Chopin's Nocturns
Disclaimer: Ownership shouldn't exist…but it does; just not for me.
Summary: AU Lily and Severus one-shot (perhaps). Lily regrets her attitude towards Sev and invites him to their old haunt…set one year after graduation.
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"I waited for you today…but you didn't show," I whispered into the darkness. "Why…?" I must have looked a state – eighteen, curled up in bed, crying – repeating his name…a bad case of teenage infatuation would be any bystanders immediate conclusion.
But this pain…how could anyone dare suggest it was simple infatuation? I had known him my whole life. It was so much more than fluctuating limerence – this pain was too terrible to endure.
I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling.
A year had passed since graduation – of course I had expected things would change…and I hated it. I loved the clique I was in; I had a supportive boyfriend, James and Hogwarts was my life. I would embark on an amazing journey and rediscover myself…the thorn in my side was my best friend. Severus Snape.
Throughout my gap year journeys, across mountains to see giants, to Bulgaria to meet a very famous wandmaker (Gregorovitch), to odd, dark corners in Albania where rumours involving 'pure evil' shuttled about…I returned more confused than when I had set off. I returned alone.
It was in our final year at Hogwarts that I started noticing things were becoming strained between Severus and myself. My best friend…slowly drifting away…becoming more and more withdrawn. It was that terrible flaw in my character that I made it about me. Stupid, stupid self-absorption…suddenly his silence was because of me, his isolation, his odd comments about death, about the dark arts – all because of me.
Of course, in my ignorance, I got angry. I decided to confront him, alone, as we walked across the grounds one blustery day. He would not respond.
"Why?" He had asked me, something of the old Severus making him curious.
"Because you've changed! You've become…weird."
"You mean an… 'odd-ball'?" He used James' word for it.
"You know what I mean! How can you deny you've stopped talking? I've tried to put up with it but…"
"Stop…shrieking," He had closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, and I fumingly obliged, eager to finally have some answers. "Has it not occurred to you to ask me…how I am?" I was stunned into silence.
"What? I ask you how you are all the time! How can you…?"
"No. I meant ask me for real. Not from the force of habit, not to seem more…caring in front your dear Potter," Scorn highlighted every word, "I mean ask me truly…"
"How dare you! I…"
"When was the last time we've been alone to talk?" He interrupted. "Or the last time we've spoken about a subject other than schoolwork or dissecting Potter's frankly detestable personality?" I opened my mouth and closed it – I couldn't remember…guilt fanned the fires of my rage.
"You are unbelievable! I think James is right about you – he's been right all along! You're just another slimy Slytherin waiting to curse us all to the ground! You're just jealous – I can't believe I didn't see that before!" I waited for his retort. We had stopped walking and were facing each other – I had never seen him look so outraged. But then, slowly, his breathing evened out…he turned towards the forest, towards the heavy purple-black clouds above, and smiled.
I had never seen him smile like that; usually it was a sarcastic sneer, an insolent, somewhat ironic twitch of his lips…this smile…it was sad. And his eyes, watching the forest…when had they become so haunted looking, so distant…when had they lost their intensity, to look so pained…?
"Did you know Lily," He said softly, in a raw, unfamiliar voice, "that six months ago my mother died? She's been ill for some time now. It was a harsh lesson to learn, you know – that there are some wounds that even magic won't heal," He suddenly pressed his hand to his heart and – without glancing at me – he walked away.
The ominous clouds above rumbled…raindrops began to fall…I couldn't move. I realised what I had done. I had become what I had always scorned…a typical Gryffindor. Belligerent, gregarious, unfeeling, arrogant…I suddenly understood myself with a clarity that shook me. All those months - I had been pushing him away, he, the symbol of my better self and solemn reminder of what I once was.
But somewhere along the line Severus had become my past; I had tried to become more like James – less introspection, less thought – more fun, fun, fun…every time I felt I was being shallow (laughing at James' pranks, chatting about inane, thoughtless things) especially in front of Severus, I had excused myself mentally, thinking I was being young, less "serious".
Perhaps all these thoughts come with hindsight – perhaps what I really thought, as I stood there, alone, the rain soaking me through, was how much Severus meant to me…and how I had never expected him to leave me. My constant, serious, brilliant companion – how could he just…go? I meant too much to him, surely…
And this was my error. My mistake; the arrogance – I smiled through my tears – the stupid, obvious arrogance, to make me think I was worth enough to him for him to forgive my mistakes, my flaws…surely he would come back to me, surely he would take the first steps to reconciliation…
He never spoke to me after that; I saw him in the Great Hall at meals, in the few lessons we shared and then in exams. He spoke to few – Sirius' little brother, sometimes Malfoy…and became more and more withdrawn.
