January 12, 1972
A Potions Class
"Please open your textbooks to page 127, if you would, there we are.." says Professor Slughorn, bouncing a bit as he edges his way towards his desk.
The day is dark, a full-force blizzard pummels the windows of the castle. The wind moans at the windows, looking for cracks to sneak its smoky fingers through.
Lily and Severus have taken a seat near Slughorn's desk, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter sit behind them, and the remaining seats are a mishmash of Slytherins and Gryffindors second years. Severus is already rummaging in his threadbare bag, Lily has dutifully flipped open her textbook to the correct page. Swelling Solution. James and Sirius are squabbling quietly over something- Sirius is gesticulating violently- Remus is just finishing a page of something distinctly not his Potions textbook, and Peter is already staring out the window, head propped on his fist, and his mouth is hanging open slightly.
"Now then! Who can tell me what a Swelling Solution is capable of?….Mr. Pettigrew! Can you enlighten us?"
Peter's elbow promptly falls off the desk in shock, ow! - and he looks wildly at his mates searching for an answer- any answer, as he generally hasn't the foggiest notion of anything that happens in any of his classes. Lily twists her lips in annoyance as Severus pulls down her waving hand. Severus glances at her, notes her pinched lips, her air of despondency. He can almost feel the waves of discouragement wafting about her, and it puzzles him.
"Well then, Mr. Pettigrew?"
Peter gulps. He is bollocks at answering questions. All questions should be directed to James. Or to Sirius and Remus. Not to him, because he is Peter, Bollocks at Answering Questions.
"Erm.. well, it, um- "
"If brewed correctly," James hisses under his breath.
"Erm, it, if, if brewed correctly,"
"It will cause that which it is applied to to swell,"
"It- it will, erm, cause that which, which it is applied to, to swell- "
"Causing the subject to accumulate an indefinite amount of mass on the afflicted area."
"Causing the- subject- to, to accum- accumulate an indefinite amount of- mass? On the, on the ifflic- afflicted, afflicted area."
There is a small silence following these words. Slughorn is looking at Peter with puzzled exasperation, eyebrows quirking as he decides what to do with a decidedly embellished textbook definition. James and Sirius are doing their best to hold in silent fits of laughter, and Remus is determinedly ignoring the lot of them. Peter slowly turns an impressive shade of pink.
"You are correct, Mr. Pettigrew, correct indeed. Although I'll thank you, Mr. Potter, to not hand out answers willy-nilly. Well now! I suppose that merits five points to Gryffindor- although marginally, you understand, do please try to answer in your own words next time…Now! Can anyone tell me what an antidote to the Swelling Solution is? …Miss Rosier!"
Lily is usually an excellent student, but today she is antsy, shifting in her chair, shuffling through her bag for nothing in particular, doodling along the margins of her book. Severus watches her out of the corner of his eye, his long dark hair tucked behind his ears. She's inking dark, ornate designs into today's potion recipe, and it's beginning to obscure the instructions. He tugs gently at the quill, fingers brushing the prickly barbs of feather, and her hand releases. He writes carefully in the margin of his own, second-hand copy, Bee in your bonnet?, then lays the quill back on the desk. Lily glances at him, biting at her lip. She glances at Slughorn, who is intoning the proper method of slicing caterpillars- "..and just pop the head off, like so.." - and picks up the quill.
No. She writes it very precisely, taking time to make a perfectly round period, ripping through the page in the process. She grimaces and rubs at it. The ink smudges.
"..it should, at this point, be quite easy to slice the caterpillar once the legs are removed, but do remember, diagonal slices will make the most efficient use of the entire body.."
Keep head, Severus notes next to his list of ingredients. Lily, watching, lifts her eyebrows.
?
Head is most potent bit.
How do you know?
Mum brewed potions.
"..and who can tell me which ingredient is the most important, and why…?"
Lily fiddles with her quill while Severus watches from the corner of his eye. It's not like her to be slouched, passing notes with him, instead of on the edge of her seat with her hand in the air.
What type of potions?
Severus stiffens, then writes, Medicinal, mostly.
Lily nods, twirling her quill in her fingers. Blotches of ink scatter from it, spattering Severus's textbook and nose.
"Mr. Lupin! Care to elaborate?"
Remus clears his throat, and embarks on a long-winded answer involving leech juice and the proper cleaning techniques of a silver knife- to which he is well versed.
**LE**SS**RL**JP**SB**PP**
Fifteen minutes later and they have lit small fires under their cauldrons, as they carefully pore over their textbooks. Severus crushes his nettles and puffer fish eyes into a fine powder, hovering over the mortar and pestle. Lily copies him, twisting the pestle in her fist.
