'People can say all kinds of things without ever opening their mouths' - Noah Hawley, Before the Fall
Through all his bullying, James succeeded at creating the same emotion in Severus: humiliation. He was exposed and embarrassed. However, this time had to be the worst. Severus hung upside down, the blood rushing to his head and bile strangling his throat. He tried to cough it away, but only managed sharp splutters. With few options in escaping, Severus resorted to willing the panic away: clenching his eyes shut and hiding within himself. He envisaged a reality where he was not being levitated upside down. Instead of the chants of the Marauders, Severus clung to the steady playing of Bach – Aria from the Goldberg Variations, to be exact. Even if it only worked for a moment, for that moment he found some peace.
When the spell broke, Severus threw his arms in front of himself, failing to shelter the likely-bruise-inducing fall. His body folded and rolled to a stop on the slope. Instantly, Severus used any remaining energy to pull his clothes back into place, covering himself once more. Now he could finally be still, so let his head rest against the ground and lay in a crumpled, foetal position. At that point he could not bear to face the laughing and bellowing voices behind him, so instead he peeked at the strands of grass in front of nose and counted. Upon reaching one hundred and twenty-nine, he realised the gathering of students had left him alone.
Severus carefully eased himself to sit up. A heavy dizziness suddenly pulled him back down, and then his throat returned to its splutters and finally he coughed up his lunch. Grimly wiping away the drops of vomit on his chin, Severus moved himself slowly and carefully down to the lake, cursing his lack of wand. Of course, they had taken it – thankfully, he was not incompetent without magic. There he remained on his knees, washing the sweat and dirt from his face before moving on to the blood trickling down his cheek. It took a little while to find the source. It was at the top of his head, and the injury presumably came from when he fell to the ground; he must've hit something sharp – a stone, perhaps?
Accompanied once more by his imagined piano, Severus tended to the injury, resorting to using a tissue dampened slightly. When the bleeding seemed to be stopping, he noticed a figure returning down the hill from the school. Once Severus recognised it to be James Potter, he turned his attention to the ground and willed the boy away. He could not bear any further torments from him that day. Surely, he could not wish to hurt him further? Had he not gone far enough already?
When James arrived in the form of a looming shadow, Severus slowly glided his eyes up the boy stood in front of him. Judging by his body language, James was not entirely comfortable. His ordinarily confident stance was replaced by something far warier.
"Are you-" James stuttered. Severus furrowed his eyebrows and waited for him to continue. James licked at his lips and tried again.
"Are you alright?"
"What, besides the verbal abuse and damaged skull, Potter?" he spat in return. That spar took more effort than he expected, and he lowered his gaze again, reducing the number of senses he had to keep in conflict with the boy. James was quiet then noted-
"You're bleeding."
"Eyes working then." He twisted himself away from James. Clearly the boy was not seeking a fight, so would hopefully leave if Severus just ignored his attempts at pity. He was certain it would not be true pity – Black, Lupin and Pettigrew were likely lurking behind Potter, just waiting to jump out and laugh at Severus for accepting James' feigned actions of assistance.
"Can I help?" asked James. When Severus did not reply, he stepped closer and moved to inspect the injury. Severus flinched away and growled-
"Leave it, Potter."
"Just let me-"
"I said leave it!" This time James flinched, taken aback by the shout. He stood for a while, deliberating what to do. Acutely aware of James behind him, Severus focussed simply on not stuttering, on not breathing too heavily and on not crying.
"It's bleeding still," James protested quietly.
"It's not still- oh." Severus found the tissue he had been holding now totally soaked in blood. Clearly it had not stopped as he had hoped before. When he patted at his head again with a new tissue, the second one become immediately coated. Severus grumbled as he reached around for his bag. James picked it up for him and handed it over. Severus furiously ignored him.
"Do you have something in there for head injuries?" James peered over Severus' shoulder and into the bag. He was unsurprised to find it full of vials and ingredients. "If you don't, I could always-"
"You're not healing me, Potter. Get it out of that pitiful brain of yours."
"Please, it's awful Sniv- Snape."
