A/N: Thank you to those of you, both faithful readers and new, who have read and reviewed. I can see from my stats that the hits for this story are quite high so if you read please let me know what you think. I have actually finished writing this story now and have come back to writing on "No Coward Soul is Mine" which I hope you will check out if you enjoy Lily/Snape centric fictions.
Thank you to SomethingBorrowed who is always there, Megan for her hyper emails at 3am and Tristan for his patience.
This story is for Loki's Symphony who needs something to cheer him up right now :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I simply own what I create. No need to sue.
Two weeks passed before Snape took the potion. He had waited, feeling as he did about many things - that he would instinctively know when the time was right. He hadn't wanted to waste it. Although he was confident in his skills as a potions-maker, he wasn't sure whether this sort of opportunity would be his again. Every day he would wake in the Slytherin dormitory and gaze up into the green canopy above his bed, listening contemptuously to the sounds of Mulciber's snores, and he would wonder if today would be the day that he would feel it – the day that he would know. He would get dressed and leave the common room for breakfast in the Great Hall, watching the other students file sleepily past, argue after the last sausage or desperately try and finish the homework that they should have completed the night before. But each day would seem just as monotonous as the last. He would be treated with cool disregard by the majority of his classmates with the exception of Black and Potter, who relished each opportunity to tease and antagonise. He would attend his lessons and complete his work; he would eat lunch on his own and he would spend his free time either in the library or down in the dungeons helping Slughorn prepare for his lessons.
"Taken that Felix Felicis yet?" Slughorn asked him one wet afternoon. The heat wave had long since passed and now the rain had moved in, falling hard across the grounds and forcing everyone indoors. Snape had been concentrating hard on removing the dried on remains of frogs brains from empty jars with a tricky manoeuvre of his wand, and looked up as Slughorn had spoken to give a slight shake of the head. Slughorn tutted and, leaving his quill hovering above the parchments he had been marking, made his way over to where Snape had been sitting. "What have you been waiting for?"
Snape always resented Slughorns questions. As much as he begrudgingly accepted that Slughorn's concern for him was probably genuine, he couldn't help but hate it when Slughorn queried why such a young and talented student insists on spending his free time down in dungeons. How could he make the old man see that being talented at potions was not a pre-requisite for popularity at Hogwarts?"I was waiting for an opportunity to present itself," Snape finally replied, neatly stacking the clean jars to one side before beginning on another.
"My boy, that potion does not require an opportunity. It creates those opportunities for you." Slughorn leant back against the work bench and folded his arms across his chest. "It takes a decidedly average day and makes it spectacular..." Slughorns voice had adopted a reminiscent tone that prompted Snape to ask, "Have you ever taken it, Professor?"
"I was twenty-four..." Slughorn began dreamily. "And she was such a beautiful witch then..." Slughorn suddenly stopped, looking at Snape as if he had suddenly only realised he was in the room before blushing and returning to his desk.
"I've finished, Sir. May I go?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Slughorn said with a wave of his hand, falling back into his reverie as Snape closed the dungeon door behind him. He stalked along the corridors, pushing roughly past a group of first years who were huddled on the top of the Grand Staircase, before turning sharply into the boy's bathroom. A blonde-haired, nervous looking boy jumped as the door had swung open and he quickly dried his hands leaving Snape entirely alone.
Snape made his way over to the sink and turned on the faucet, sending water frothing down into the sink. He cupped his hands and wetted his face, rubbing his cheeks vigorously and running the remnants of water back through his hair. Reluctantly he raised his eyes to meet his reflection, his penetrative, black eyes swiftly appraising himself – his sallow skin, his large nose, his lank, black hair that constantly framed his face. His lips twisted into a grimace as he criticised himself, doing nothing much to help his appearance. He turned away and leant back against the basin, considering that there must have been a time when he hadn't looked into the mirror and picked apart his flaws, clearly discerning everything that made him so repellent to others. The door of the bathroom opened and as group of Ravenclaw boys entered Snape moved to a cubicle, locked the door and sat down.
As he listened to them chatter absent-mindedly about a pretty-dark haired girl in their Arithmancy class and about the impending Quidditch fixture, Snape reached inside the pocket of his robes and withdrew the tear-shaped vial. He wasn't sure whether it was just because it had spent so long close to his body but it was warm to the touch and cast a gold, iridescent glow about the cubicle. He was tired of the mundane, fed-up with being side-lined. Perhaps he deserved a change of luck? He looked at his watch. It was just past twelve which would give him to midnight to make the most of his luck and without hesitation he removed the stopper and gulped the liquid down in one.
The affect was not immediate and Snape sat and listened to the boys leave the bathroom. But then gradually a warm sensation swept through his body, from the tips of his ears right down to his toes. It was exhilarating, obliterating the sense of self-loathing he had experienced moments before when staring into the mirror, replacing it with a feeling he had not yet experienced – the feeling that when he left the bathroom everything would probably turn out okay. All at once Snape was certain that he should stop hiding in the bathroom and he leapt up from his seat and strode purposefully out into the hallway.
There was an hour until lunchtime and usually Snape would use this time to study alone in the library, often having obtained special permission from Slughorn to obtain some volume or other from the restricted section. However, something about today felt different. He could feel the Felix Felicis taking affect as he felt the irrepressible urge to make his way back to the Great Staircase and up to the fifth-floor. On his way the trick step didn't fool him and he narrowly leapt out of the way, causing a third-year Slytherin to fall through the gap instead. Without quite knowing why Snape soon found his way to the fifth floor corridor. Although it was too wet for any of the pupils to be outside the corridor was deserted. Grey light bathed the corridor. The rain beat hard against the windows. The familiar statue of Boris the Bewildered loomed at the end of the hallway, by which Snape could vaguely discern two figures silhouetted against the stone. They were tall, intimidating and as Snape drew closer he realised why they were huddled so closely together. For there was a third figure, her back pressed back against the statue, her face turned away from who Snape now recognised as Mucilber who was looming over her.
