Disclaimer: I am rightfully entitled to neither the Harry Potter series nor the subsequent lyrics contained in this story.
"On the first page of our story,
The future seemed so bright.
Then the same turned out so evil;
I don't know why I'm still surprised.
Even angels have their wicked schemes;
And you take that to new extremes.
But you'll always be my hero,
Even though you've lost your mind."
Skylar Grey, "Love The Way You Lie"
~Curtain Call~
When Severus discovered the emerald green robes upon his bed, he didn't have to think twice about from whom they came.
He tried his damnedest to make himself as discreet as possible as he watched her walk into the Hogsmeade clothing shop, casting nervous glances over her shoulder, clearly fearful of being spotted, or worse—followed.
There was, to a certain degree, nothing at all curious about her apprehension.
Severus had seen her feigning sickness to her boyfriend for roughly a week. Ignorant to her intentions at the time, he battled the sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach knowing she wouldn't welcome his aid. His accursed tongue had severed their relationship. Severus remembered staring at her across the Great Hall, his hands gripping silverware so tightly that it was a miracle the utensils hadn't popped in two, as it wrapped a protective arm around her waist and leaned in to better discern her whispers.
James Potter didn't deserve Lily Evans. It didn't deserve to lay a single filthy finger on someone so pure. It was arrogant, attention seeking, vile, deluded, incapable of understanding that even it capabilities had limits.
It's a shame his werewolf mate hadn't yet ripped it to shreds.
Potter's deluded sense of self-entitlement would surely get it killed one day.
Which, alright, really wasn't regrettable.
But why should she have to go up in flames with it?
Severus had put two and two together one day in Charms, overhearing Black snarl, to a whimpering Pettigrew, "keep your mouth shut," for the latter had been discovered crouching in the shadows as Sirius had sworn to Lily, "I won't breathe a word of it to James, I swear."
Gryffindors and their skewed senses of loyalty.
Why, then, did Lily Potter have an immediate need for robes so closely to graduation? Potter constantly doted on her. Her family wasn't disadvantaged. She liked handling matters in a timely fashion—she wasn't a procrastinator.
It was because of him.
Their last, publicly heard of conversation hadn't exactly gone well.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not interested."
…
"No—listen, I didn't mean—"
"—to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"
It wasn't common knowledge, but they'd spoken since then.
Granted, he'd reduced himself to a groveling dog, pleading for her forgiveness some ages later, down a secluded alley in Hogsmeade on a snowy December morning.
Lily lashed out without warning, making Severus cringe at the reality of a friendship ruined beyond repair. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shouted at him, as if yearning to give away their position, wanting someone to save her from this bleeding racist she decided to oblige. Her voice was broken, swathed in near-hysteria as she once more begged an answer as to how her childhood friend could be so stupid, so foolish, so selfish as to associate with Avery, with Mulciber, with the others who practiced Dark Magic.
Lily refrained from referencing his Mudblood comments. It seemed, now, that she was more concerned with Severus's welfare as opposed to his unattractive philosophies.
He hated being reprimanded like a child—she reminded him, in that moment, of how his no good father spoke to him on the rare occasions that he bothered to acknowledge his son's existence.
And so, like a fool…Severus chose to expunge his frustration by making her seem like the twit.
He asked Lily how she could think so little of him, how she could be so naïve of the world that she failed to recognize the larger objective.
"It's the Muggles that they're after, that He's after." He blatantly lied, hating himself. "Not you muggleborns." Few Slytherins used the term Muggleborn and it fell awkwardly from his tongue. "They could destroy our world." He paused, distinctively, between each word, needing to give it the proper emphasis so as to make her understand. If one of you run back and tell them—"
"'One of you?'" Lily exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Severus, please employ the intellect your little friends haven't yet zapped from your mind! If by 'one of us', you mean Mudbloods, goes and tells our muggle counterparts of the existence of the wizarding world, what's the worst that could happen? You think my relatives will to use technology somehow to blow this world up? Or do you think they'll have me committed?"
