• Chapter One: His Worst Mistake
    Tears rolling down his large nose and a clenched fist, the cloaked man staggered up the slope to the main part of Hogsmeade. Many merry drunk passersby were slurring there queries to why he was upset, he never answered them. How could he? Never would he find the right words to say what he felt, he couldn’t say anything anyway due to a tight knot in his throat. Fireworks were spiralling higher and higher over everyone’s heads with different exotic colours fitting for a happy summer’s night. But it wasn’t a happy night, not to him anyway... Doors were opening on every corner on every street in the whole of the wizarding world, joy and laughter were leaking out of every house, flat, inn. But none of it mattered to him, he didn’t care anymore... No, the only place he wanted to be was six feet under, beside her, with her forever. A memory came flying before his eyes, her smile, her hair and ringing through his ears came the hoarse voice that whispered words loud enough for him to hear outside the Hogs Head door. What a mistake, what a stupid, stupid thing to do. One small yellow light was beckoning the broken man forward, something that would take this all away, to help join with others, to wash away memories.

    Dust kicked up from the rug as he entered the Three Broomsticks, he was expecting a dramatic entry where everyone would grow silent, but this wasn’t Hogwarts. He was just another man in a bar having one too many glasses of fire whisky. She wouldn’t have liked it, not her, yes she laughed and made jokes about him at her wedding but that didn’t matter anymore. The world was spinning in a whole new direction to him and everything went slower than usual as if without her, time would never run smoothly.

    “Are you alright, there Severus? You look a little off tonight,” said Madam Rosmerta. “And on such a happy day too! Your head’s not screwed on straight.” He wasn’t listening, not really, as if he wanted to know what he looked like anyway. Black, long, greasy hair and an out of proportioned nose with eyes that could well be black holes in space. It always made him unhappy thinking about how much more attractive she was compared to him, how she was probably too good for him. Surely that wasn’t true? Beauty comes from within doesn’t it? But what a dark ugly creature that boils under his skin. How could he be attractive in any way, shape or form if he is such a beast all together? Seeing the odd pair of eyes looking at him every now and again made him know he had outstayed his welcome at this pub for tonight.
    “That will be all,” throwing a small selection of coins from his robes onto the counter.

    “You’re welcome,” was Rosmerta’s reply but he knew she didn’t really mean it.

    Leaving the pub with a pronounced frown on his face, he dusted the rug again with the long black cloak draped over his shoulder.
    It was colder out on the streets now. He clearly hadn’t had enough to drink; he knew this because he could still walk in a straight line towards the next bar. This less cheerful bar was more familiar to him. The hoarse voice whispered in his ear again. He shook his head in the hope that it would subside, but he had no pensieve to withdraw the memory now. Taking one long glance up the dusty staircase gave him a shudder up his spine. Looking away quickly, he ordered another 6 glasses of fire whisky. This had done the trick. He couldn’t even stand up without Mr Dumbledore grabbing hold of his wrist to steady him. Once again he knew he had out stayed his welcome when a hooded man began fidgeting with a catering knife. Thanking the barman (Mr Dumbledore) for the drinks, he staggered wildly to the sort-of direction of the door.

    However drunk Snape seemed to be, he was still as miserable as a child stuck indoors on a rainy day. Scuffing his shoes on the uneven ground, he searched for yet another bar. The drinks hadn’t quite worked. One hot tear swelled in his eyes. Don’t be ridiculous you’re a man who is teaching children to be strong. Just because the one you loved is dead doesn’t mean you should cry like a baby. Thinking about these unhappy thoughts seemed to amplify his sadness so... He was screaming, rolling on the ground, shouting her name “EVANS!”

    “You seem uneasy there my lovely gentleman,” said a strangely seductive female voice.

    “Evans? Lily Evans?”

    “I am whoever you want me to be and more,” the voice replied again.
    Soon came a whirlwind of colour, fragrance like honeysuckle and the occasional gasp of thrill coming from both the woman and him. It stopped... a person heavily breathing was nearby, did he want to move? No. He was fine here. He was absolutely... WHAT!?
    Bed covers were sliding off the other person’s body to reveal the woman he had met last night. He was sober now he could tell, and was regretting more and more by the second. A street lamp outside silhouetted her naked body with two bizarre lumps on her back; they were stump-like shapes. He also got up and a strange power was calling him towards the mysterious stranger. One hand he wrapped around her waist, and with the other hand he caressed her stumped back.

    “Be careful there Wonder-man,” she exclaimed with a dab of pain in her voice.

    “Sorry, no really I am sorry... Oh God, what happened? Well I can work out what happened and I am so, so sorry about that...”

    “You’re wasting your breath. ’No use apologising to a degraded slut.”

    “I’m an outcast you see. No soul that shares my species can ever forgive me from what I did. So, they tore off my wings and exiled me. Yes I am a fairy, not one of those measly creatures you use in your potions professor Snape but the actual lost species of human kind, found on the deep lakes of Italy.”

    “I will pay for inconvenience.”

    “It’s on the house. Or it may turn out to be a little more than you bargained for... Farwell... for now.”