"No. Leave me- alone-" The statement tripped over in the stuttered beginnings of revealed emotion. "Leave me alone." His words barely audible, Severus bowed his head against his knees.
James watched awkwardly as Severus' back shook. The boy was not crying, but the motion was that of someone unmistakeably broken. James stepped forwards again and lowered himself to his knees, ignoring the mud now painted on his trousers.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. As if tending to a wild animal, James raised his wand in a slow motion and mumbled the necessary healing spells. Severus froze, waiting for the strike that would never come. It turned out that James held no hostility or intent to harm - he simply performed the required charms.
"Tergeo." At his words, the blood clinging and drying in Severus' hair and on his face elegantly moved upwards in a stream to James' wand. It was rather beautiful, if you ignored the reason for it. When Severus remained still under his ministrations, James continued. Next was to heal the wound. With as much focus as he could manage, he cast the spell.
"Vulnera Sanentur." Severus cried out as a searing pain shot by his temples and up to the gash on his scalp. Whilst the skin pulled itself together again, Severus screwed his face shut and chewed his lips as he strained against the pain shooting through him and tried to remain as silent as possible. The piano hammered in his unheard voice, begging for a crescendo of agony, but he kept the melody within.
"Snape?" inquired James once he had finished. He tilted his head down to gage Severus' reaction. Severus did not move, nor did he speak. Once more, James had caused him to experience those agonising emotions: he was humiliated, exposed and embarrassed. On top of all that though, he was awfully hurt, conflicted and aware of how broken he felt.
"Snape, I'm sorry." The apology was soft. Its tenderness was true. James was not mocking Severus – he would not heal him as a joke. James truly wanted to help.
With the realisation came the first tear. A solitary thing that rolled down his cheek in replacement of the blood earlier. Severus hunched further down, hair dancing in the mud and back shaking once more. An arm wrapped round him and Severus felt James pull him to his chest, Severus' head tugged to James' collar. Silent tears dampened James' shirt, but he showed no worry for that. He showed no worry for the fact that the 'greasy, foul' boy he usually terrorised was now curled against him. Instead, James sat in the quiet and listened to the internal playing of Bach, watching over the lake as his hand drew careful circles at the top of Severus' back.
Neither realised how long they spent there. Even when the tears had stopped, Severus remained curled against James and James remained drawing small circles on Severus' jumper. However, daylight dimmed as clouds took over, and it seemed nature intended them to return to Hogwarts, for it then began to rain. Severus moved in a stiff action, pulling away from James. Still he could not bear to look at him. Could not manage the emotions he knew would meet his eyes. Somehow James's sympathy was almost as unbearable as his spite.
When Severus tried to stand, his legs were far too unsteady and he slipped backwards slightly, catching himself with a hand in the mud.
"You've lost a lot of blood," reminded James. Severus screwed up his lips and reached for his bag once more. When he could not find the vial he was searching for he announced-
"I shall have to brew some more blood replenishing potion."
"Don't be absurd," laughed James, but not in humour. It was a laugh of shock. "That takes hours, and in this weather-" Severus closed his eyes and listened to the music for a moment. His head was rushing and thoughts bumbling. Of course he couldn't brew a bloody potion to heal him. He'd have to walk.
"That's pure ideocracy," murmured James. Now he spoke in humour. Severus opened his eyes and glanced near to James with an attempt at a smile. Really, it was just a less horrific frown than before.
"Come," announced James, rising to his feet and pulling Severus and his bag with him. Severus gasped and stumbled, nearly pulling James back down to the floor, though James remained firm and clung to his arm and shoulder.
"I will not be carted up the hill," grumbled Severus, trying to pull out of his grip. Much to his annoyance, there was no way he could stand by himself, and Severus found himself forced to allow James to hold him steady. When James felt Severus' acceptance, he readjusted his arms a little more snugly, holding beneath Severus' arm and about his chest. Severus let out a sharp breath then, still without looking to James, took a shaky step forwards to start their return to the castle.
When the rain grew a little heavier, James tried to cast a drying spell, but they simply would become wet again as the shower continued.
"I could try a weather-modifying charm?" he suggested.
