary.

“She’s dead, too?” he asked her.

”I think so,” Hermione replied. “But you still own the house, I know that much.”

”That means my father’s dead as well. Good. Still, I want to see it. Will you take me?”

”Of course,” Hermione said, gently taking his arm.

Snape looked down at her as if finally really seeing her, his eyes drifting over her bushy hair and plain features.

”Thank you,” he muttered.

They Disapparated.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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