Just Recurring
Year the Third
Severus was leaving the Great Hall.
He couldn't believe it.
It was such a short time ago when he first came to Hogwarts, full of hopes and joys. Now he was thirteen years old, and had sat through a third Sorting. He was about to begin a third, hopefully better year at the old school.
"Anyway, he's coming back soon."
Hearing this, the pale boy was drawn to do the one thing he was good at: eavesdropping.
"Is he –"
"Yeah, he's alright," said James. "Just one mishap isn't going to send him away." He sounded proud.
"What are you going to do about Evans?" Severus's eyes widened.
"I don't know." And this time, James didn't sound so confident.
"What are you writing?" Lily leaned over Severus's shoulder, peering into his Potions book.
"Nothing." He shrugged, casually closing the book.
She laughed at the cover. "Isn't this a really advanced book?"
"Yeah – Mum got it for me after Professor Slughorn told her how poorly I was doing in Potions."
"But that's not fair! You're so good at Potions!"
"Not when Potter messes with them, I'm not." He sounded bitter; and Lily didn't know what to say.
Lily decided to attend the next Quidditch game of the season, and held true to her decision. The Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match was on a Wednesday with a less-than-favorable setting for the game. The pitch was misty, the ground soft and wet, and rain pelted the players – and spectators – with an icy chill.
Lily shivered in the stands, her mind replaying everything anyone had told her about Quidditch. It was a simple enough game – seven players on each team, five balls, two ways to score and one way to end it.
"Who's that down there?" she asked Cassandra Brown. The girl raised an eyebrow.
"On our team?"
"Yes."
"The Keeper – he's the tall one there, with red hair – that's Pete Creevey. The Beaters are Samuel Johnsten and – oh, I can't remember the other one's name." Cassandra tapped her chin.
Lily half-smiled. "What about the others, then?"
"Er…I do know that the Seeker is Raphael Jenks and the Chasers are John Bell, Nadine Banks…and Potter, of course." At Potter, the girl gave a little swoon, which Lily passed off as pathetically girlish.
However, she was bemused. "I thought Potter was Seeker."
"Oh, no," blustered Cassandra, "he changed to Chaser…I heard the old one was bitten by a dragon…couldn't exactly play, you know –"
"Yes, alright," said Lily impatiently.
"Would you like the names of the Ravenclaw team? I've got them all written down –"
"No; no thanks." Lily made a mental note never to ask a Brown a question again.
Settling into her seat, Lily strained to see the game start. She suddenly wished she had brought a pair of binoculars.
The Quaffle went up – straightaway a Ravenclaw Chaser had seized it, maneuvering toward the opposite hoops. Even as the Gryffindor team took pursuit, the Ravenclaw tossed the ball at the center hoop –
to be caught by James Potter.
With the red ball tucked under one arm, the Chaser sped toward the other end of the field. The Ravenclaw Beaters followed on either side, and, realizing that he was trapped, James passed the Quaffle to Banks. Banks dove toward the hoops, made a sudden right, and lobbed the ball to James, who heaved it through the center hoop.
Ten points for Gryffindor.
The rain grew stronger, blocking Lily's vision even further. From what she could tell, a Ravenclaw Chaser had just taken a Bludger to the stomach, and the results weren't pretty. However, as the boy made a shaky landing, the game went on.
Down to two Chasers, the Ravenclaws could not keep up with Gryffindor. Bell and Banks between them would grapple the Quaffle from the other team's possession and pass to James, who always managed to evade the Ravenclaw Keeper.
Twenty points for Gryffindor.
The game went on, giving Gryffindor a generous 80 points and Ravenclaw a measly 20.
Over and over again Chasers pitched the red ball through hoops.
100 to 30, Gryffindor.
Then, suddenly, Jenks raised a victorious hand into the air: Lily saw the glint of gold – and the game was over, that quickly.
The players were headed for the ground, soaked in rain and sweat –
when James fell.
It was a simple fall. He slipped to one side, presumably from the rain, and dropped ten feet to the ground.
There was an outburst, cries of "He's fainted!" and "Confunded!"
Lily heard none of them.
She only stared.
Then she followed the small crowd of Gryffindors onto the pitch, joined the group encircling him, blankly ignored McGonagall's calls of, "Move! Out of the way!"
