ETA: Fixed the typo in paragraph 4. Thanks, Lavinia!
ETA: THAT was truly brilliant of me. :headdesk: Well, now I guess you all know my dirty little secret. I'm not perfect! It's distressing, though - in my document, the chapter's titled 13... how come it ended up 12? I guess the document I was working from was a later copy in which I seperated the prologue as a chapter of its own.
Anyway, here's the proper chapter. Apologies again for the messed-up layout.
See chapter 1 for all disclaimers.
AN: Okay, it's been a while. I'm sorry. Once again, I will excuse myself by saying that technology is NOT my friend, and floppy discs are evil incarnate. But here it is, Chapter the Thirteenth - coincidentally, the first installment of Part Two, aka "Breathe". (Those readers of mine who are familiar with the works of the Great and Unrivaled Pink Floyd, I invite you to take a second listen to the lyrics of the song - this part is greatly inspired by it!) (Coincidentally - the first part, which encompasses chapters 1-12, also has a title now, so I shall be doing some editing in the hopefully near future and include it in the info. I realize how very messed-up the format has been lately, but I can blame that on dialup, which is slower than molasses in winter. I'll try to fix everything within the next couple of weeks, as the inconsistencies with the layout is bugging the crap out of me. Or, I may just post the proper edited version on my LJ, which is considerably more user-friendly than ffn.)
ALSO, I am going to ask you, my loyal readers and fellow afficiandoes of the Snape/Lily pairing, to drop by Livejournal, sign up for a free account, and join our community, Cliched1977. (Link: http/ www. livejournal. com / community / cliched1977 ) It's a fledgling, of course, but with a little help we can get it rolling. There's a dreadful shortage on SS/LE 'support groups' out there, and I'd love to be able to sit down with someone, figuratively speaking, and discuss our favorite pairing in-depth.
FURTHERMORE - I'm working on a one-shot this very moment, centering around - who else? - Lily and Snape and a series of unique messages. If anyone's interested, give me a shout - it'll be a while before it's finished, tho', because I'm so busy lately.
And FINALLY - I would like to send out a HUGE THANK-YOU to my wonderful, wonderful reviewers! Particular thanks to Lavnia, a girl with especially good taste; to Amscray, whose comments never fail to baffle and delight; to Viskii, whose vocabulary I am always happy to improve; to Nemka, whose enthusiasm is rivaled only by her charm (give us a wave if you're out there, dahling!); and finally, Morwen's Revival, who soooo made my day with that lovely gargantuan review - I'm delighted my words brought you back to the fold, so to speak! Lil/Sev forevah!
chapter thirteen
"There's a parcel for you, Lil," said Mr Evans from the kitchen. Lily, still dressed in her pyjamas at noon, came in and was delighted to find an owl perched on the back of her father's chair. The parcel was resting on the tabletop, square and badly-wrapped. Lily plucked the note up first and unrolled it.
Happy birthday, Lily!
Regards, Peter
Interested, she tore open the parcel to find a book on old Irish charms. "How sweet," she said, surprised that Peter had bothered – she didn't know the boy very well; the fact that he had remembered about her desire to study in-depth on this particular branch of charms was touching. "Peter sent me a charm book for my birthday."
"Peter?" said Mr Evans, one eyebrow raised.
"A friend of James'," Lily explained, ignoring her father's insinuating tone of voice. "I don't really know him too well."
At that moment, another owl soared into the kitchen, bearing another parcel. "Oh dear," said Mrs Evans, walking into the kitchen at that moment. "The birthday wishes arrive."
Lily handed her mother Peter's gift while she relieved the other owl of its burden. This one was from Remus and Sirius – or, at least, that was what the note said. It was a leather quill-care case, with a newly-sharpened penknife, several pen nibs, and a large packet of drying powder. Enclosed also was another note, this one from Sirius, wishing her a happy birthday and offering a rather bad limerick commemorating her fifteenth year. Lily laughed anyway.
At that moment, Petunia walked in.
She let out a disgusted noise as soon as she saw the owls, and practically flew back out into the hallway. "Filth!" she cried. "Get those filthy birds out of the kitchen! Don't you know people eat in there?"
