A/N: I'm sorry about the delay in updating, but life has been hectic. Thank you to all who have reviewed, I appreciate any and all feedback. In fact, reviews compel me write even faster – hint hint lol.
Thanks to my Beta Le Chat Noir for her sublime grammar and prose expertise!
"I think you will want to pay attention this hour!" Horace Slughorn's throaty voice reverberated throughout the dungeons. It was not a particularly subtle or pleasant voice, but it drew the student's attention to the front of the darkened room. Slight coughs, giggles, and whispers remained, but they slowly dissipated as the portly professor held a large iridescent beaker in front of his puffy face. The swirling purple liquid moved as though an invisible hand was stirring it effortlessly, and several students stared as the ripples cast a rotating silvery glow upon the ceiling.
"A rather enchanting concoction, is it not?" Slughorn asked, a gentle smirk lifting his lips.
The class murmured their agreement.
Snape scoffed.
Is it now fashionable to transform into a stupefied, drooling mongoloid at the sight of a sparkly potion? He wondered.
"Could anyone tell me what it does?" Slughorn placed the beaker on the table in front of him with reverential gentleness.
No hands were raised. Snape looked out of the corner of his eye to see if Evans had decided to valiantly rise to the occasion and hazard a guess, but she stood just as still as the rest of the class. Her eyes were on her textbook, and her eyebrow was raised slightly as she perused the guide for some answer as to what the mystery substance might be. If he were feeling particularly giving, he may have considered pushing his book onto her desk. Unfortunately he was in no such mood.
"No one?" asked Slughorn as he rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. It was a rather unflattering position for a man of his girth, Snape mused.
The silence remained. No one knew that the rather attractive potion glittering in front of Slughorn was the highly coveted – and controversial – invisibility serum that had been developed over thirty years ago by a now jailed alchemist known as Mervin Ficklewood. He had indulged too frequently in his creations, and one witch too many had heard him lumbering clumsily out of her bedroom window after she finished bathing.
Such idiocy, thought Severus, to sneak into a woman's bath or bedroom while completely invisible and still get caught.
The potion - affectionately entitled "Wood Juice" by its wayward creator – was illegal for over a decade before the ban was appealed by the Ministry of Magic on the grounds that the potion could be beneficial in very special circumstances. The subsequent legalization took another two years. Bureaucracy was a rather long-winded process, after all. Ethical debates were often solved by weighing economic benefits, and such was case with Ficklewood's legacy. Eventually the potion – given the rather benign title "Invisibility Serum" – was available chiefly to Aurors. There was a great deal of papers that required pushing in order for one to receive the substance in the name of duty, but one could never underestimate the value of having friends in high places.
It seemed that Slughorn did, Snape considered.
In fact, Snape once remembered that very man saying – with his head held high and a leather potions text clasped tightly to his chest like his personal manifesto – that "life was not about what you did, but about who you knew - and what they could do for you."
He laughed afterwards, his robust belly shaking with mirth. He was a giant weasel of a man, but stupid he was not.
Besides, Severus quite liked Slughorn in the same way that he liked several of his quieter housemates: unobtrusive, transparent, and relatively inoffensive. Hogwarts – disgustingly misguided institution though it was – could benefit from having more residents of the likes of Slughorn. How refreshing would a world filled with selfish miscreants be in comparison to one filled with blooming heroes who wore their pride and courage like golden badges of honor emblazoned across their pompous chests? Wouldn't it be lovely to live alongside witches and wizards who never troubled with masks of honesty and good intent? Those children of Merlin achieved greatness in both academics and reputation while silently pulverizing the peace of mind of others.
Potter and Black.
Himself.
Such morbid, bitter irony.
They were not so different, not really. He allowed his surliness and malcontent to manifest itself in his visage; they cloaked theirs in good humor and boyish disregard. They all harbored deep, unyielding hatred. They were aggressive, ruthless, and cruel in both action and spirit. Severus acknowledged his disposition, but no one – not even the two cretins of which he spoke – had the courage to see darkness in the souls of the others. Especially not when those "others" wore robes of red and gold. Royal colours, those were. Signifiers of bravery and heroism.
Covered from head to toe in robes of faded black, who was he?
"I shall hand you all a list of instructions!" Slughorn began. "Please find a partner for today's lesson: it is a little too advanced to do on your own – not to mention dangerous." Slughorn's grin widened. He might as well have winked with blatant hyperbole given his giddily cryptic tone, Snape thought.