She even followed McGonagall to the hospital wing, unsure why. She certainly wasn't worried about him – she simply wanted to know what was wrong, and why.
"He fainted on the pitch," she told Severus. "And Professor McGonagall had to carry him to the hospital."
Severus laughed – an awkward, triumphant, strange sort of laugh. "He's been in there for how long?"
"A day," said Lily, shifting in her seat.
"Maybe the Grim's finally got him."
Lily gasped, her green eyes going wide. "Sev! That's a horrible thing to say!"
Severus looked put off. "Since when did you worry what I say?"
"Since you started acting so bitter."
"How can you say that? I thought we were supposed to be friends? Best friends?"
Severus was standing at his window, unsure of what to do. It was late and he couldn't sleep.
How could Lily really think that about him? There was nothing wrong with his friends as far as he could tell; they were clever and life at Hogwarts had definitely improved for him, being around other Slytherins.
The prank on Macdonald has merely been a joke, and she was unharmed, right?
It would've been different, Severus thought, if Potter wasn't such an arrogant berk, or if Lily didn't feel the need to protect her fellow Gryffindor.
"Did you want to see me, Professor Slughorn?" Lily poked her head into the classroom. Cauldrons had been pushed against the wall, most empty.
"Yes, yes, come in," said Slughorn, plastering a smile on his round face. "How are you, Miss Evans?"
"Fine, thank you."
"Would you like some crystallized pineapple?"
"No, thank you, Professor Slughorn." Lily smiled apologetically. "If I may ask, sir, why did you ask me to come here?"
Slughorn chuckled. "Ah, yes, very quick to the point. Favorable trait, indeed…" He trailed off as he began to rummage through a desk drawer. "Ah, here we are. Essence of dittany. Could you take this down to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, please?" He held out a large corked bottle.
As if seeing her confusion – or perhaps simply wanting to elaborate – he added, "For young Mr. Potter, you see. Quite the stomach pains, apparently."
Lily took the bottle, saying nothing.
"Just between you and me, Miss Evans," said Slughorn, "he fancies you."
"Yes, I know," replied Lily with a heavy sigh. Slughorn only took this for a joke, chuckling to himself over "the witty child, bright and cheeky both!" as she made a haste exit.
Down the corridors, down staircases, and around corners she went, oblivious to other students as she headed for the hospital wing. She supposed she must look ridiculous with a bottle of dittany in her hand; but it was, of course, for a purely logical reason.
As she approached the hospital wing, raised voices echoed out the open doorway.
"Leave me be! Blimey!"
"You're in no state to go anywhere, Mr. Potter! Best you lie down."
"No." There was a pause and a few muffled coughs. "I can't miss the next Quidditch game!"
James stormed past Lily, oblivious to her presence, his hair ruffled as if he had just been abed.
"What is it you want, Miss Evans?" called Madam Pomfrey from inside. She sounded gruff, and Lily could only step forward with a meek smile.
"I've brought a bottle of dittany for Potter."
"He's looking quite pale," said Lily, peering onto the pitch. "Did you hear what was wrong with him?"
"Oh, yes," said Mary. Her face was still slightly pocked from the Slytherins' prank. She would not tell anyone exactly what spell was used. "He had pneumonia."
"Pneumonia?" Severus scoffed from Lily's other side, making Mary look startled. "That's impossible to contract so quickly."
"He might not have known until the strain of the Quidditch game. Oh, look, they've started!" Lily pointed at the players on the field below. One team was in red and gold, the other in green and silver.
Severus laughed bitterly. "The berk probably faked it. For attention, no doubt."
"Oh, don't say that, Sev."
"I'll say what I want," snapped Severus, feeling suddenly angry. Why did she have to be so kind to everyone, even people like Potter?
"Quiet," hissed Sirius. "D'you want to get caught?"
"Particularly," responded Remus. "You two shouldn't be out here. I could –"
"Full moon is tomorrow, Moony," reminded James. 'We've got to practice."
"I'm not sure of this." That was Peter Pettigrew, the newest addition to the group. He cast a wary eye around the corridor before putting his light out – much to the satisfaction of several portraits.
"Besides, we have to finish the map. So keep your voices down!" Sirius sounded harsh.
"C'mon, Wormtail," whispered James. "You're the only one among us who's managed to change twice. We need your help."
Peter said nothing.
"I think I hear Filch," someone said – and all went silent.