After graduation he vanished. I admit it now – I was too ashamed to try and find him…two months after graduation I broke up with James. I told him we needed space – that we should travel, see the world before committing to each other. He had agreed, with a grin – he'd been thinking the same thing apparently.
And I…hated him for it.
And yet, to my utter surprise, I couldn't care less about a future relationship with him. I hated him for other reasons…for wasting my time, and energies. I hated him for drawing me away from the greatest man I had ever known – I hated him because he wasn't Severus.
But I will not blame James…it was my fault. Severus had needed me. I had let him down. I had betrayed him; my one, true friend.
More tears rolled down my cheek, onto my pillows – a damp patch beneath my head.
Finally, I had shelved my pride and admitted it. It was my fault. Everything.
So I had written him a letter – long, explanatory and awful. Something ridiculously sentimental and awkward; he would have hated that letter with a passion. I burnt it and, instead, sent a note by owl:
Severus,
Please meet me at the park at sunset, ---day.
I miss you,
Lily
The park…our childhood haunt. I hoped he remembered what happy hours we'd spent there…playing had, chatting about magic, famous wizards and dark tales of old…
I wondered if he remembered as clearly as I did the way he held me when my parents had a row…and how he had said, so gently, "At least they make up in the end." His arms were around me, his face against my hair…we were fourteen…and I asked him to promise me we'd be friends forever.
Had he really agreed to meet me? Maybe it had been a dream…a very convincing dream…the note he sent back was scrunched up in my hand.
Yes
He didn't show up. How could I blame him…? A year with no contact and then, suddenly, the girl who had taken advantage of you for years wanted to meet up again…of course he didn't come. What hurt – what really hurt – was that I had a piece of paper with his quick, close script…his handwriting was nearly always unintelligible…with confirmation.
Had he changed into some sort of sadist? It was sadistic to do this to me…to build my hopes up and send them crashing down like this…
I was thinking of stupid things at that moment…of sharp object against my skin, a release…no one was home – Petunia had another date with her oafish boyfriend (Vernon something) and would probably spend the night at his place. My parents were on a spur-of-the-moment trip to Paris to ignite their ailing love life (my dad would probably find the only English café in miles and smoke there whilst my mother went shopping for expensive perfume and lingerie she would never wear).
I was alone…I could…get a release…it would only be once…and then maybe again, just so I wouldn't forget…
I heard a knock from downstairs on the front-door.
Three solid knocks.
I wiped my face a little; so Petunia had come back early. Figures.
I walked downstairs and called out that I was coming; I was slightly horrified about how my voice sounded – bunged-up and weepy…I made one last ditch attempt to wipe my eyes and quickly looked in the hall mirror…I looked awful.
There was another knock.
"I'm coming – God, why do you always forget your keys…" I sighed as I slammed the door open; a strong gust of cold wind blew against my face.
Petunia pushed passed me without so much as a hello. Her thin, somewhat horsey face was screwed up with annoyance.
"I forgot my purse! Vernon is waiting for me outside…its not like I could let him in with the house such a mess," she said hurriedly, running to the living room, procuring a rather disgusting coloured purse (salmon-pink leather, anyone?). "I'm not coming back tonight – Vernon is taking me line-dancing."
"I'm sure he is," I said as she ran back out. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as the rather broad looking Vernon received Petunia; with a rather pompous grin, admittedly, but still…something about the way he looked at her reminded me how alone I felt…how alone I was.
I shuffled into the living room and decided to light a fire…the flames almost always calmed me down.
I'd begun lighting the fire when another knock sounded.
"What now?" My eyes fell on the salmon-pink shawl half-hidden behind a white cushion on the sofa…Petunia must be in love if she was becoming so distracted. I sighed and picked the shawl up.
Another knock.
"Alright! I can't fly, you know! Take your bloody keys next…" But as I opened the door I realised it wasn't Petunia.
"Hello, Lily," A small, almost sarcastic smile. I stepped back; he looked…different somehow and yet…reassuringly the same; those high cheekbones, his somewhat uneven, sharp teeth, his paleness, emphasised by his long, dark hair…and those intensely dark, obsidian eyes...the kind of eyes that penetrated through a person. I'd forgotten that look; the way Dumbledore made you feel x-rayed, Severus made you feel…undressed.