"Absolutely not," responded Severus. "You'd make it snow, or thunderstorm, or raise a tornado."
"You show no confidence in my abilities, Snape," muttered James, shifting the arm holding him in an attempt at a nudge. Severus hummed – of course he didn't. James was reckless at the best of times. You know, ignoring the fact that he just rather successfully healed quite a nasty head wound.
"Why not transfigure an umbrella?" offered Severus.
"What's an umbrella?" frowned James. Severus sighed and decided against that idea. There was no amount of explaining that would allow James to create the Muggle item. The pair continued their ascent to the castle. Due to the rain, they were the only ones about. It would be true to say that both were thankful for that. James was not sure what he would do if Remus or Sirius were there in front of him. Would he still hold to Severus?
James watched how Severus grimaced with each step he took, and cursed himself again for all the pain he had caused him. There was no taking back what he had done. James looked up to the scar on his cheek, and to the new one on his head. To the bend in his nose from when James had broken it too many times. How is it that he, only now, realised what an arse he had been?
"Ah!" yelped Severus as James tripped, not watching where he was walking, and allowed Severus to fall too. In their joint motion, they tumbled to the ground, and the arm that had been steadying Severus was now trapped underneath him and the owner of said arm collapsed on top of him.
"Potter," muttered Severus. The boy grunted and squinted at him, tugging his arm free to rub at where he had knocked his head. Severus tried again. "Potter."
"Hmm," James mumbled, still blissfully unaware. Their position – James flat on top of Severus – transitioned to one that had been awkward to one uncomfortable more for the reason that Severus was now struggling for breath. The fall had taken it out of him and being squashed by James truly was not helping.
"Potter, I can't breathe." At that, James widened his eyes to see and realised the situation.
"Sorry," he squawked, rolling off suddenly so he was on his back beside him. "Sorry." They both lay there as Severus caught his breath, letting the cold rain wash off their embarrassment.
"I am sorry, Snape."
"It's fine, really. That fall was nothing compared to earlier."
"Yeah. It's that which I am apologising for – well, for all of it. Today, yesterday, last week, last month; Every time, every blasted time I hurt you. For every taunt and prank and curse and punch and call and-"
"Stop," insisted Severus harshly.
"-and name, comment, shove, declaration-"
"Stop!" James hushed. "I don't need an apology." Severus rubbed at his face with his hands, and turned to look to the boy beside him. If it hadn't been raining, he would've noticed the tears James held in his eyes.
"Actions speak louder than words." Severus decided that was the most suitable thing to say. For James, it was a new saying – a Muggle idiom he had not heard of before – and it took him a little while to figure what it meant, in the grand scheme of things.
"Your apology was in helping me," Severus sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes to the falling rain again. "Now, your apology can be in leaving me alone." James turned to Severus, slightly betrayed. However, he quickly realised Severus meant for him to stop tormenting him rather than leave him right this second.
"Oh. Yes," he agreed quietly. "I'll stop. Merlin, I'll make everyone stop: Sirius, Remus, Peter even. No-one will bully you again, I'll see to that."
"No more Snivelius?"
"No. Never again," James stated adamantly. "In fact – could I – would you let me – might I call you Severus?"
"Does that mean I must call you James?" he gently pondered.
"Yeah," he answered with a little smirk. Severus opened his eyes and looked over to find James watching him intently. Seeing his smug face, he couldn't help but share in the smirk.
"We should get back to the castle," insisted Severus, inspecting the dark hair plastered to James' forehead (and imagining how he certainly looked just as bad, or even worse).
"Exaresco," attempted James. Severus was thankful for the drying spell, even if its effect was only temporary in their case. In a few fumbled actions, they managed to stand again, James hauling Severus' bag onto his own shoulders and wrapping a familiar arm around him. They were thankful for the dim afternoon light that their flushed faces and red eyes were not too noticeable.
Indeed, they made quite the couple, stumbling back to the castle with an arm around the other's shoulders, caked in mud and water. Despite that, they were undeniably happy. It wasn't joy or euphoria – it was simply a new-found peace. Each muted smile held the reminder that things weren't great… but they would be getting better.