Entry tags:

*fic, lily, snape

Special delivery for violet_quill
Title: Simulated Love
Author: chiralove
Recipient's IJ/LJ name: violet_quill
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Severus/Lily
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: DH compliance, character death, PWP, dub-con, D/s, bondage, spanking, double penetration, sex toys
Authors notes: Huge thanks to my betas (A, S, R, C, and S), and thanks to the mods for running such a great fest! Violet, I really enjoyed writing for your prompts … I hope you enjoy this!



Bubbles began to rise to the surface just as a knock sounded on Severus's door – he snuffed out his cigarette and Banished it before throwing an invisibility spell over his desk. The simulacrum had begun to rise from the huge cauldron, frothy bubbles spilling from her face and bare shoulders. Severus froze her in place and went to answer the door.

"Professor, I had a question about the assignment–"

"I don't care if you had a cauldron explode in your face, disfiguring you and drenching an entire week's worth of essays in sulphuric acid, Miss Granger. Get out, and do not return until office hours."

He shut the door in her face, warding it heavily and leaning back against the solid wood. He Summoned his pack of cigarettes and lit another one, taking long drags on it and blowing the smoke in the direction of his waiting cauldron. It was almost finished.

With a flick of his wand, the potion proceeded apace, needing no further interference from him. Curves formed, colour bloomed, and it was done. The simulacrum rose out of the cauldron like a mermaid from the sea, riding a wave of green bubbles. Severus finished his cigarette and snubbed the ashes out with his boot heel before he strode over to the cauldron, freeing her from the potion and conjuring a large towel for her.

As he wiped the potion from her skin, he learned again the curves of her body – the freckle on her left hip, the slight curve of her belly, the swell of her breasts. In all these years, his Lily had never changed.

He wrapped her hair in the towel, leaving her body bare, and she blinked, her eyes beginning to track his movements. "S-Sev? What happened… what am I doing here?"

This was it, the defining moment of the simulacrum's new life. His heart pounding in his chest, Severus pulled her close. Her bare skin was pressed against his robes, wool the only thing that separated them. He ran a hand up her spine, and she shuddered, resting her head against his shoulder. This rough fabric would not separate them for long.

"I feel so strange," she said. "I don't… I don't remember, Sev. How–"

"Lily," he said, and it was enough – after all the urgency and all the lonely years, it was enough. He held her and kissed her quiet, forcing his tongue between her lips. Her hands went to his shoulders, holding him for a minute before pushing him away. "James… I can't–"

"He left you, Lily. Don't you remember?" Severus held her close again, tracing her shoulder-blades. He tapped in rhythm with her heartbeat, fingering her spine and playing her like a piano. "You drowned yourself in the lake. I pulled you out just in time."

Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes dark against her skin. Her hand went to her belly. "I don't… Harry–"

"He's safe," Severus said. "He's safe."

He kissed her, pressing her against the desk, and feathered his fingers over her damp skin. He stole her from James and from her own history. She clung to him and he kissed her harder before pulling back to look at her.

"You should not have betrayed me, Lily."

Before the spells solidified, before the simulacrum took a mind and a will of its own, she was pliable and open, easy to read. Her mouth fell open and she reached for him, trusting him, wanting him – Severus caught her hand and held it. He stroked the palm of her hand with his thumb, tracing her life line, and placed a kiss in the centre.

When he looked up, she was staring at him, her lips parted. She was dependent upon him already, and Severus wove the story tighter around her. "You left me for James," he continued, "and that is something that I can never forgive."

"I… I'm sorry–"

He smoothed his fingers over her curves, touching her hips and her belly. Her skin was smooth, as smooth as it had always been, and he began stroking her breasts and roughly pinching her nipples. She belonged to him now.

"Yes," he said. "Sorry. You made a mistake, you see." Severus left one bite mark on her neck and then another, symmetrical red marks just above her collarbone. She cried out and stiffened, one hand raised to push him away and the other tangled in his hair. She needed him – she needed this – and it was sweet, her body soft and pliable, molded against his. She was Severus's.

"James left you – he abandoned you and took Harry from you. I never would have done that to you, Lily."

