A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of the Montrose Magpies for QLFC Round 2.
CHASER 1: Triceratops: Write about a 'light' character protecting themselves.
Optional prompts: (colour) forest green; (quote) Pretty soon man will out live his usefulness. When that happens...well… remember what happened to the dinosaurs. ― Anthony T. Hincks; (word) proof
Word count: 1534
Also for the Build A Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Hogwarts grounds/Forbidden Forest'.
Thank you so much to the lovely The Lady Rogue and Emiliya Wolfe for betaing this.


Pulling her beanie down to make sure it's covering her hair, Lily settles down on the grass under the shade of a large oak tree. It's a little too warm for knitted headwear, but her hair is her most distinctive feature ― none of her classmates have that exact shade of auburn ― and it tends to stick out in a crowd, especially to Severus and Potter. In the days since the incident after their Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, she has done her best to avoid them whenever possible. Unfortunately, that has been difficult since it seems that all either of them want to do is talk about what happened. She doesn't fancy the idea of magically dyeing and re-dyeing her hair every time she wants some privacy, so she's stuck with the beanie.

Satisfied that there isn't a hint of red to be seen on her, she takes a deep breath, enjoying the rare silence. Her friends have spent the last few days asking her how she's feeling and peppering her with advice, and while she appreciates the sentiment, it isn't helping. How is she supposed to work out what she wants when everyone seems determined to tell her what they think she should want?

Tilting her head back until it rests against the ragged trunk of the tree, she stares up at the canopy above her. The leaves are a lush forest green, broken only by the sturdy brown branches and hints of clear blue sky beyond. It's vivid and alive and free, unhindered by thoughts of what others expect of it. The professors could all want it to grow purple leaves, and it wouldn't care; even if they were to charm it to be that colour, all new growth would be that same beautiful green.

Lily accepted long ago that some people in the wizarding world will never see her as an equal, deciding that the worst punishment for them is for her to excel at everything she does, refusing to let the effect their words have on her show. But for her own best friend to side with them ― that's something she never thought to prepare for.

A gust of wind blows through the branches, rustling those perfect green leaves with a whoosh of sound, and she sighs.

It's odd that it is so vibrant while everything around her feels like it's decaying.

-x-

They're in the corridor outside Gryffindor Tower, just far enough from the portrait hole that the Fat Lady won't be able to overhear them. Lily's arms are crossed over her chest defensively while Severus' are gesturing wildly. It isn't like either of them; she usually isn't so closed-off, whereas he is never open about his feelings in public.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean it ― I swear I didn't!" Severus' dark eyes are earnest and pleading, and his voice is pitiful, but his words sound hollow to her ears. "Lily, please. Can't you forgive me?"

"Sev, I need space. Just ― just give me some space, alright? Is that really too much to ask?" Warmth gathers behind her eyes, and Lily can feel the tears welling up. She lets out a deep breath, willing herself not to cry until she gets back to the privacy of her bed. "Look, I have to go; I told Mary I'd study with her tonight. Exams, you know?"

It's a lie, but she knows Mary won't mind.

Severus starts to respond, but she turns and leaves before he can. The whole time she's walking away, she feels his gaze on her back.

-x-

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean it."

"Lily."

"Can't you forgive me?"

"I'm sorry."

"I swear I didn't."

"Please."

Severus' apology rings in Lily's head, circling around and around like a vulture just waiting for her to let her guard down. It would be so easy to give it the opening it's looking for, allowing it to swoop in and eat away at all signs that anything ever happened in the first place.

After all, that's what has happened every other time Sev has done something that makes her uncomfortable. He'll talk about some dark hex he's creating or blood purist he has befriended, and she'll get mad and avoid him for a few days. Then, once her anger has started to cool down, he'll apologise and insist she doesn't know what it's like to live in Slytherin ― how there are always people watching, waiting, judging ― and she'll begrudgingly admit that she doesn't, agreeing to let it go as long as he promises to be careful.

Maybe she should have specified that she didn't mean with his body but with his soul. To him, cosying up to the older students and creating new curses and hexes are ways of protecting himself from anyone who might seek to harm him. To her, they represent yet another stumbling step down a slope that is too steep for him to ever climb back up.

For the longest of times, she thought they could make their friendship work anyway ― that if they tried hard enough, the distance growing between them wouldn't matter. She has seen person after person hurt and abandon him, including his own parents, and she decided long ago that she would never let herself become one of them.

She has no doubt that's how he'll see her if she chooses to leave.

Her friends insist that it isn't her fault. After all, she may have the ability to make it all go away, but he's the one who said that word in the first place. In their minds, he was useful when she was young ― when she was just a Muggle girl doing un-Muggle things ― but is no longer worth the hassle of maintaining the friendship.

"It isn't fair," they say. "He keeps messing up, and you keep cleaning up after him. When are you going to let him be responsible for his own mistakes?"

Deep down, she knows they're right. But she hates that they would sing a different tune if she came to them about someone they actually liked. When the Marauders do something stupid, it's just a joke, and anyone who doesn't immediately forgive them is petty. When Severus does it, he should be cast aside like deadweight.

Is that what she's doing as well? Is she no better than everyone else who has written him off because he's poor, or because he has oily hair, or because he's a Slytherin?

No, she thinks. She has let bygones be bygones with Severus time and time again for the sake of their friendship. And even though her heart has recently started beating suspiciously fast whenever Potter's around, she hasn't acted on it and never plans to. If anything, her bias is in the other direction.

"He's not sorry," she whispers to herself. "He's not."

He has tried apologising to her in every way possible: in person, via letter, through her friends, by making a point of wearing the watch she gave him for his last birthday... Still, she can't help but think it would be more convincing if he could bring himself to promise not to do it again. That, perhaps, would be proof that he understands just how much his actions are hurting her. But he will never be able to offer that promise because, at the end of the day, he knows as well as she does that he will just keep doing it. He always has, and he always will.

That's why he's trying to convince her with letters and pleas when the way to change her mind has been at his fingertips all along.

She could forgive him if he truly were sorry. If it were just a word snapped out under pressure, unmeant and never to be repeated again, they could get past it. But even though he regrets saying it to her, it's clear that he doesn't regret thinking it about others, and that's just as bad. She doesn't know how he can consider her his friend while viewing others like her as inferior or, worse, actively associating with people who want her dead.

There's a chance that if she sticks around, he'll change ― that their friendship will be enough to keep him from stumbling any further down that slope. But it hasn't to date, and she has no reason to think it ever will.

All that's left is to decide how much longer she's willing to hurt herself for him.

Tomorrow, she'll tell him their friendship is over.

It pains her to even think about it, but nothing lasts forever. The dinosaurs lived until they didn't; kingdoms rise until they fall; people are best friends until they aren't. It's just the way of things.

And just as the oak tree will lose its leaves in autumn, live as a skeleton through winter, and find new life in spring, she will mourn the loss of their friendship but eventually find herself moving beyond it. She may even find that she is stronger for it.

After all, she has to. It's the only way to keep him from letting her down again.


A/N: The dialogue from the scene between Lily and Severus isn't from the apology in canon. That was on purpose, both because I didn't want to copy the dialogue from the books and because I wanted to emphasise that it wasn't the same conversation.