Lily sighed. Mr Evans rolled his eyes, and Mrs Evans merely looked distressed. "They'll be gone in a second, Petunia," Lily called back, and then said sotto voce, "Honestly. She's the only person I know who's phobic about owls."
"Are they gone yet?" Petunia called imperiously after a moment's pause.
Lily's sigh was more exaggerated now. "Just a second, Petunia," she cried out, exasperated. Tossing Sirius' note on the tabletop, she marched over to the window and pushed it open again. Regretfully, she shooed the two owls out, having appeased them both with slivers of the ham that they Evans were having for lunch, and then she called to her sister to inform her that it was safe to come out.
Petunia marched in then, nose in the air and mouth pursed in disapproval. "God, Lily, get your junk off the table already!"
Lily glared at her older sister. "Good morning to you, too," she said loudly.
"Be nice, Pet," said Mr Evans. "It's your sister's birthday."
"Well, happy day," said Petunia snidely, not even looking at her redheaded sister as she sat down at the table, carelessly pushed the parcel wrappings and gifts aside. The quill-care case fell to the floor, and Lily shrieked angrily.
"Will you please be a little more careful?" Lily snapped. "That's a present!"
"Who's it from?" said Petunia unpleasantly. "Your boyfriend?"
"Shut up, Petunia," said Lily, not with a little irritation.
"Be nice, Petunia," her father warned.
Petunia did not recant; she picked savagely at the potatoes she had just spooned onto her plate. "Bloody witch," Lily heard her mutter under her breath.
Lily did not say anything; she merely gathered up her gifts and went upstairs.
Petunia had been more distant and harsh than usual these summer months. Their temporary truce over the Christmas holidays seemed to have dissolved over the spring, and Petunia was, if anything, even more unkind than she had been before. Lily was guiltily glad that her older sister spent more time out of the house than in, and that their encounters were few and far between.
Lily often missed the camaraderie she had shared with her sister before her Hogwarts letter. The two had been so close – Lily had really idolized Petunia. But when that letter had come… well, that had been the end of that. No more tea parties shared with their dolls; no more pooling allowance to buy huge bags of sweets or the occasional record; no more reading to each other late at night when they were supposed to have been asleep, illuminating their makeshift quilt-tents with a stolen torch. Those days were over, and Lily really did miss them.
These were such sombre thoughts to be thinking on her birthday. She stoutly resolved not to delve into them again today, and went to her room to get ready for her own celebrations.
While she was getting dressed, another owl came. This one was from James, and bore a box of truffles and a wizarding novel titled Widower, which, according to the information on the back, was the 'thrilling new tale of magic, murder and mystery by critically-acclaimed wizard Percival Cudgeon'. Apparently it was a whodunit. Not exactly the kind of book one expected to receive with a box of chocolates, but then again, Lily hadn't really been expecting either, and was nonetheless pleased at least by James' effort.
She finished dressing, made a mental note to send out thank-you cards later, and bounced down the steps into the main area of the house. Petunia was nowhere to be seen, and Lily noticed that the girl's shoes were gone from the front hall.
"You look nice," said her mother.
"I'm wearing the blouse you got me," Lily grinned. "It's awesome."
Her mother had bought her several articles of clothing for her birthday, and Lily, always impressed by her mum's unusually good taste in clothing – unusual for a mum, that is – was more than eager to show her gratitude. "I'm glad you like it," said Mrs Evans. "That green is so you."
Lily laughed. "If only the boys could see me like this," she said. "They'd die. Sirius would demand I burn it."
Mrs Evans looked surprised. "Whatever for?"
"Green's a Slytherin colour," Lily explained. "And the boys are terribly biased."
Mrs Evans rolled her eyes. "Boys," she sighed, reminding Lily exactly of Cordelia.
"Well," said Lily, filling a glass with tap water, "as soon as I grab my satchel, I think I'll be off."
"All right." Mrs Evans momentarily put down her newspaper, watching her daughter pluck her leather school bag up from the bench that rested against the eastern wall of the kitchen. "Don't forget your bike lock."
Mrs Evans always said that before Lily went out.
"I won't," Lily said, as she always did.
"Have fun. Be good."
"I will."
"And bring me back some of that marvellous chocolate!"
Lily laughed on her way out the door. "Sure, Mum."