"I… I didn't–"

Lifting her up onto the desk, Severus forced her legs apart with his thigh. Lily reached for him, her hands landing on his shoulders. He pushed her hands aside.

He kept her from touching him, from claiming him. Brushing her hair back from her face, he whispered in her ear, almost like a lover, covering her neck with soft kisses. "You betrayed me," he said, holding her in place, holding her for his pleasure, "and you'll pay for it."

He bound her in place with silk scarves. They were flimsy, conjured fripperies, bright against her skin. He brushed the fringes against her smooth neck, moving down to circle her breasts and tease her nipples with the lightest of touches. James had bought her scarves like this, ruby-red and Gryffindor gold, but when Severus conjured them, they were green and silver. His colours suited her.

Severus tied her legs, binding them to the chair, and fastened her wrists together behind her back. He tasted her neck, nipping the tender flesh at the base of her throat, and hummed when she squeaked.

Drawing back, he looked at her. Bound and waiting for him, her breasts quivering with every breath, her nipples taut and hard – she wanted him. She wanted him, and not James.

"You will love me," he said, moving close to her until his voice was a whisper against her skin. "You will be mine."

He left his marks on her then, rough bites and scratches reddening her pale flesh. She whimpered at every scratch, at the flick of his nails on her soft belly and the hard biting kisses on her shoulders. He made her feel him, made her yield to him, and each inch of skin that he claimed was one that he stole from Potter.

Severus knelt between her legs and raked his fingernails over her inner thighs. "Mine," he said again as he marked her.

Lily never protested, never struggled. She watched him with dazed eyes and whimpered when he hurt her, but he'd never given her a will of her own. That part of her was dead – she belonged to Severus now, and needed nothing other than his magic and his will.

Unbinding her, he helped her to stand and turned her around. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder blades and pressed on her shoulders until she bent over the desk, her spine arching in a lovely curve as she shuddered. Severus ran the palm of his hand over her back, calming her, and waited until she was still.

"I told you," he said as he struck the first blow, his hand landing on her bare arse. "You'll pay for betraying me."

Low in her throat, she whimpered, and the sound echoed through the room. Her red lips were parted, perfect, and Severus grew harder at the sight and sound of her. He unfastened his trousers, caressing himself as he made Lily belong to him. His hand ached with the blows before her arse turned red.

He held his sore hand in front of her mouth and made her kiss it. She licked his fingers until they were damp, and then Severus stroked her back, rubbing each inch of her spine. He bent low to blow on her dampened skin and kissed each vertebra.

"Mine," he said as he thrust his fingers into her. Her back arched and her muscles stiffened, but he clamped his other hand over her mouth. "Mine, mine," he chanted, as though it was the last step in a ritual that bound her to him.

"Mine," he said again as he slid his cock into her, pushing her into the desk. He kissed the nape of her neck, holding her hips in place and fucking her hard. She never said a word, never made a sound.

She was hot and wet around him, and Severus bit her neck hard, trying to last. Her pain grounded him and he splayed his hands on her back. Her skin was warm and damp, her arse was still pale pink from his blows, and he dug his nails into her hips as he thrust into her. Dragging the silk fringe of the scarf over her flesh, he made her cry out – her voice was low and guttural, and her fingers clenched in spasms, tightening into fists

"James never did this for you… never made you this hot, never fucked you like this."

He reached around her, pinching her nipples and twisting them until she cried out again. His breath came in short gasps as he slid into her again and again, thrusting with the rhythm of her moans. "Tell me… tell me you never did this with him."

"S-Sev… never," she managed to say. "Only you–"

"Tell me you love me, that you've always loved me."

"You… always you… harder, Sev–"

He froze, pinning her to the desk with his weight. He nipped her earlobe, squeezing the tender flesh between his teeth until she whimpered. "Say it. Say that you love me."

"Always," she said, her fingers scrabbling at the desk for purchase. She tried to thrust back against him. She struggled against his weight and lost. "Always loved you … please, Sev, please–"

He moved then, rocking on the balls of his feet and teasing her with tiny, gentle thrusts.