"I'm guessing Petunia is still making you open the door for her every time she goes out; perhaps it makes her feel more important," He mused after an awkward pause. I stared at him.
"You told me that once before…"
"Boring when things get repetitive…" He smiled again, that special crooked smile, "Which is why I'm very sad to ask if I can come in – I know you hate cliché."
I nodded and tried to order my thoughts…none of it made sense.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted out. He stepped in, shut the door behind him and removed his long, black cloak.
"Didn't you send me that note?"
"My house isn't the park…I waited for hours…" I felt so ashamed to have to admit this.
"I was at the park," he watched me closely.
"No, you weren't!"
"I was. I don't lie, as you should well know," there was something icy in his voice. He paused, "However, I did not appear before you. I was up on that old tree watching."
"Watching?" He nodded slowly.
"Watching you."
I was stunned by such a bare-faced admittance.
"Why didn't you…come out? Meet me? Why did you just watch me crying!?" I demanded as my face grew hotter…embarrassed was an understatement.
"You're interesting to watch." He said simply.
"But…it makes no sense…I was…crying." He looked somewhat pained. It took a moment for him to reply.
"It was important for me to…to wait. To watch. To think. I needed to know if I could…come here and move forwards, not in reverse."
"You're still not making any sense."
"You used to complain about that on a daily basis."
He seemed so sincere and so much like the Severus I once knew…I acted on impulse and stepped towards him; I wrapped my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest.
"I missed you," I whispered. "I missed you so much."
He stiffened…then relaxed. I felt his arms wrap around me and we stood like this for what felt like a long time. He was cold to touch from being outside – I felt his cool hands move up and down my back soothingly.
"Why are you holding that pink thing?" He broke away first and I took his hand and pulled him to the living room – his hand felt different to the last time I'd touched it…rougher, somehow. I led him to the couch before the empty fire place.
"Tea or coffee?"
"Neither, Lily." He suddenly seemed serious, "I have to go soon."
"Go…? But you've just arrived!" I couldn't keep the desperation out of my voice.
"Yes…but it wouldn't be….prudent to stay too long in the house of a…well, a taken woman." He said this coolly, looking towards the window.
"You were always so proper, Sev," I smiled and sat next to him, "But I'm not… 'taken'?"
"You're not going to spout some kick-ass feminist arguments are you?"
"Did you just say…'ass'?"
"I believe I did," he said in a mock-surprised tone that irritated me about as much as it endeared me.
"And if I said I wasn't taken in any sense of the word what would you say?" I said gently; his reaction satisfied me – he seemed taken-aback. He quickly regained his composure.
"I'd reply that some coffee would be nice."
"Black no sugar?" I shot to the kitchen and, whilst the kettle boiled, I tried, in vain to calm my fluttering heart. He had returned…the one man I knew better than any, and yet not at all…complex, meaningful, thoughtful…deep, passionate…completely infuriating…beguiling…worthy…
It struck me strange that I should think all this after so many years…his friendship…it had meant something more than any other…and today, when he hadn't shown up…I had felt beyond grief, beyond depression…
What was this I was feeling? I trembled so much that the mug I was holding slipped through my fingers and crashed to the floor; Severus ran into the room.
"What happened?" He looked at me, at the mug and shook his head muttering, "Clumsy." He started over but I bent low and began picking the pieces up…
"Ow," a piece cut me – blood dripped to the floor. I felt shaky…I felt him near and knew he must be thinking how inadequate I was, in every possible way.
"You are a witch, Lily," He had a smile in his voice, "Just to remind you."
"I'm not allowed to use magic here." I said, looking down so he couldn't see the expression on my face. After a pause:
"Then it's lucky I'm here," he bent low, next to me, and tapped his wand on the pieces – it was a mug once more. He reached out and took my hand, "look at you blood…it looks almost beautiful, doesn't it…the white of the floor, the red of the blood…quite beautiful…" He looked at me seriously and then laughed at my face.
"You've always had a weird sense of humour," I mused. He healed my hand, but didn't let go.
"You have scars…" he said. I quickly snatched my hand away and rolled my sleeve down as far as it would go.
"Everyone – has – scars," I got up and continued making his coffee. I could feel him watching me. He remained silent as I prepared the coffee pot and some nice biscuits we reserved for special guests. I carried all this on a tray to the living room.