Diagon Alley was warm and bright and semi-crowded today. It was a Saturday and people were doing their shopping. Lily met Eliza at Flourish and Blott's, and they exchanged greetings and idle chit-chat. Eliza gave Lily her birthday present – a basket of homemade peanut brittle and a pocket-sized book of poetry by E. E. Cummings. Lily thanked her profusely, and, resisting the urge to sit right down in the bookstore and devour both the peanut brittle and the poetry, she took Eliza's arm, and the two girls set off to scour the market for interesting buys.
It was two weeks after their first meeting in Diagon Alley, and Lily hadn't developed much of a shopping list since then. As it was, the most she spent that afternoon was two Galleons on fancy ice cream for both her and Eliza – she refused to let the other girl front the bill, claiming that, being the birthday girl, she should be allowed to spend her money in whatever way she wished. When they had finished their treat, they bid each other goodbye, content and full.
Lily watched Eliza go off down the street. When the girl had disappeared round the corner, Lily steeled herself and set off in the opposite direction – west, toward Knockturn Alley.
"Be sure to lock that cupboard once you're done with it," said Catilina as she stacked vials of the potion Severus had just brewed on the shelf. "And dispose properly of those scraps."
Severus grit his teeth. He knew all this, and Catilina knew he did. He knew she only reminded him to keep him humble, but it was irritating nonetheless. He tried not to slam the cupboard door he was supposed to lock.
"Business was good today," said his employer from the front of the shop. "I do believe it's picked up since you came."
Severus glanced over his shoulder in surprise. He couldn't see Catilina, but her lilting voice still carried over the threshold of the storage room door.
"But don't get a big head, Snape," she warned. "You still have a lot to learn, especially when it comes to people."
Severus rolled his eyes upward. Suddenly, she was standing at the doorway behind him, and when he looked back at her, she was smiling.
"Keep up the good work," she said.
He turned back the cauldron he was scrubbing. "Yes."
Knockturn Alley wasn't as empty as it had seemed the first time she had gone there. Then again, it was quitting time. Lily saw a number of strange and frightening characters coming down the street. She saw a rough-looking wizard, tall, dark, and bald, with a fake right eye – she knew it was fake for the fact that it glittered like a ruby in his craggy socket. An emaciated woman dressed in a bedraggled, decidedly nineteenth-century corset and skirts swept passed her on the walk, leering at Lily in a decidedly lecherous way as she brushed by. Lily felt her stomach turn over, and glanced away to see a wasted dwarf grinning up at her from a doorway with hollow eyes and rotten teeth. Lily shut her eyes and quickened her pace.
She arrived momentarily at the apothecary, and there she faltered. What if he threw her out? Or worse, what if he ignored her? How stupid would she feel then? But she couldn't let these thoughts take over her mind – she shook her head, took a breath, and with a façade of confidence, she pushed open the door.
The smell of herbs and dried things and strong, elemental magic invaded her nostrils, but Lily knew better than to be taken by surprise. The shop wasn't empty today; a fat older witch, garbed in badly-tailored robes, stood at the counter, talking with the red-haired witch from Lily's first visit.
Catilina straightened up as Lily entered, smiling in greeting. "Well, hello," she said, using the sleeve of her robe to brush imaginary dust off the aged countertop; "I was afraid my surly apprentice scared you off for good!"
Lily hadn't expected such a sudden greeting, and faltered a bit, adjusting her nearly-empty bag over her left shoulder. "Um. No, I'm used to that."
Catilina laughed her beautiful laugh. "I'm sure you are, sweet," she said, and glanced at the fat witch whose conversation she herself had interrupted. "Oh. Delilah, this is… I'm sorry, I don't know your name!"
"Nobody," said Lily without thinking, and Catilina raised an eyebrow.
"And I'll bet you'll be asking us to call you Odysseus next." She came around the counter, speaking to Delilah now. "Use it how I told you," she said, handing her a skinny tube of pale orange fluid. "It should take effect within two minutes. Owl me if you want more."
The fat witch thanked her and went out. Catilina then came toward Lily, her faded blue robes sweeping the creaking floor.
"Do you need anything from the shop today?" she asked, amusement in her voice.
Lily shook her head. "I wanted to talk to Snape," she said casually.
