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“Lily!”
“Go away.”
“Lily! Please, let me just-“
“No.”
“Please? Just one chance?”
“I don’t want to hear it. Leave me alone.”
He could see her walking away from him, red hair swaying behind her, up the hall, armed on each side by two of her roommates. He sneered, remembering what she had mentioned about them in passing not two weeks ago. Silly, they had been, obsessing over a new hair-curling charm. He had rolled his eyes at her proclamation, assuring her that she wouldn’t have to deal with them here, in their nest. They’d been going there for years, just the two of them, and he hadn’t realised just how much he appreciated it before now. It was out of the way, on the third floor, approximately halfway between their two common rooms, through an odd little passageway behind a large tapestry.
The tapestry depicted a beautiful princess, her bronze-coloured hair topped with a shimmering tiara. Cowering at her feet had been a black-hooded servant. Severus had mentioned, back in third year when they had first noticed it properly, that it looked like her and him. Lily had rolled her eyes, telling him not to be stupid, and that their relationship looked nothing like that. I’ve told you before, Sev, we’re friends. Total equal footing here. No grovelling allowed. He had only smirked at her as he silently disagreed. He had never been her equal, and they both knew it, under the surface.
She must have seen something in the corner, for the next moment she was turning up the tapestry, revealing a small round door behind it. Grinning at him, she had gone through it whilst ushering him along as well (Hurry! We don’t want anyone else to see!), before letting the tapestry fall back again, hiding their secret passageway from the general masses.
They had found a small, dark corridor, winding back and forth with bare walls. They walked through it carefully, not certain if it was safe for them to be there or not, until they came upon another door. What do you say? Want to check it out? She had asked him, but as he knew she would have proceeded no matter if he’d said yes or no, he merely shrugged. Behind the door they found a small, airy room. A large window displayed a view of the forest; an expansive, green mass of treetops, with snow-capped peaks on the horizon, surrounded by a blue sky. There was nothing else in the room, but it was beautiful in all its simplicity. Looking around, he noted that there were no other entrances, and that this was the end of the passage.
Under the window was a rocky ledge, just big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably. Lily had sat herself down there, gazing out the window with large eyes, and he had gingerly followed her, sitting down across from her. Then suddenly she had rounded her eyes on him, and they were glinting in that way he liked so, the way they would glint whenever she had a new idea. Tell me the story, she had said. Tell me the story of the princess and the servant. He instantly knew who she meant, and since he could hardly ever refuse her, he complied, spinning a tale of a princess and a poor servant who loved her with all his heart.
Once upon a time there was a dying king who desperately wanted an heir for his Kingdom, but despite her many suitors, no one was able to win his daughter’s heart. Many men came to her, displaying acts of great bravery as they went up against dragons, trolls and giants; showed off their brilliant minds in a battle of wits; or serendaded her with flowery poetry. They were all shown away, however, when they failed to capture the princess’ attention. One day a disappointed suitor went down to the local pub to drown his sorrows. There he met upon a servant of the King, and in his drunken state, the suitor went on and on about how beautiful and talented the princess was, yet cruel for turning him away. The servant, who had known the princess for a long time, and had loved her for nearly all of it, defended the princess with heartfelt words of her kindness, her wit, her charm and her determination to do good. The next day the suitor returned, and remembering nothing from the previous night but the servant’s words, he recounted these to the princess. The princess, touched by the words, fell instantly in love, mistaking the words as the suitor’s own. They married, and lived happily ever after, with no one but the servant knowing the real truth.
Lily had applauded the story, bowing down to his artistic brilliance: That was fantastic, Sev! I feel rather sorry for the servant though. He should have ended up with the princess, not the cheat suitor. He should have become the prince. Oh, well, that’s how stories go, I suppose. Noticing that it was nearly dinner, Severus had told her so with colored cheeks, and they had left the place with a promise to return. And you can tell me another story. We simply can’t waste that kind of talent, you see. Severus has hesitantly agreed, but only if she promised to bring some pillows and blankets (it was rather uncomfortable to sit on the cold stone for so long). It’ll be like a nest! A secret nest of … riveting tales! We can call it SNORT, for short, she had laughed as they separated for their respective house tables.
It was only when someone rudely bumped into him, almost knocking him over, that Severus realised he had been standing in the corridor much longer than was probably necessary; she had long since turned the corner. Slightly vexed, he glared after the boy that had propelled him to the side, before hitching his book bag better over his shoulder, and he started walking towards the library, his go-to place whenever Lily wasn’t around. Not that they didn’t spend their fair amount of time there together, either, but they often brought their books with them down to SNORT, and Sev had always associated the library with solitude. Silence.