"More… fuck, Severus–"

Severus gave in to her then, fucking her into the desk. She shuddered and begged for more, wailing as he thrust harder and harder. He raked her back with his nails as he came. She belonged to him.

"Please, Severus–"

He turned her over, laying her flat on the desk and kissing the tears from her eyelashes. He kissed her again and again, finding each of his marks and kissing them, soothing them, before he moved up to kiss her on the lips. "Mine," he said, "my beautiful Lily."

She was warm in his arms. Her flesh was solid and smooth, her heartbeat echoed against his breastbone, her muscles trembled under his hands as he stroked her. She was his.

He kissed her and she disappeared, popping out of existence like a soap bubble.

****

There was a closet hidden in the Headmaster's office, just big enough for a tiny table and his largest cauldron. It was Severus's only refuge during his last year at Hogwarts, and he set up his cauldron there with the simulacrum potion. He sealed the room – no hint of steam from the potion, no hint of Lily, no smell of sex could escape.

The Carrows had free rein to roam through his office, running back to Voldemort with every tale – Severus could not stop them, could not appear less than loyal. He let them take their petty victories, allowed them to rummage through his scrolls and steal his whisky, but he kept the students safe and he warded his closet against them. Lily belonged to him.

He brought her out of the potion again, wiping her skin dry as he always did, and made love to her with his hands and lips before she could recover from her disorientation. She trembled at his touch, and he pressed her against the wall, holding her there with his free hand. His hand was on her breastbone, and he felt her heartbeat pounding.

The cauldron, he set underneath the table, warding it to preserve the potion inside, and he hoisted Lily up, putting her on the table and spreading her legs. Even in the dim light he could see her, spread open for him, and he grew harder at the sight, aching for her.

She opened her mouth, and Severus gagged her with a green silk scarf, tickling her neck and collarbones with the fringe. He kissed her on the cheek and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Quiet, my pet. If we're heard–"

He bound her wrists with another scarf and patted her cheek. "If we're caught, they'll take Harry away from you."

Her eyes widened. Severus flicked the tip of her nose with a finger. "You'll be very quiet, won't you? Lily-my-love, I'm the only one who can help you keep Harry… otherwise James will take him from you."

Severus could barely see her in the dim closet – he mapped her skin by touch and memory, kneading her breasts in his hands and trailing kisses down her breastbone. "I've seen the divorce papers," he told her. "James is going to take everything from you… he's left you alone, left you with nothing."

Lily clung to him, her legs wrapped around him and her mouth working against the gag. He traced the lines of her ribs through her skin, the curve of her belly and the hollow of her navel. He caressed her thighs, her wrists, her neck. "I'll never leave you," he whispered, his words muffled against her skin.

There was a sound in the office, and Severus froze. It was the Carrows. Alecto's high voice rang through the office, and her brother's rumble answered her.

Severus's Pensieve was safe, locked and warded in a drawer in his desk – they'd never find it. They'd never break through the hexes to get to it, but he was helpless, half-naked with Lily in his arms. He reached into his pocket, gripping his wand and reinforcing the wards on the closet with an unspoken spell. If they found him here…. He ran his hands up and down Lily's back, stroking her and shushing her.

He heard rattling and curses coming from his office, the rustling of Alecto and Amycus going through his papers, discovering his wards and hexes. There was nothing there, nothing that they might not see – and Severus held Lily close, trusting in the wards he'd put on the closet.

Still half-hard in spite of the interruption, his cock was pressed against Lily, rubbing against her thigh. She tightened her embrace, squeezing her legs around him, and Severus bit back a moan.

He didn't have long while the potion lasted. He didn't have much time with her.

The clink of glass and the sound of liquid being poured – Amycus had found Severus's stash of whisky, hidden in a recess just behind Fawkes's perch. Dumbledore had kept sherbet lemons there, and vial after vial of Pensieve memories. Severus had hidden them, the vials and the bright yellow sweets clinking together when he moved them to a safe hide-away. He kept the whisky there, and "secret" papers that he wanted the Carrows to find – it was his false secret, and this closet was his true refuge.

Lily was his. He ran his hands over her arms, her shoulders and her breasts. He stroked her curves, teasing her until she arched her back and clung to him.