"I thought so. Well, he's almost finished in the back room. He'll probably be a bit snappish, but don't let that stop you – the boy could use some levity in his life. I swear, he's stiffer than a board."
Lily frowned to keep from grinning.
Footsteps from the store room dragged her attention away from the dusty hem of Catilina's robes. "It's all finished up in here, Ca – "
He broke off, staring at Lily as he stopped in the doorway.
"Well, then," said Catilina, as if nothing was amiss, "I guess you're free to go, Snape." And the witch brushed past him, into the dark of the store room.
"Good evening," said Lily, by way of greeting.
Snape didn't bother to scowl. "I thought I told you not to come back here," he said.
"You didn't."
Snape sighed gustily.
"And even if you did," she added, "I'm not entirely certain I would have stayed away."
"You're a fool," he said.
"Better to be an happy fool than a fretful genius," she said.
Snape sneered, and moved around the counter, rolling down the sleeves of his white shirt. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone, and Lily thought that she had never seen him looking so casual – or so Muggle. As he came around the counter, she saw that he was wearing pants. Black, of course, and a far cry from jeans, but she had never seen him wear anything but his usual black school robes and the sight was a shock to her.
"So, Evans, what exactly is it that impels you out of your no doubt idyllic abode all the way to Knockturn Alley?"
"I – I wanted to visit you," said Lily, cursing herself inwardly for faltering.
Snape snorted, but did not say anything as he rolled down his other sleeve.
"You're off now," she said; "we could go have tea or something."
"I don't think so."
"Don't want to be seen in public with a Mudblood?" she asked lightly.
He looked startled with her choice of words, but he didn't reply, and she took that as a yes.
"Then," she said, "come home with me. Have dinner." And, before he could protest, "It's my birthday. My mum won't refuse me a guest tonight."
He glanced up at her, and she could see the unease in his eyes. "I can't, Evans."
"Why?" said Lily, refusing to let her temper get the better of her. "Won't your parents allow it?"
Something horrible flashed in his expression then, and his mouth tightened in a firm, ominous line. Lily, knowing what he was about to say, gave an inaudible sigh and began to step backwards, toward the door. But then –
"No. No, I'll come."
I must be crazy, he thought as he followed the girl into Muggle London. I really do have a death wish. I should just turn right around –offer no explanation – and go home.
But as he stood there, waiting for her to unlock the contraption she had rode in on, he knew he wouldn't do anything. He would follow her to her house, meet her family, eat dinner, and linger. Because Achaicus would be furious if he found out. He'd flay Severus alive.
This thought gave Severus a potent, bitter pleasure, and was the reason for going along with Evans.
She seemed much more comfortable on the Muggle streets than she had in the apothecary – understandably – and was even so bold as to chatter to him about some spells she'd been dying to practice, but lamentably couldn't due to the restrictions on underage wizardry. This seemed strange to Severus, especially taking into consideration the fact that they were walking down a Muggle street, where anyone could overhear their conversation.
When he questioned her about her apparent disregard for the International Code of Secrecy, she looked blankly at him and informed him that Muggles didn't notice anything until it hit them in the face. "And anyway," she said, "if anyone overhears us talking about spells, they'll just think we're a couple of Dungeons and Dragons freaks and leave us alone."
Severus didn't understand the bearing dungeons and dragons might have had on the current conversation, and didn't care to know. He was silent, and she was too, apparently running out of things to say about the spells she had been reading about, or just discouraged by his lack of enthusiasm.
She broke the quiet at last. "So," she said, somewhat awkwardly, "do you Floo to work?"
Severus shook his head. "I walk," he said.
She looked interested. "Oh, so you live round here?"
"No, you idiot, I live in Eire."
She wasn't offended, and even chuckled a little bit. "All right, stupid question. But you live around here! I didn't know that."
"It came as a surprise to me, too."
Evans looked confused. "What?"
Severus actually debated telling her the story, but rejected that idea almost as soon as it had come to him. He didn't want her sympathy. "My… family recently relocated," he said instead.
"Oh." She nodded. "Well, that's nice, I suppose. Do you like it here?"
"I loathe it," he said.
She seemed taken aback. "Well, the city's not for everyone," she said at length. "Have you – that is, where did you live before?"
"Chesterfield," he said briefly.