Entering the large double doors at the helm of the familiar room, Severus was glad to see the very small number of people that were currently inside. He hadn’t been expecting many; it was a sunny day, and people didn’t have exams to study for, but there were usually a small handful all the same. Severus could only see two from his vantage point, and neither seemed to be much trouble. There was the snooty Ravenclaw that was always hogging the table by the Ancient Runes section, and a scrawny Hufflepuff he couldn’t remember having seen before browsing the Charms section.
Severus made his way over to his usual table, behind a few dusty Potions shelves. It was close to both the Defence and Restricted sections too, so ideally suited for his interests, and there was no window close by; he hated how the sun would come in his eyes whenever he was trying to study. Pulling out Magical Equilibrium: Balancing the Arts he resigned himself to an afternoon of reading, and pushed Lily firmly out of his mind. She had no place here among these kinds of books, these arts.
He was well into chapter three, detailing the main differences between the Light and the Dark, and the arguments and discussions surrounding this that had erupted over the course of the past few centuries, when he noticed a long shadow falling over the pages he was reading.
“Severus Snape. I thought I’d find you here,” the boy behind him said, sneering, disrupting his concentration. Severus looked up to see the spotted face of Walden Macnair looking down at him. The upperclassman was peering at him with small, dark eyes over a pointed nose, and with his slicked-back hair that made his head look abnormally small, Severus thought that he gave off the very distinct impression of a mouse. This was something he had been concluding for years now, and with a sharp twang in his chest, he realised where he had coined the term from; he and Lily had been meeting on the grounds after their first week at Hogwarts and they were discussing their new housemates. And the one that looks vaguely like a mouse? Not Pettigrew, but your guy. The titchy one. Her voice haunted him even now, and once more he tried to push her firmly out of his head. She couldn’t be here, not with Macnair standing above him, breathing loudly down the back of his neck.
Severus leaned back slightly in his seat, staring up at his new companion through the curtain of black hair hanging before his eyes.
“Was there a specific reason you were seeking me, Macnair?” he asked, making sure his annoyance at being disturbed was clearly conveyed. Macnair ignored this, smiling, and leaned back against a shelf at Severus’ acknowledgement. “Or are you just going to stand there, wasting my time?”
“Well, you see, we heard about you and that Mudblood pet of yours, and I wanted to hear for myself what had changed your mind.”
Severus stiffened slightly at the mention of the offensive word. If I hadn’t used that word, we’d be together now, down by the lake, maybe. He averted his eyes slightly, unsure of what to say. Despite what Macnair might have thought, he hadn’t actually changed his mind. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Severus tried, stalling instead.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you know who I’m referring to, Severus,” Macnair said, smiling. When Severus didn’t answer, he continued. “So, you finally opened your eyes then? Did the prig not put out for you? Not that that’s surprising exactly, but all the same … It’s a shame you kept her around for so long to no use. You could’ve shared her, even, once you’d had your go.”
Severus kept his gaze firmly on the shelf opposite him, reading the golden words on a rather large spine over and over: Keeping Cool Under Pressure: What To Do When Your Potion Boils Over. It was reassuring, he thought, knowing that he could already tell you at least ten different ways to rectify a potion that was flooding over — not that he’d ever make that mistake anyhow, unless he was thus instructed, and even then there were often more prudent ways of finishing the concoctions. He would have nothing to gain by defending her in front of Macnair, even as he felt his fists clench slightly at the chilling insinuations.
Macnair was still looking at him expectantly, and he had no choice but to bite out an answer.
“Who says we’ve broken it off?” Severus finally turned his head, and met Macnair’s skeptical eyes. “You know how those Gryffindors can be. Always so … temperamental. She’s just in a bit of a snit, really.”
“Oh? That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Yes, well, the Hogwarts rumour mill isn’t the most reliable of sources,” Severus reminded him, hoping desperately that what he was saying could actually have some truth to it. “She’ll be crawling back to me in no time, you’ll see.”
“Hmm, well … You’re talented, Severus, much as it pains me to admit it, and you could be useful. Keep that in mind if she ever tries turning you soft. And if you want my honest opinion? She’s really not worth it.”
Severus nodded, turning back to his book. It was a clear dismissal, and a couple of moments later he heard clacking footsteps walk away from him, growing weaker and weaker until it was quiet once more.