He fidgeted under her gaze, rendered speechless.
"Well, Severus? I'm right, aren't I?"
Severus said nothing. Black eyes avoided olive and focused on the brick wall behind her head.
Lily waited in vain for either a confirmation or a denial of her assumptions. When neither came, she sauntered off in a fit of anger, or hurt, or disappointment, wiping the wetness from her face.
Her tears were more than he deserved.
Severus sits in the Great Hall. Graduates are in the center, guests seated on either side on the benches. He recognizes, in particular, three people—a married couple, the woman a blonde, the man a ginger, both looking proud beyond words. A skinny, horsey faced girl casts her eyes from one side of the room to the other, clearly scandalized at being in attendance.
His head is pounding with thoughts and this is the only reason he is able to drown out the annoyingly calm voice of the Albus Dumbledore.
But he has still retained the skill of reading lips.
"And now, our closing remarks by this class's top student, Lily Evans."
His heart constricts painfully as Lily ascends the steps. Her bright green eyes are more beautiful today than ever, red tresses curled and bouncing on her shoulders as the Headmaster shakes her hand a little too enthusiastically.
Light laughter follows this gesture, but Severus is not amused.
And when her eyes lock onto his as she faces the crowd, he fights the urge to perform an Invisibility Spell on himself.
Severus's eyes do not leave Lily's face. He watches her, he hears her speak, but he is not listening. He is more interested in why she bothered thinking of him after all this time.
She had brought him robes. Why, in sweet Salazar's name?
Had she felt sorry for making him feel like even more of an insolent fool the last time they'd spoken? Did she pity him, the loner from a poor family who was more interested in hexes and jinxes than outward appearance? Did she feel the need for mercy, for the boy from the broken home?
Did she love him?
He smirks sadly at such a ridiculous thought.
If she loved him, she would've accepted his apology.
If she loved him, she wouldn't be going out with that Quidditch player who thought it was Godric's gift to the world.
If she loved him, she would belong to him.
Did she believe him easily swayed by gift-giving?
Regardless, it is futile. It's not as if he can have a chat with Lord Voldemort and explain a sudden change of heart.
"They say everything happens for a reason and people change, like the seasons."
There Lily goes being ambiguous. Who exactly are 'they?'
But maybe she has a point. His mother always said, "If you love someone, left them go." People mature as years progress. Most do, anyway. Was it so shocking that Severus and Lily fell apart in their time away from the muggle world? Even muggles don't associate with the same people they considered friends as children. Most don't, anyway.
Therefore, these are just growing pains.
Severus doesn't know how Lily ends her speech. As the clapping dies down and people begin to stir, he stands, smoothing down the robes that still carry her scent.
"Sev." A voice whispers, so softly that most do not hear. But he does.
"Lily." He abruptly replies, weak in the knees.
She thrusts her arms around him and he embraces her without a second thought, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out like a lost child—too keep from crying out in sheer joy that she doesn't hate him.
"Happy Graduation."
They are leaving the castle, riding the boats back across the Black Lake, when it happens.
Severus despises weakness. But it hurts. It stings. It burns.
He grits his teeth. He grunts. He wants to rip his eyes out, to allow for some release.
Unconsciously, he plays with his left sleeve, exposing the reddened welts on his inner left forearm.
In the adjacent boat, Lily turns, just as he does so.
Her face contorts and his mouth becomes dry as sandpaper. He feels slightly optimistic, though, for it has dawned upon him that she only thinks he's been marked. Encouraged, he tries touching her, to make her to look again and realize that it's not what she thinks, it's just a rash.
But she doesn't.
And she doesn't cry.
Her tears are only for the worthy.
Fin.
Author's Note: I deliberately included the Evans family in this, yes. I know they're muggles, and Hogwarts usually can't be seen by muggles, yes. BUT—in COS, Riddle says, "The dead girl's parents [Moaning Myrtle's] will be here tomorrow." So, I figured, exceptions are sometimes made.