He was unsure of where he had wandered, of where he stood now, but the castle’s usual noise had died when his feet caught the stone of the room’s floor. Severus Snape looked about him, attempting to regain his bearings.
The room was lit only by two lanterns hanging from the ceiling; their light was dull and insufficient, and Snape could not see very far into the room. What he could see gave the impression of prolonged abandonment. Sheets hung across old desks and podiums and furniture, and spiders had woven intricate ropes between the walls and covered objects. The room had no windows, nothing to let in the outside world.
Snape pulled his wand from the folds of his robes and muttered, “Lumos.”
The room was suddenly bathed in fresh light, and Snape noticed one large, sheeted treasure on the other side of the peculiar room. It was shaped like a doorframe, and Snape furrowed his brow to contemplate how one would manage to drape cloth over something carved from the wall. Curiosity aroused, Snape strode forward and pulled the cloth from where it hung.
His wand clattered to the floor as the cloth fell away, revealing Lily Evans on the other side of the frame. She stood smiling, red hair falling around her cheeks in waves. One hand was raised as though reaching for Severus, beckoning him to join her in the second room. Her green eyes were aflame with the passion he had always yearned for her to see him through. Dumbledore lied, thought Snape rapidly, lied to teach me a lesson. He listened to me; he saved her, kept her hidden. And he didn’t tell me so I would learn what it is to feel true loss…but she’s here…and she’s mine…
He smiled and reached a hand out to finally join his love, to again feel true happiness…
…but his hand crumpled against glass before it could reach Lily. He was bemused momentarily, for Lily still watched him and seemed so real, yet he could not penetrate the space between them. Then his desperation grew, and Snape found himself pounding against the glass, sure that he would break through any moment.
“That will not help, Severus,” whispered someone from a corner of the room.
Snape turned to find Albus Dumbledore watching his attempts to reach Lily. His robes were a royal purple, and the half-moon spectacles had slid even farther to reveal the full force of his gaze. One hand stroked his long beard slowly. “She’s there, Dumbledore! I can reach her! Help me!” But Dumbledore did not stride forward, and he did not cast the barrier aside as Snape was so convinced he would be able to. “Help me,” pleaded Snape once more.
“She is not there,” said Dumbledore with sorrow in his voice. “It is only your deepest desire that you see within the mirror. Lily Potter””
“DON’T USE THAT NAME!” shouted Snape, his heart crying out for some secret clue that she had only loved him, and not Potter.
“”died three years ago with her husband,” continued Dumbledore as though Snape had not interrupted. “This mirror is a cruel benefactor, one that will torture you with ‘ifs’ and ‘if-onlys’ that can never be fulfilled.” He placed a hand cautiously on Snape’s shoulder. “Trust me,” he whispered, and Snape fell to the ground and began to weep. The faux Lily knelt down and smiled, as though it would help her old friend’s troubles.
“It…hurts so much,” he cried. “How do I live knowing that she is gone?”
Dumbledore’s words were directed to Snape, but his eyes were upon the mirror. “The same way others live with loss. You must let it define the rest of your life without allowing it to have full reign over your soul. It is a very precarious line to walk, but I have faith in you, my friend.”
The words brought Snape a sense of peace, and after a few moments he was able to compose himself and stand. Dumbledore still watched the mirror, though it was doubtful that he was witnessing Lily in love with him. Tears had begun to well in the blue eyes. “Sir?” asked Snape. “What do you see in the mirror?”
The old man wiped the water from his face. “I see three people whose lives I ruined.”
Snape had enough tact to avoid the subject. Instead he professed his deepest concern: “She was better off without me, wasn’t she?”
Dumbledore turned to take in Snape. “She was never without you, Severus.”
From within his purple robes he produced a picture that Snape had only seen once before. It was an enchanted photo, of a second-year Lily Evans posed happily with her arms around a sheepish Snape, whose cheeks were red and face was twisted in a smile. Snape turned it over to find the words Me and Sev scribbled in one corner. He had to shift it quickly so his watery eyes would not tarnish the surface of such a valuable artifact. Snape looked up to the Headmaster. “Where did you find this?”
Dumbledore sighed. “I volunteered to oversee the recovery of possessions from the Potter house, where I found many interesting trinkets that other witches and wizards would have been envious to know existed. But this picture…it was found in Lily’s pocket the night she laid down her life for her son.” Dumbledore began to walk to the door, saying as he went, “Lily Evans carried with her the piece of you she loved the most, the piece she hoped you would someday become again.”
At these words, Snape took one last look at the mirror. Lily was no longer smiling, but her cheeks were stained with trails of water as one hand reached out to touch him. Snape mirrored her motion and their fingertips touched, save for the glass that had been forced between them.
“Forever,” whispered Snape, and he too turned and left the room.