"What do you reckon?" Mucilber snarled and Snape, who was now only feet away, could see that it was Lily's friend Mary who was their victim. "How shall we teach her a lesson?"
"Just leave me alone!" Mary snapped, attempting to push past them but dropping her books in the process and sending the parchment cascading to the floor. Avery laughed and purposely placed his foot on top of Mary's copy of Hogwarts: A History, preventing her from retrieving it. "You don't scare me!"
"Oh but you should be, Mary," Mucilber snapped. "You and all the other mudblood-sympathisers should be very afraid...When the time comes you'll be the first traitors to burn..."
"What are you going to do?" Mary countered and Snape couldn't help but admire her resolve in the face of two much bigger, and more threatening, opponents. "You're nothing but playground bullies!"
"But we're so much more," Avery replied and Snape watched as he moved to roll up his sleeve. Yet Snape knew he could not let that happen, he'd have to intervene and he quickly withdrew his wand and, aiming it at the back of Avery's head he approached and said softly, "I don't think that's wise, do you?"
Avery started and turned around, his sleeve dropping. Mucilber grinned. "Oh, it's just you Severus. We were just having a bit of fun with Macdonald here, weren't we?" Mucilber reached out to pinch Mary's cheeks between his fingers, causing her to yelp and step back.
"Leave her alone, Mucilber. We're not complete animals."
Avery could not conceal his astonishment and Mucilber, having taken a moment to process what Snape had just said, took his foot from Mary's book and took a step towards Snape. Mary shuffled backwards, looking as if she wanted to disappear.
"What are you doing, Snape?" Avery's eyes travelled the length of Snape's wand before fixing firmly on his face. "You don't need to get yourself involved."
If it had been last week, yesterday or even an hour ago – before Snape had taken the Felix Felicis – he would have turned around then and walked off in the opposite direction. It was not that he was coward but he simply wouldn't have cared enough to intervene. The potion had changed that, however. He suddenly felt instilled with a desire to not only put things right, but with a deep-rooted belief that if he attempted to change things he would succeed. Luck was on his side. He did not lower his wand and he met Avery's gaze and articulated slowly, "If you think for one second that I am going to allow you to not only reveal our secret to the entire school but to victimise an innocent girl in the process, you are very much mistaken." As he spoke he felt a new-found confidence surge through him. He stood up straighter, felt taller, and was unconcerned as to how his fellow Slytherins would interrupt his actions. He found he simply didn't care. "Now I suggest you take your sidekick..." Snape's eyes flitted in Mucilber's direction, who had turned puce with rage, and he continued "...and disappear down to the dungeons."
For one horrible moment nothing happened, no-one moved; but Snape didn't doubt what would happen next. Finally, Avery turned to Mucilber and said, "Come on. Let's go..." and, after gapping at Snape like a goldfish, Mucilber obediently followed Avery away down the corridor.
After watching them go Snape turned to face Mary, pocketing his wand in the process. She was red-faced, whether from fear or anger Snape could not be sure, but she was looking at him as though she had never truly seen him before. Her evaluating eyes made Snape feel uncomfortable and after standing for a moment with only the sounds of the rain to break the silence, he bent down to retrieve the books that she had dropped.
"Here you are," he said, wanting simply to break the silence, handing the parchments back. Mary looked as though she was attempting to smile in thanks but that something was preventing her. It was only when Snape moved to walk away that he heard her sighing and he turned back around as she said, "Thank you." Snape did not respond but he did not walk away, something instinctual telling him to remain. He watched as Mary bit nervously at her bottom lip before continuing, "Why did you do that?"
Snape shrugged. "What did you expect me to do?"
This time it was Mary's turn to shrug. "Well...I..." she began to stammer awkwardly. "I'm not sure." She paused and with a toss of her curls said, "I know what you lot are, you know..." Snape said nothing and watched Mary's face carefully as she looked down at her feet and mumbled, almost as if she didn't want him to hear, "...but perhaps she was right about you."
Snape's heart tightened at these words and he struggled to remain outwardly impassive as Mary stepped away from the statue, turning to walk down the narrow corridor that led to the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. But as though he was possessed by some force greater than his resolve Snape stepped forward and called out, "Mary. Wait!" Mary halted and turned and before Snape was conscious of what he was doing he found himself speaking as though he could not control himself. "Please...I just want to say...What I mean is..." He struggled to take a deep breath, flustered suddenly by the way that the potion was clearly taking over, and how Mary's eyebrows were rapidly disappearing up into her head. "I just wanted to know, Mary. Does she hate me?"
Mary sighed and, folding her arms across her chest, she reluctantly replied, "No, she doesn't hate you Snape. Although it would be much easier and better for her if she did..." She went to move away but Snape persisted, following her.
"I want to see her...just once...I need to talk to her and at least try and make her see. To apologise...I know I've tried before but I want it to be different this time..." Something about Mary's expression told Snape she was listening and so he took a deep breath before finishing, "I just want to make sure..."
Behind him Snape could hear that lessons drawing to a close. Soon there would be the rush for lunch. Mary seemed to sense this too, knowing full well that any minute now there would be a stream of students trying to get up the narrow stairway to the Gryffindor corridor.
"Fine! Okay, I suppose I owe you for today. You get one chance Snape. Be in the Trophy Room at nine tonight. But don't blame me if she hexes you into oblivion!" And with that she turned and Snape watched her bobbing curls until she disappeared round the corner.
Reviews encouraged and appreciated. More to come soon x