"They called me mudblood again," she says quietly, as if to no one in particular. The pestle scrapes against the sides of the bowl, scritch, scritch. Severus is silent for a moment, the spirited chatter of the students echoing around the classroom as they scramble for ingredients. He is already chopping his caterpillars into neat, precise lines, surreptitiously keeping the head to one side.
"They're wrong," he says, mildly. "You're not a mudblood. The word itself implies mud for blood. It's a foul word, and- anyway, it's just wrong. You shouldn't listen to them."
"It means I'm a muggle. Or as good as one, at any rate- that I have dirty blood-"
"But you're not a muggle, and you haven't got dirty blood. That's stupid. You've got more magic in your little finger than most of the idiots here, I've always said that! Look," says Severus, laying down his silver knife with a little more force than necessary, "they are twits. Morons. Of the first class. They haven't the slightest notion. No, really- " Lily smirks at him from across her cauldron- "Who was it, Bellatrix again? Narcissa?"
"Oh, it really doesn't matter.."
"It does, actually, because no matter how pureblood those idiots are, did you know, the only reason they're here, at Hogwarts, is to find themselves husbands. Well that and, I suppose, to learn the basics. But not to, you know, be the Minister of Magic or anything!"
Lily meets his eyes, her mouth a little 'o'. "No!" she hisses. "Yes," Severus grimaces, eyes on the potion that is now slightly bubbling. "Most of them are just married off as soon as they're out of school- to other purebloods, of course- and they don't even have to know any of the spells or potions, or even household charms since they've got house elves to do them-"
"What's a house elf?"
"It's..well, it's an elf, you know, those nasty, tiny things that run around after you and clean and cook and all that rubbish." He wrinkles his nose. "Never did like them. They do all of that here, you know, clean up your messes and make the food-"
"Really? But I've never seen one!"
"They stay out of the way. But never mind that, the point is, that's why all the fuss was made when my- my Mum went and married a- a muggle." He's suddenly silent, the corners of his lips pulled tight and the angles of his face rigid. Lily quietly stirs the burbling liquid, four stirs clockwise, two counterclockwise; four clockwise, two counterclockwise. Severus never speaks about his family, and she has the feeling it's more than just his mother's death last year. It's the way he doesn't speak about his father, the way he flinches from the subject in the smallest physical gestures.
He takes a breath in through his nose, inhaling the slightly sweet fumes. "I'm not sure if my father ever forgave my Mum for being a witch, not really," he says, a scant smile twisting his face. "He…well, I'm here, now, and I'm a half-blood. Just," he turns to Lily, all earnestness- "Just don't. Take them seriously. You're one of the best witches in our year, and you're muggle-born. I'm one of the best wizards in our year, and I'm half-blood. What does that tell you?"
"That you won't die from modesty?" Lily snorts.
Severus scowls, his brows knit in concentration as he reaches for a bat spleen while trying to keep the stirring even. "No, it means that work- and talent, I suppose, are what makes a witch or wizard, and that can happen to anyone! Look at Celestine Goyle- you know, the 4th year- dumb as a rock, she can't even do a proper levitation charm! And she's as pureblood as they get. Lily, trust me. Blood means…nothing." His voice has risen, though he hasn't meant it to, and he's not sure if he's convincing himself of what he's saying, or convincing Lily- because the fact is he doesn't know what, exactly to think- but this, this now, seems right, seems good.
"But…but what about…" her face darkens into a black look- "what about Potter? And Black? They're both pureblood and..and everything is just so simple for them!"
Severus opens his mouth to answer and, inevitably, something small and slightly fizzing is lobbed into his cauldron. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last, but every time it prods at a dark little spot in his gut. He screws his eyes shut, waiting for the impending explosion, Lily's look of mixed horror and pity imprinted on his mind. Not again.
BLAM!
It explodes in little spurts of red and brown- oddly enough because the potion had slowly become a clear gold- and goes everywhere, landing on his head, on his hands, his arms. Screams and squeals erupt around the classroom, and he wonders vaguely if it's hit Lily this time or if she's managed to get out of the way. His fingers are swelling, and he's vaguely pleased that his potion was, at least, perfect, before it was ruined. Slughorn is bellowing like a wounded hippo, ordering those hit to the head of the classroom so an antidote can be administered. He can feels his robes splitting, and the heat from his swelling limbs, and hopes in panicked jolts that his robes won't be completely ruined, because he only has three pairs and how can I ask Father for another pair! Lily hobbles past him on bare and swollen feet, their inflated hands knocking together- and even in this moment when they look their most and completely wretched, his heart gives a little lurch.