"Hmm. Were there Muggles there?"
"No. At least, not in the vicinity of my home."
"You must love it here," she said, and he realized with some surprise that she was being ironic.
"But you," he said, "you live among Muggles."
"My parents are Muggles, yes," she said. "As is my sister, as are my aunts and uncles and what's left of my grandparents. And all my old friends."
He didn't speak. He couldn't imagine growing up without magic. He wondered how her family had reacted when she got her letter of admission from Hogwarts.
"Anyway," she said, "you'll only have to meet the immediate family this evening. And probably only the parents. Petunia – that's my sister; she's older than me – she hasn't been around much lately."
Severus was surprised to learn that Evans had a sibling at all. She had never talked about this sister, and he had assumed that she, like he, was an only child. A thoughtless assumption.
"My parents are Robert and Frida. Dad's a writer. He compiles technical texts and indexes them and that kind of thing. I'm not exactly sure. Mum sews a lot; sometimes our neighbours come to her to have a dress done for their daughter's wedding or something."
When he didn't answer, she cleared her throat and continued. "What does your father do?"
Severus stiffened. "He is a banker in the international department at Gringotts," he said – which, as far as he knew, had been his father's business up until a couple of months ago.
"That's interesting." Evans seemed to perk up, oblivious to the lie. "Does that entail a lot of travel?"
"Sometimes, yes," said Severus.
"So he spends a lot of time away from home?"
Severus sighed. "Yes."
She must have mistaken his irritation for regret, because she glanced away at once and said, "Sorry. I'm getting nosy."
"No, it's fine," Severus said, and she glanced at him in utter shock. He understood the feeling: since when did he excuse anyone, even if they did apologize? He could have kicked himself. He looked the other way, and hoped she would forget the slip.
"Anyway," Evans said, having cleared her throat, "is there anything else you need to know about my Muggle family before you meet them?"
"Nothing I can immediately think of."
"All right. Well, if you do think of something, don't hesitate to ask. Your clothes look Muggle enough that Petunia won't freak, but I wouldn't talk much about magic in front of her. She… doesn't really…."
"She hates you, doesn't she?"
Evans started visibly. "Of course not!" she said, sounding earnestly surprised, and a little discomforted. "Why would you say a thing like that?"
Severus raised an eyebrow. "She's a Muggle," he said.
Evan's puzzled expression turned into a scowl. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Severus rolled his eyes. He knew Evans better than to think that she was genuinely curious; he had the distinct feeling that she was being deliberately thick. "Oh please, Evans, spare me. You know Muggles hate us just as much as we hate them."
Evans stopped in the middle of the walk. "Now, you know that's not true," she said flatly. "You're putting too much of a generalization on things, Snape. Not all Muggles are like my sister. And I don't hate Muggles."
"Well, of course not," Severus snorted. "You did grow up with them, after all."
She looked a little hurt, and Severus had the grace to at least feel embarrassed, but when she spoke, her voice was controlled and neutral.
"Plenty other wizards can appreciate Muggles despite their being unmagical," she said. "And plenty Muggles can get along just fine with wizards."
"Name one," said Severus.
Evans was flustered, and sputtered a bit. "I – I can't," she said, blushing to match her hair. "Not off the top of my head. But this is a big world, Snape – and people are different. Believe me, there are more sympathetic Muggles out there than you think."
Severus scoffed, but before he could respond, she held out a hand to stop him, and said in a very different tone, "Here we are."
They stood before the small Evans house, which was painted a dark avocado and all but crushed between its neighbours. The garden was tiny but bloomed beautifully, and Severus noted with a wry smile that growing within there was no nightshade or mandrake or zedoary – or really anything but a fine collection of various-coloured full-blown roses. The front walk was narrow, but the green growing between the slabs of cement was neatly trimmed, and Severus found he didn't really mind the pure, cloying smell of the flowers.
Before him, Evans squeezed down the little path, and the roses, crawling in profusion out of their lot, nearly blocked her from view as he followed behind. And then they stood on the porch, and she was stowing her bike beside a pair of muddy green wellies and a porcupine-shaped boot-scraper. The door, painted a deep forest green, stood ajar, and from within the house Severus could hear the sounds of music and casual chatter.