He tasted her skin, his tongue following his fingers. She tasted like salt and sweat and a faint, floral perfume – there was no hint of the potion. She was real, and she was his.

Moving quietly, conscious of the Carrows in the next room, Severus shifted between her legs and slid into her. He muffled his moan against her shoulder, biting hard enough to bruise.

In the closet, there was no room to move. Severus rocked back and forth on his heels, thrusting into her. Alecto and Amycus snickered over the whisky, and the wards held, and Severus was buried in Lily, claiming her and remaking her. She did not belong to James, she did not yearn for her son, she lived for Severus and no one else.

He kissed her neck, sucking hard as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and twisting them until she cried out, the sound muffled by the gag. He took her fingers in his, rubbing her wrists against the scarves that bound them, holding onto her. "Mine," he whispered in her ear, too quiet to be heard by the Carrows over the sound of their voices. "Mine."

Pulling away from her, he knelt and rummaged under the table. He was hard, aching for her – he had to have her, needed to possess her completely. He would have her as Potter had not.

He found a stirring rod under the table, where it had rolled away from his supplies. He tapped it with his wand, thickening it and making it slick with lube, and brought it to her mouth. He ran it across her lips, watching the scarf turn darker green, gleaming with the lube. Her eyelashes fluttered, and he ran the rod down her body. He trailed it down her neck and circled her breasts, leaning in to kiss each nipple. He tongued them to taut peaks as he moved the dildo lower, stroking her belly and pressing it against her clit.

She shuddered when he touched her, and he nuzzled her neck, kissing his way up to her earlobe. Tugging on it with his teeth, he slid the dildo into her, fucking her with it. "Mine," he whispered again. "You'll never have this with Potter."

Lily shook her head, loose strands falling around her face. Severus brushed them away, kissing her sweaty skin. She leaned into his kisses – she wanted him.

He thrust into her, filling her completely, with his cock rubbing against the slick dildo. Her eyes were open wide and Severus pressed kisses to the delicate skin just under her eyelashes. "Mine."

They were quiet, too quiet for the Carrows to hear – safe in the dusky cocoon of the closet, safe in the strong wards, safe in each other's arms.

****

That winter, in the frost and quiet of the sleeping world, Severus went straight from Lily's arms to the forest. Phineas had found the unholy trio earlier that evening, and Severus had his duty… but he had to set a puzzle to trap Potter, and he had to have Lily's love to conjure his Patronus.

He had warded the office tight and turned the portraits to the wall – he had fucked her on the Headmaster's desk, taking her for his own. He'd spun her a story about her husband and a whore, and she'd clung to Severus and come with his name on her lips. Her eyes had gleamed when she looked at him, her lips curving in a soft smile as he held her.

Shivering in the brisk wind, he dropped the Sword into the pool and Summoned Potter with a Patronus. It was laughably easy – easier than it had ever been before. He thought of Lily, her hand in his hand, her lips on his, telling him that she loved him. She had shuddered around him while he thrust into her, and she had raked her fingers down his back. He hadn't bound her with silk scarves or held her in place with a spell, and she had opened her mouth to Severus, kissing him hard.

Severus watched Potter follow the doe, find the sword, and fumble through the puzzle. The silver doe disappeared with a pop in the night, fading like a soap bubble, fading away as Lily had.

Lily was still there when Severus returned to Hogwarts. She had faded from his arms, disappearing with the potion, but she was still there. She'd perched on the Headmaster's desk, her legs swinging in the air, and she winked at him. "Miss me?"

"You… you–"

She slipped off the desk, stepping closer to Severus. She was still naked, her skin almost glowing in the subtle hues of torchlight, and she put a finger under Severus's chin. "You thought I'd be gone," she said. "Where's my Harry? I want to see him."

When Severus dreamt, he dreamt of this. Lily faced him, and without touching her, he knew that her heartbeat was strong and her breath was warm. She was alive – no dreams were here. She stood close enough to touch him, asking him for her son, and he had no answer for her.

He kissed her. Pushing her against the wall, his fingers hard on her shoulders, his mouth on hers and his cock rubbing against her belly, he silenced her. She moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder.