**SS**LE**JP**SB**RL**PP**
James looks on in ill-disguised horror. Lily's feet look as if they could explode at any moment, although she at least had the presence of mind to kick off her trainers the moment she was hit. And really, he should only have eyes for Snape- who resembles something out of a bad muggle sci-fi film- but seeing Lily hit..
"I told you not to throw it so hard!" he hisses at Sirius, who is watching the mayhem with amusement.
"Not my fault, Petey here nudged my elbow- got thrown a wee bit harder than intended- but it was going to explode anyway! Did you think Evans would be shielded from Swelling Solution as by the mere fact of her inimitable beauty?" Sirius snickers, among indignant exclamations of "Did not!" from Peter, who is skulking under his desk.
Remus stands placidly by his cauldron, stirring slowly- four counter-clockwise, two clockwise- "You know, I did tell you. As a matter of fact, I think I tell you every single time which is, by my estimate, a grand total of eight. And-" he pauses to sprinkle in his crushed daisy root- "Couldn't you at least be a little more creative? It all gets so, so paltry. And really, James, don't be so shocked, Lily's gotten splashed at least four times, which technically makes it an over-fifty-percent-chance-"
"Sod off, Remus."
"At least you feel remorse, I wasn't sure you had it in you," says Remus. The corners of his lips are twitching.
"Remorse? Why, oh why should Jamesie be feeling remorse? Look at the size of Snivellus's hands, he's like- like an interstellar gorilla, is what, it's bloody marvelous!"
"An interstellar gorilla? Really, Sirius, I didn't know you were interested in such articulate muggle sciences that include interstellar gorillas in their area of study."
"Sod off, Moony!"
"He might be able to strangle you with hands that big, Sirius," Peter pipes in from under the desk.
"Not helpful, Pettigrew. But honestly, James, why should it bother you? Look, she's getting the antidote right now- "
"Just- just, maybe- I don't know, just- I like her, I don't want her to- to, get hit with Swelling Solution and, and dungbombs, and- " James chances a glance at Sirius. Nobody is even pretending to work on their potions, with the exception of Remus, how is now prodding at the liquid with his wand. Sirius is glowering at him, looking fit to explode. James bites his tongue.
"Are we not men? Are we really going to worry about- about girls getting hit with Swelling Solution when there is a great greasy-haired git who obviously demands every type of pounding known to man not ten feet away?" growls Sirius, teeth gritted.
"I might remind you that Peter is the only of us who has yet to turn 13, we're hardly men-"
Remus murmurs, but is cut off by Professor Slughorn, bustling over to them in a priggish manner, ample stomach parting students before him. He stops in front of the boys, who are looking everywhere except his face. "If you would, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter," and he gestures towards his office, while peering into Remus's cauldron. "Oh, and well done, I must say, Mr. Lupin! 10 points to Gryffindor. And- Mr. Pettigrew, you can come out from under that desk, it's quite safe- and of course," he says, following Sirius and James to the back of the classroom, " That'll be 40 points from Gryffindor, and what was that you threw in? A firecracker, dear me…these are banned, I believe?"
"We never- " Sirius begins, his eyes sparkling wickedly.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, you never, never at all, not once, as I understand…That'll be class dismissed, go on now…"
**JP**SB**RL**PP**LE**SS**
They pack their bags in silence, arms and legs and feet and eyeballs restored to their original size. Severus's hair hangs in his face, covering his burning cheeks. Every time, he thinks, and it never gets easier. They can hear Professor Slughorn's rumblings from his office, accompanied by the attempted interruptions of Black and Potter. Severus hates them, maybe more than he has hated anyone. He hates his father, but more in the way that one hates a father, and yes, Lily's sister is an enormous and rather awful pain in the arse, but Potter and Black…he hates them with the slow dull burn that wakens in his gut every time he is made the butt of their insufferable, inane, jokes. One day, they will pay, he the worst of it, the worst of it, is that Potter fancies Lily, and everyone knows it. And both Potter and Black on the Quidditch team, the youngest on any of the teams, while he, Severus, has two feet that refuse to cooperate on the ground, and the both of them are so infuriatingly cool, so arrogant- it makes Severus feel small and bitter and scathing all at the same time. It makes him angry because he has no one to help him fight back-
"You know," Lily says, breaking into his thoughts, "I sometimes wonder what would happen if I told my parents about everything that happens here. If I wrote them today and said, Dear Daddy and Mummy, today I got hit by some Swelling Solution because some absolutely horrible, arrogant gits threw a firecracker into my best friend's potion and it got all over us, and my eyeballs got about as big as tennis balls- I wonder what they would think?"
But Severus has stopped listening at the words best friend. He smiles at her, the shy smile that she loves best- and together, they leave the classroom.