He was suddenly filled with trepidation at the thought of what lay beyond that innocent doorway, and Evans noticed his hesitation and turned to glance back at him.
"First thing I'm going to do when I get in," she said fervently, "is get a glass of something cold. It's hot out."
And she disappeared into the dim of the house.
She knew that tempting him with refreshments was sneaky, but she didn't care. She'd gone to enough trouble to get him this far, and she'd be damned if he turned back now. And, wonder of wonders, her ploy seemed to work – for he followed her in, stepping cautiously over the threshold as if he expected it to hold some Dark magic in store for trespassing Slytherins. But he entered more or less unscathed, and she could see his unease abate somewhat.
"Hey Mum," she called, swinging her satchel onto the steps and kicking off her shoes. "Mum, are you in?"
Her mother's voice came from the sitting room. "In here, hon."
Lily threw an encouraging smile to Snape – he seemed somewhat less than encouraged – and padded into the next room, where her mother was watering the potted plants that bloomed in abundance there. "Did you have a good time?" said Mrs Evans, not looking up from her watering can. Lily glanced once more at Snape, who still stood in the hallway, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.
"Yes, it was wonderful," she said. "Um, I hope you don't mind – I brought home a guest."
Mrs Evans looked up at that, and Snape stepped forward as Lily made room for him in the doorway. "Quite all right," said Mrs Evans, though her face showed a little surprise. Lily smiled and made the introductions.
"Mum, this is Severus Snape – he's in my year at Hogwarts." Turning to Snape, she said, "This is my mother, Frida Evans."
Mrs Evans set down her watering can and fisted her hands on her hips. "Pleasure to meet you, Severus," she said. "I do believe Lily's mentioned you before."
"He's the one who brought my Potions grade up to an O," Lily said.
"Will you be staying for dinner?" said Mrs Evans.
"If it is not objectionable," said Snape, and Lily just barely contained a snort of laughter at his stiff tone. Mrs Evans looked similarly amused.
"We'd be pleased to have you," she said. "Dinner won't be ready for a while yet – the casserole's still in the oven. And Lily – Petunia's bringing a friend or two, I hope you don't mind – "
"It's fine," said Lily, but she wondered if it would be. She remembered very clearly the Christmas dinner, and tried not to visibly cringe. "Um. How long do you think it'll be until we eat?"
"Oh, forty-five minutes or so."
"Okay." She turned to address Snape, who was looking decidedly lost. "Let's go get something to drink."
They went to the kitchen, and she opened up the icebox to peer inside. "Orange juice, milk, cola. Take your pick."
"Cola?" said Snape dubiously.
"Pepsi-Cola. Pop. It's good," she added, and took two frosty bottles from the icebox. She rummaged through a drawer for the bottle opener.
"Why don't we go upstairs," she said, popping off the cap off one bottle and handing it to Snape.
"What's upstairs?" he said as he sniffed gingerly at the open mouth of the bottle.
"Stuff. Come on."
"This is my room," she said, opening up a door in the hallway. "It's little." She went in, flipping a switch on the wall – Severus flinched as a bright yellow light snapped on. "Those," she said, gesturing toward a cardboard box sitting atop a large wooden chest at the end of the bed, "are my pride and joy. Here." She indicated what looked like a plush saucer balanced atop a wicker frame. "You can sit if you want. Do you know what an LP is?"
He sat down on the saucer – it was much more comfortable than it looked – and shook his head.
"I didn't think you would. I'll show you."
Evans went over to a boxy device balanced on an end table on the other side of the room and depressed a button. A large black disk on top of the device began to slowly rotate. She adjusted a bar of plastic so its head rested atop the spinning black disk, and for a moment there was a crackling sound. Then, music.
"This is the latest Pink Floyd album," she said. "It's called Wish You Were Here. It just came out this month."
"Ah," said Severus, who had just taken his first sip of cola and had been rather surprised by all the bubbles.
"Here, check out the sleeve," she said, and tossed him a rather large envelope. On the front was a photo of two men shaking hands. One of them was on fire.
"There's another sleeve inside," said Evans, and Severus pulled it out and examined it.
At length he handed it back wordlessly.
"So," she said, flopping down on the bed, drawing a pillow up under her chin. "How long have you been working at that apothecary?"
"Since the third day back."
