Unrequited
Disclaimer: Everything in Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling
The Quidditch pitch was pulsing with energy. Cheers and howls filled the arena. Gryffindor and Slytherin flags dazzled in the bright sun. Players on broomsticks whizzed from one side to the other.
One particular greasy haired Slytherin with a hook nose did not share the feverish excitement that had gripped the crowd. Snape was sitting in the Slytherin stand of course, with a book that he was feigning to read, his eyes always drifting to a certain red-haired Head Girl. Snape watched her as she clasped her hands together in anticipation but then a minute later, her forehead would crease in anxiety and she would chew her bottom lip. She wasn't looking at Snape but at him, that bespectacled prat who was not good enough to even touch her, fly around on that stupid broomstick, making large loops and dives.
Even amidst his own violent apathy towards Potter, Snape had to admit that Potter was a natural flier. Potter made it seem like an art with the almost lazy elegance that no other flier could accomplish. He was of course bloody Quidditch Captain too, on top of being Head Boy. His messy hair streamed in all directions as he flew around, barking out orders or shouting out encouragement to his fellow team mates whilst simultaneously playing his own position of Chaser.
Snape's stomach churned uncomfortably as he regarded Lily avidly watching her boyfriend, her eyes never straying from the bespectacled boy. Her hair had been done up for the match in wavy curls that hung gracefully over her shoulders and the mere sight of her made Snape feel sick—the fact that she would dress up for Potter's final game was enough to make him gag.
Snape's mood soured even more when Potter effortlessly threw a Quaffle through the goal ring, making the Gryffindors rise up and clap and stamp—Lily first and foremost amongst them. She was calling something out to Potter but Snape couldn't make out what she was saying. Snape fought down the urge to hex Potter into oblivion, damage and disfigure him so badly that even Lily would recoil in horror.
Snape darkly watched Potter's precious sidekick Black throw an arm around Lily boisterously and pumping a hand into the air. Two years ago Lily would have hexed him but now she squeezed his arm laughingly. The mangy werewolf on Lily's other side was more sedate, but no less bright and the short squat rat next to Black was practically wetting himself at Potter's victory.
So wrapped up in observing them that Snape missed Potter shooting another goal and it was only when Avery surlily threw down his Slytherin banner and disgustedly muttered that 'those Gryffindors bastards have bloody won', that Snape realised the game was over.
The Slytherins booed and hissed, some shouting that the game had been rigged and Snape saw with some satisfaction Potter narrowly missing a Bludger that the disgruntled Slytherin Captain had 'accidentally' released.
Potter glanced around with elation, and his grin widened even further if that was possible when he spotted Lily and blew her a kiss. Lily flushed scarlet but she smiled broadly and her beautiful emerald eyes that Snape wished would look at him, look at Potter instead with love.
With a sneer, Snape noticed Professor McGonagall quickly mask the beaming smile that spread over her normally severe face upon seeing her favourite student's victorious final match. Everyone in Hogwarts knew that Potter was McGonagall's favourite for he had brought Gryffindor to victory ever since he got on the team in second year and was her top student in Transfiguration. It seemed so unfair to Snape that Potter never lost McGonagall's high regard despite all the pranks and tomfoolery that he had done.
He glanced back at the Gryffindor stand and his eyes widened when he saw that Lily nor the other three quarters of Potter's group were sitting there anymore. Panic briefly filled him. He would not have bothered coming to this ruddy game if it meant he could not observe from afar his doe. His face rapidly scanned the crowds that were swarming onto the pitch to the sweaty victors.
There she was. Pushing her way through the horde behind Black. Black lithely jumped onto the podium, ignoring some of the Gryffindor players' looks of disapproval and clamped his best friend in a crushing hug. Snape looked contemptuously on and longed for someone to punch Black off the podium. Dumbledore said another of his odd speeches then handed the cup over to Potter who shook Dumbledore's hand vigorously and thrust the cup high into the air with the Gryffindor ribbons flying in the wind.
"POTTER! POTTER!" the hordes chanted, whistling and clapping like madmen.
"Is this how you treat your Captain?" Black roared to the Gryffindor team and to the crowd at large above the din. "He has brought you glory six years in a row—let's give him a proper send off!"
Snape rolled his eyes at Black's juvenile theatrics but Black's short speech was received by thunderous applause from the crowd and two of Potter's burliest team mates hoisted Potter onto their shoulders. Other team mates were practically falling over themselves to pat him on the back or shout good-natured jokes. Potter shook each and every one's hand with a wide smile, almost a bit dazed by the overwhelming attention.
Potter raised his hands for silence and amazingly, the crowd died down and looked on with anticipation at what Potter would say. Snape at that point wanted to hex him more than ever and envied the way that Potter could handle the Hogwarts populace with easy charisma.
"First of all, I want to give a huge thank-you to my awesome team mates who made all this possible. They endured my long trainings—often in the rain or ridiculously early in the morning—without much complaint," James said, grinning as on of his mates punched him jokingly at his comment. "No really, this team is fantastic and I cannot claim all the credit for our wins." Snape noticed Potter's eyes soften as they set on Lily. "And finally but sure as hell not last, is my gorgeous girlfriend Lily Evans who has been my good luck charm! Come on up here!"
At that, Snape's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he held out a vain hope that Lily would snap at Potter and call him an arrogant prat and then storm off. But she did not. Her face had probably gone as red as her hair but she did not look angry. The complete opposite, actually. Snape's insides twisted painfully while he watched Lily climb the podium, giggling. Without warning, Black and two other Quidditch team mates hoisted Lily into the air, making her eyes widen in surprise and brought her close to Potter.
Potter laughed, murmured something in her ear and then leaned over and kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her cheeks gently like they were alone together in a secluded place, oblivious to the hoots of the students. Snape inwardly howled and anger surged its way up his body until he was practically shaking from it.
He had remembered in fourth year at one Quidditch grand final, Lily snorting derisively as the Quidditch Captain and his girlfriend started snogging on field in front of the whole crowd and told Snape firmly that she would never consider doing such a thing, and if she did, she gave him full permission to hex her. How dare she forget such a promise! She didn't seem unhappy snogging that prat Potter, did she? She appeared quite an enthusiastic participant! Snape wanted to storm down to them and wrench them apart and shout that Lily was his, not Potter's and then hex him badly…
The couple broke apart with smitten expressions on their faces. Potter kissed her hand then enfolded it within his own while Lily tenderly righted his crooked glasses. How Snape desired to be in Potter's place and have the popularity, wealth and charms that had eluded him! Then a roar of approval ripped through the spectators and Potter, with Lily beside him, was paraded off the grounds.
Snape craned his head to get one last look at Lily and all he could see was a flash of red hair and then she was swallowed up by all the supporters, leaving Snape all alone on the stands.
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