It made sense though, really. A man who dressed as garishly as the Potions Master would surely fail to comprehend the principle of subtlety – even it were to be so kind as to jump up and latch onto his portly bottom.
"I should warn you all now…"— Slughorn's voice lowered considerably, much like the voice of one divulging a damaging secret— "this concoction is very dangerous – even deadly – in the hands of one who cannot harness its power appropriately."
Several gasps and murmurs escaped the gaping mouths of the transfixed students.
"What is it?" Black's rough voice barked out, causing the heads of the girls in front of him to swivel around with alarming rapidity. Several giggles erupted from the blushing, bobbing heads.
"That I cannot tell you," Slughorn answered to groans of disappointment and pleas for reconsideration. He hushed the jeering crowd with a wave of his hands.
"But – yes, there is a but – if any of you successfully create this potion, I will allow you to sample some under the utmost secrecy. Will that do as a consolation?" he enquired sweetly.
The students agreed, predictable creatures that they were.
Snape opened his book quietly, his black eyes scanning the weathered pages of the text for the ingredients and proper procedure involved in the production of the famed Invisibility Serum.
Ah, there it was! Page 294, right beside the rather chilling moving picture of a witch with her legs slowly disappearing as she poured the glittering concoction down her throat. It was the look on her face that gave the observer pause: one of complete and utter sinister satisfaction. She was to achieve the ultimate freedom. Her eyes were absolutely dancing with celebration, and her sneer became more pronounced as the contents of the beaker touched her lips and entered her fading body.
"Evans!" Snape felt himself shudder as Potter's voice assaulted his ears, the words sadistically painful.
"Evans, get over here." Potter called out once more.
Snape turned his body slightly to watch the messy-haired boy pat the seat beside him enthusiastically.
The red-haired girl looked at him with a scowl and shook her head.
"Aww, come on. You do want to win, don't you?" Potter laughed at his own poor joke and smiled broadly, a slight plea showing itself in his eyes.
Snape could feel her eyes on him, and a strange heat coursed down his spine while she considered him.
"No James," Lily said, then sighed deeply. "I would rather not. Doing your own work might be good for you, I think," she replied curtly.
Snape felt his lips curl into a rather cruel grin at the way Potter's face seemed to fall, even as he pretended to remain aloof and amused.
"Besides, Severus doesn't have a partner." With that, she smiled broadly at the arrogant Quidditch king and turned back to her books.
Severus felt his pallid features begin to burn. He only hoped that his skin did not match the rich red of the Mudblood's pretty striped tie. It was hanging rather loose today, he noticed. The knot was resting against her chest, right beneath her finely protruding collarbones.
No, he thought to himself. No, I have no desire to look at her neck or chest. She looks sloppy and disheveled. Unsightly even.
"Can I sit here?" Lily moved her chair closer to his own. Much closer, in fact.
"If you must." Snape answered dryly.
He felt her stare a hole through his body as her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She moved away, her chair scraping against the darkened concrete as she pulled it further from his side.
Rolling his eyes and silently – albeit with protest – allowing guilt to seep into his hardened resolve, he moved nearer to her. He bumped his seat awkwardly with his behind, which caused the protesting legs of the dilapidated piece of furniture to squeak – loudly – in distress.
Oh well, young wizards were not known for their grace, he thought.
"Here" he pushed the book towards her. "This might interest you."
"Ooh!" She gasped softly as her eyes rested upon the disappearing witch in the picture.
"Severus, where did you get this book?" she whispered whilst carefully picking it up and bringing it close to her nose. Was she smelling the parchment?
"A family heirloom," he answered stiffly.
She really was sniffing his book.
"It smells so old!" he exclaimed.
"I suppose."
"You've never smelled it before?"
"No."
"I love the smell of old books. They remind me of this Mug-, this old restaurant that I go to with my father sometimes in the summer. The toilet is rather frightening, with it being at the end of this rather long, dark passage and such, but it has this very distinctive smell that is somehow…" She paused to search for a word. "Special, maybe?"
She thought his textbook smelled like a toilet? She found the smell of toilets nostalgic?
"I suppose," he responded.
"Hmm." She gingerly flipped the pages of the text while leaving her index finger on top of the page she was formerly perusing. "Smells always bring back old memories."
What a luxury it must have been to have pleasant memories to think upon.