The room had changed perceptibly; the fire was roaring merrily – I looked at Severus suspiciously.
"I know," He said wondrously, "It must be magic."
I laughed and we kept the conversation light as he sat down on the couch and I sat at his feet – old memories…our childhood, Hogwarts (with little snippets carefully omitted)…we reached a comfortable silence. I took this moment to admire the man before me.
His brooding eyes were staring into the fire – they really were black, not dark brown…how could that be? And why…why did they change from one expression to the next like that…at times almost anguished…then peaceful…then frustrated and then suddenly joy-filled…and then pained once more. His fine, black hair was better cared for than I last remembered…but he was still as thin as ever. He wasn't handsome, he never had been…he was interesting.
"You know, Lily," He said suddenly, still looking at the fire, "sometimes I remember what you told me…and I can't help but feel you were right."
"I said a lot of things…"
"It was something about jealousy. You said something like…something like I was jealous of James and you…"
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I was being…"
"No, no – you misunderstand," He looked at me and I was silenced by his gentle smile. "I was jealous. You were right. I was completely and utterly jealous and, if given the opportunity, I would have stabbed James at least a few hundred times for taking you away…"
"Oh, Sev – he never took me away," I felt touched (in an odd way) for him adding the stabbing bit. I bit my lip and looked at my feet. "It was me. It was my fault…I should have given you more attention…I neglected you…I neglected us."
"I was jealous," He ignored what I said – he was still staring at me with an intensity that made me blush, "I was so, so very jealous and it took me a while to work out why…do you know why, Lily?"
"No," I realised we were whispering, our faces so close I could count every one of his eyelashes…I had always loved his eyelashes. Long, dark, defined.
"Because every time I saw him kiss these lips," He brought his index finger across my lips – I parted them willingly, "every time I saw him press his face here," he placed his hand on the nape of my neck and I stopped breathing, "and here…" his hand brushed across my exposed collarbone, "I couldn't help but think…that you were mine."
The possessiveness in his tone sent thrills through me that I just couldn't deny…I didn't move for fear of breaking eye contact.
"And for months I couldn't accept it…I struggled…with myself. Such conflict I hope you will never know, Lily," He looked away and, regrettably, let go of me. "I had never felt so desperate…and yet so lost…and so, every time I dreamt of you, I'd force myself to imagine you and him together. It repulsed me…but it was the only way…I imagined you with him here, in this very room. Together. And you would put Chopin on (Nocturns, to be precise). He would trail his fingers across you and you would respond, respond to even the lightest touch…"
I knew this was somehow wrong to listen to…but who was I to deny an insight into the workings of Severus Snape's mind?
He described the shapes our bodies would make…the sounds – the moans – the softness of my skin…every now and then he'd touch my face, my hands, my arms, showing the exact spot James would plant a kiss – lick – bite. I felt something stir deep inside me.
"Aren't you curious?" I asked breathlessly, when he had paused.
"About…?"
"About…doing those things…with me." I felt my face turn scarlet, but kept my eyes on his face. He smiled almost bemusedly.
"I don't think curious is quite the word," He replied. I noticed he hadn't drunk his coffee. I quickly jumped up and ran upstairs, retrieving an old CD of Chopin and some sheets from my bed.
He watched me silently as I shoved the tray to one side and lay the sheets down on the floor before the fireplace. I placed the CD in the player in the corner of the room. I stood before him, holding his eyes with mine…I slowly removed my sweater…
"Stop," Severus said – I looked at him but continued removing my trousers – his expression was enigmatic. "Lily – I told you to stop," He said gently.
"Why?"
"Because…I don't want to be like James," He looked down, "I don't want to…take you, as I imagined. I want to…court you." I couldn't help but laugh at this.
"Only you would use a word like that," there I was, in my underwear and he wanted to court me? I felt embarrassed for being so forward.
"Would you rather it any different?"
"I want you to…" this was harder than I'd imagined, "I want you to kiss me."
I was so scared he'd ignore me – or worst laugh at me - I didn't even notice him rise from the sofa and stand close to me until I turned to face him. He tilted my face up and slowly – agonisingly slowly – he pressed his lips onto mine…I sighed inwardly and returned his kiss insistently. I brought my arms around his neck and slowly we descended until we were on our knees.
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A/N: Should I continue from here…? What do you think?