"Everything I have done," he said, nipping her soft neck after each word, "everything that I have done has been for your son, and you dare to question me?"

She pulled away from his kiss, pressing two fingers to his lips. "You taste like smoke," she said. "You never did before."

She had never resisted him before. His simulacrum was grown beyond the limits of the potion, beyond his control – she was not his pliant, lovely Lily. She did not belong to him. Severus pinned her to the wall with his body, holding her there and feeling the echo of her heartbeat through his thick woollen robes. He bent to kiss the hollow of her throat, and she whimpered.

"James is going to be so angry when he finds out."

Lily was fragile in his hands – skin that could be shredded, bones that could be broken, hopes that could be crushed. She had a chain of bruises around her neck, skin memories of Severus's kisses.

"Your James is dead."

He stroked her neck, rubbing the smooth skin under his fingers, and kissed her on the forehead, just above the bridge of her nose. "You're dead, Lily. You're just a dream, and you're mine."

"No–"

"It's true." He caught her earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard enough to make her whimper. "You belong to me now."

"Harry–"

"Is still alive and well, I've not lied to you about that."

She was not alive, this was not real. The simulacrum had grown past the boundaries of the spell and potion – it was anchored to this place and these ideas. His happy memory merged with his Patronus, it was not the formless, easily banished construct that he'd created.

Severus took her by the shoulders, shaking her. She was small, her shoulders easily circled by his fingers, and she yielded to him. "Severus–"

Her lips were dark, her eyes shone in her face, and her fingers fumbled, scrabbling along his arms and trying to hold onto him.

He stopped shaking her, and she slipped down the wall, pulling him down with her. She sat and pillowed his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair. "Severus, please–"

Her voice was a breathy sigh, repeated again and again. It was like the sound of the wind in the trees. She put her fingertips on Severus's cheekbone and held them there.

The world dissolved until only the two of them were left, Lily holding on to Severus and Severus tracing the shape of her jaw and learning the flutter of her heartbeat. She was his – this Lily that he had created, she had never belonged to James. He bent to brush his lips across her forehead. "He's safe," he told her.

Severus didn't lie. He didn't tell Lily that her Harry would survive the war, that he would be a triumphant hero adored by the masses, that he would give her grandchildren with red hair and green eyes. He said nothing. He turned to face her, pressing her to the floor and covering her with his body.

There was not much time left. Potter had the sword and the final battle was near. Severus felt it. Lily was warm in his arms, somehow real and somehow substantial. He traced the crease in her forehead and the faint wrinkles around her eyes, and he felt her shudder.

"You aren't real," he told her, and she disappeared in his arms. She dissolved away, fading into a silvery mist – she faded until she took on the shape of his Patronus, silvery and insubstantial, and then she faded away to nothing.

The potion augmented by his spell, by his Patronus, had lasted. It had brought Lily back to him and given her some semblance of herself. He'd had her in his arms again and he'd told her the truth, though not all of it.

It was not enough.

****

Severus had taken Dumbledore's bedchamber, the highest room in the Headmaster's tower. Garish velvet hangings had been replaced with Slytherin green, and the ridiculous feather mattress exchanged for a sensible one. Even after he had changed it, even after he had removed every trace of Albus, Severus could not sleep.

He dreamt of Lily, of her fingers laced with his when they were children in the park, of her cold stiff fingers curled in James's hand when they were laid out, side by side.

He had visited her grave. He had warded her coffin with all the spells in his power – Potter had led her to her death, but Severus had preserved her beauty. She would stay on this earth, perfect and unchanged, for as long as he could keep her.

There was only so much that magic could do. The bone-deep chill of winter, the blaze of the summer sun, the hours that flowed on and on, time moving on without her – Severus could not stop it. He could not keep the cold from piercing the deep earth, and he could not keep her warm.

Her hand had been small in his hand, her fingers delicate and finely shaped – long fingers, a piano player's fingers, a witch's clever fingers. She had touched Potter, she had held her son, she had wielded her wand in war and at home, and she had held Severus's hand once. He rubbed his fingers on his pillow, rubbing her warmth into them.