"Well," Snape began, "I seldom thrust my nose into book bindings in an attempt to recall my favourite toilet. If I ever do, you will be the first to know."
"Well Severus, anything sounds silly if you say it like that." Her tone was stern, but she was smiling.
He was pleased that they were working side-by-side as opposed to face-to-face. He felt more comfortable gazing at the flaming hair swept behind her ear, or her lips as she spoke. It was difficult to meet her eyes, uncomfortable almost. His skin seemed to burn at the mere thought of her jade eyes lifting to capture his own. She was so…expressive. He was so cold.
"It is imperative that we correctly brew this potion," he began stiffly. "Slughorn's instructions will be vague and general, but these,"— he pointed to his book — "are far more specific."
He turned to stalk towards the cabinet at the rear of the dungeons. With his back turned and his attention upon the dusty, torn labels on the stained bottles, her eyes could not attempt to meet his own.
"Let's begin." He frantically began sorting the substances and arranging them in front of him in that order that they would be used.
"Severus, isn't this potion illegal?" Lily whispered.
"No, not at present."
"But it was –
"Yes, it was banned by the ministry for several years; it's now available to those with specific needs."
"How did he,"— Lily nodded her head at their wandering Potions Master— "get it?"
"Bribery or luck," Snape answered coolly.
She laughed lightly. His face burned again.
"Well," she began, "I hope I never find out what he uses it for."
Severus envisioned an invisible Slughorn silently tip-toeing down the corridors at night on route to the Gryffindor tower. His hands would be rubbing together with excitement at the thought of the young, supple bodies of several of the –
No, he reminded himself again, no detestable thoughts today.
"Did you win?" Draco straightened his robes beneath his body and leaned back on his elbows, his expression an incomprehensible mixture of what appeared to be both boredom and intrigue.
"Indeed we did. Rather quickly too, seeing as we both had an affinity for such academics," Snape answered, his voice dry and his gaze far away.
It was the same. The air was still misty and black, the world closed in yet never-ending. It was a world of great duality. Dark and light, confining and vast, frightening and calming.
"She was just like Granger, wasn't she?" Malfoy questioned.
Snape paused. No, she was not like Hermione Granger. She was a woman with both brilliance and spirit, but something about her kept her divided, different. She was like no one he ever knew, or would ever know again. She was strong, dedicated, and had a tongue of flesh-dissolving acid. She had a great sense of humor and an appreciation for things that many overlooked: the smell of a book, or the creation of a bubbling, unidentifiable substance. Not to mention a hidden taste for danger.
She was filled with goodness. Too much, actually. Only the best of people died young, their lives snuffed out so that their talents and beauty could only be shared through the memories and tales of others.
Draco Malfoy would never know Lily Evans. He would never see her defend her friends, love an outcast, concoct a potion, or use carefully chosen words to tear into one insolent enough to offend her. He would never see her smile, hear her laugh, or listen to her share odd but poignant stories about things that few people took the time to acknowledge.
No, he would only know her through Snape's story. Lily Evans was only a memory now, her body long since disintegrated. It was one with the earth now, the soil dissolving her skin and growing around her as though she never existed. Once gone, always gone. The witch who had so much to give gave everything for nothing at all. He would never be able to ask her what her sacrifice was for, or if she knew that the child that she died for was damned regardless of her goodness.
The most terrible thing of all? Even if Draco were given the blessing of seeing such a witch as Lily cross his path, he would never appreciate her.
Lily Evans was no more, but Severus Snape awoke each and every morning as he always did. He lifted his starchy sheets off his body come sunrise each day because he had to. He greeted others with sneers and sarcasm. He spoke roughly, cruelly, and slept at night with a heavy heart. He lived for her. It killed him, for she was not there to know that. Everything he was now - everything he had become since she took her final breath while clutching her son in her arms - was what she made him. A spy, a soldier, a traitor to every cause.
He told the Headmaster that he would not fight with the witches and wizards who murdered her. The Headmaster gave him an ultimatum, one of repentance. He accepted. And now, he was here. And he would be for as long as it took.
"No Draco," Snape began, "she was like no one but herself."
"I see." Draco answered.
He didn't.
"So," young Malfoy continued, "what did you do with the serum?" A smile crept into the blonde boy's visage. His cool gray eyes seemed to come alive as images of what one could do while completely hidden from the eyes of others played behind his lids.
"That," Snape began, "is a very interesting story."