He turned back to his book, but he couldn’t concentrate any longer, and the letters were all jumbled up before his eyes. Closing them instead, he let himself remember for a moment: he saw the mischievous glint of her green eyes grin at him from under red locks, beckoning him with her down to the forest, to explore among the trees, to see how far in they would dare to go, her Gryffindor nerve would contrast with his own Slytherin self-preservation, him holding back whilst she raced ahead, and him only reluctantly following when she didn’t show signs of slowing; the sound of her voice filled his head, echoes from a time before, when there she was calling him from across the hall, the acoustics magnifying her voice tenfold,and everyone would be able to hear the way his name flowed so easily from her lips: Sev, she would say, smiling; and then the touch of her hand on his back as he crouched down by the bank of a stream during the holidays, idly swirling a twig in the murky water as he quietly recounted the previous evening’s events (the shouting, the cursing, the shrieks of pain following the whip of a slap), comforting him as no one else ever had.
Then suddenly he was down by the lake once more, shuffling his papers, and stuffing them into the heavy book bag he had slung over his shoulder, walking back up to the castle. She was down on the banks with her roommates, enjoying the sun, and he didn’t disturb her. Hopefully, they would meet later to compare notes and recount their experiences of the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam before cramming for the next one. He thought it might have been Transfiguration. She wasn’t very talented at that, so she would definitely require his help. He smiled at the prospect.
His plans were shattered at the call of Snivellus, however. He reacted at once, pulling out his wand. He had known it would happen again, eventually, and by now it had become second nature. I had been rather foolish, he barely had time to think, before his wand was wrenched from his grip, to stay so close to the group.
Just as he was lunging after his stolen wand, he froze in midair at the mercy of the Impediment Jinx, and fell to the ground with a thud. Trying to push forward, and failing, he looked up at his offenders instead, trying to thrust at them the depth of his loathing. For there Potter was, with Black beside him, coming closer and closer, identical grins on their faces, malicious intent gleaming in their eyes. They were teasing him now, insulting him and his appearance to the delight of the growing crowd. He felt an intense hatred shoot through him, and all he could think of was to get to his wand, to defend himself, to get revenge. Sputtering, he tried calling out to his wand, a desperate attempt for anything to happen, really, mixed with his fury and irritation, but all he received was a mouthful of bubbles, slowly choking him. His eyes were blurring, stinging, and the caustic solution burned painfully, but then she was there, and it was all right.
She had noticed now, she was shouting for them to stop, and he was relieved, at first. It’ll be all right now, Lily’s here, he had thought, as she stood above him, defending him from Potter, who now had that stupid grin on his face he got whenever Lily turned up. A torrent of emotions flooded through him as they argued, emotions he had no choice but to listen to, much to his dismay: intense hatred towards the laughing boys who were insulting him, humiliation at having so many people see him like this, having her see him like this, and this was only slightly softened by the fact that she was turning Potter away, and insulting him in the same go (I wouldn’t go out with you if it were a choice between you and the Giant Squid!), and he was momentarily cheered, smug at the fact that he had what Potter never could.
Then suddenly he could move again, his wand was in his hand, and a sharp jab towards Potter had blood streaking his face, and he felt dominance, and she would see that it was he who was worthy, he who was powerful. Not a moment later, however, he felt a sharp tug, and suddenly he was hanging upside down, his robes sliding up and revealing his skinny legs to a good twenty people or so, leaving him vulnerable again.
He felt the blood rush to his face, cheeks burning, and all he felt then was hate, hate for Potter, hate for Black, hate for all the other students at the school, the people who were seeing him in this state, for laughing at him, and hate for Lily for witnessing him at his weakest, for having the upper hand, emotionally, even when he knew he was being irrational.
Landing on the ground again as Potter released him (from a spell that I created, no less), he looked up at Lily again, and there she stood with her hands on her hips and eyes burning with a passion, turned towards Potter, all her focus centred on him. Then suddenly, for some mad reason, he wanted her to focus on him, like that, instead. He wished that he could evoke that kind of passion in her, so when Potter insinuated that he was dependent on her, that he couldn’t do anything without her (something he hated to admit to himself could one day be true), he spat out the word (I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!), irrational as he was, hoping she would turn her focus on him for once.
It backfired. Badly. Instead of rounding on him, letting herself feel anything for him, she retreated, and her cool detachment pierced him to the bone. Then, hardly a moment later, her focus was on Potter once more, and he was suddenly no one. A person even less worthy of her attention, and he realised he resented her for making him crave it, yet holding it from him like holding fairy eggs from a bowtruckle. He also realised that it hurt. It hurt like hell.
Slamming his book shut, Severus packed his things together, and left the library. He could just feel the start of tears pricking behind his eyes, and he knew he had to fix this, somehow. This summer. I’ll convince her this summer. Never before had he wanted a school year to end this badly.