Potter had the sword, and Severus's task was almost done. Lily – she would never need to know that her son had sacrificed himself, she would never–

She slipped into the bed behind Severus, her warmth pressed against his back, and she kissed his neck. "You're thinking too much."

Rolling over, Severus pinned her to the bed. "Lily–"

"You thought of me and I came," she said, kissing his chin. "It's that simple now."

Lily was boxed up in a cedar coffin, her hair splayed out on white velvet. She was next to her husband, next to her parents, cold in the ground. "You aren't real," he told the simulacrum.

Her lips curved in a large smile, and she pressed her body against his. "You summoned me," she said.

Her heartbeat fluttered under Severus's fingers, and he bent his head to kiss her, stroking her lips with his tongue until she opened to him and kissed him back.

They moved together. She slipped his nightshirt aside, and he slid into her, and it was the rhythm that they knew, the slide of their skin together and the loss of breath in gasps and kisses. He kissed her – the crease of her wrists, the corner of her mouth, the bridge of her nose and the hollow of her neck – he kissed each inch of sweaty, salty skin, and she was his.

Lily wrapped her legs around him, arching up into his touch. She raked her fingernails down his back as he thrust into her, and she pulled him down to her, kissing him on the mouth. "Love me," she said before their lips touched. "Make me forget."

Severus forgot himself when he was in her arms. He forgot her son and his death, forgot Albus and the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters and the Order. The torchlight cast a warm glow on the planes of Lily's face, highlighting the flutter of her eyelashes as he thrust into her, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He kissed them, the wrinkles that she would have earned if she had lived.

She gasped his name when she came, her muscles clenching around him, and Severus stole it from her, kissing it from her lips. She'd never said his name like that – she'd never chosen him. She chose him now.

Severus thrust into her as he kissed her, and it was enough. As he came, he Banished her, and her warmth around him vanished, and his come spilled onto his black sheets. He Banished it, and all evidence of her presence was gone. She was gone.

Pressing his fingers to his lips, Severus touched the skin that she had kissed. He fell asleep then, curled on his side around the place where they had lain together, and he did not dream.

There was no space for dreams in the morning – the final battle had come, and when Voldemort summoned him to the Shrieking Shack, Severus knew it was time.

He had not kept his promise to Albus. There had been no time to find the boy and tell him. Severus met the Dark Lord's gaze without letting his shields falter, without flinching. He had faced Albus like this, time after time, and he had deceived the Dark Lord until now.

He had not kept his promise to Lily – she was gone, faded into mist like his Patronus. There was no way for him to save her son and no way for him to see her again. He balled his hands into fists. She had touched him, she had saved him.

It was too late for him to save her.

All her memories, all her dreams – Voldemort spoke, and they were shattered. He lived, and her death was for nothing. It was too late, and all of Severus's pleas, his offer to find Potter and bring him before the Dark Lord, came to nothing. He had failed.

The instant that Nagini's cage started to move, Severus knew it – no death in battle, no death like Lily's.

He was not good enough to die a hero's death like Potter. The cage closed in over his head, and the snake swayed closer to him, surrounded by the glittering sphere. "Kill," Voldemort said, and the snake struck.

Lily had wrapped a scarf around his neck, Slytherin green, even before they had gone to Hogwarts. They had shared winter together, and he'd watched the snowflakes kiss her cheeks. He had wanted to kiss her.

He had bound her with silk scarves, he had hurt her, he had loved her – Severus's fingers went to his throat. Through the haze of his shields, he felt the pain.

The three of them came when Voldemort had gone, Potter kneeling next to the pool of blood. Severus reached for him, but his hand fell short. He had to tell the boy.

Memory after memory spilled out of him, and Severus felt too thin, stretched out of time and place. The holes in his memory gaped and grew, emptiness consuming him. He had nothing – Lily was not his–

For the last time, he reached for Potter. He saw Lily's eyes, Lily's smile, Lily's blood.

She had lived and died, he had conjured her and she had come to him, she had loved him. A bubble burst in Severus's throat and he coughed up blood, gasping as he grasped Potter's hand. Lily had loved him.