"Ah. You're quick. Does it pay well?"
"It's adequate."
"I should get a job. I'm just too lazy, I guess. So, where do you live?"
"I told you before."
"I mean, which street?"
"Why?" he said suspiciously.
"So I can send a Howler to your house, berating you for being so difficult," she said, but there was no true irritation in her voice – at least, not that Severus could tell. "Because I'd like to know."
Severus' breath hissed noisily through his teeth. "I'd rather not say," he said.
Evans shrugged. "Okay." Then: "Finished all your holiday assignments yet?"
Severus shook his head. "No."
"Me neither. I've still got the essays for Professor Helvetii and Professor Binns."
Severus scoffed at the mention of the ghostly teacher. He'd learned more about wizarding history in an afternoon of perusing his father's old library than he had in four years of classes with Binns.
"What've you got left?"
"Patina's, Edwards' and Flitwick's."
"Any idea what you're going to do for Charms?"
"Don't know," he said, taking a drink of cola. It was cold, and the bubbles stung his throat in what he decided was a satisfying way. "Probably something on Transliteration spells."
"Scribendi,"said Evans.
"No, narrativum."
"The first one's more efficient."
"Hm."
Severus leaned back in the chair, tipping his chin up as he rested his head on the rim of the saucer. Evans was silent; he could hear the words of the song –
...Come on you boy child, you winner and loser, come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!
Somewhere downstairs, a door opened and slammed shut. On the bed, Evans smiled and sat up. "Dad's home," she said, and got to her feet.
He followed her out of the room and down the stairs. But halfway down she stopped, and he heard her mutter, "Oh, rats. It's Petunia."
"Lily?"
"Up here," Evans sighed, and continued down the stairs.
Standing in the hall below was a bony girl dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, her blonde hair falling around her face in tight pin-curls. She looked faintly ill-at-ease, and her face had a certain pinched quality about it that denoted some lasting sort of tension. Severus knew she was trouble.
"Oh, you're home," said the blonde girl – Evans' sister – and she frowned a little. "I've brought a friend; he'll be staying for supper."
"So've I," said Evans, and glanced back at Severus.
"I see," said the other girl, in frigid tones. Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Petunia, this is Severus Snape. Um, Severus, this is my older sister, Petunia."
"Vernon's in the kitchen," said Petunia, disregarding Severus but for a cold look. "Is Dad home yet?"
"No – who's Vernon?"
A rosy tint lit up the blonde girl's cheeks. "A friend," she said stiffly, and when Severus arched an eyebrow, she scowled at him. "What're you smirking at, freak?" she snapped.
Both of Severus' eyebrows shot up at that. "It's an interesting way you Muggles have of greeting guests in your homes," he said coolly. "Perhaps it's just us wizards, but I'm not accustomed to such rudeness. You'll forgive me if I balk."
"Lily," said the blonde girl, "I swear I shall not eat with that creature sitting at the same table."
Severus jumped, not because of the girl's less-than-flattering words but because Evans the younger had laid a hand on his arm as she addressed her sister. He was so surprised that he missed the first half of her scolding.
"…no need to be like that," Evans was saying, sounding highly irritated and not just a little embarrassed. "I've never been so rude to your guests."
Evans the elder snorted and flounced out of the hallway.
Beside him, the red-haired girl heaved a silent sigh. "I'm so sorry," she muttered at last, removing her hand from his arm. "She's usually not that hostile. Don't know what got into her."
"She's a Muggle, Evans," said Severus, suddenly uncomfortable. "I didn't expect anything else."
Evans' flashing green eyes met his. "But you should have," she said, and he was surprised to hear a note of anger in her voice. "That's no excuse, Severus. We're people, too – just because we don't have wizarding parents doesn't mean we should forget our manners."
"They're all the same," said Severus. Her use of his given name hadn't gone unnoticed, and now he was even more uncomfortable.
"What, you think my parents are like her?" Evans snapped. But her fierce expression immediately softened, and she touched her hand hesitantly to his arm again. "I'm sorry," she said for the second time in as many minutes. "I didn't mean to lash out. Please, Snape – don't hold it against her. I know she was dreadfully rude, but she's my sister, and I love her anyway, even if I don't particularly like her."
Severus sighed. "I'll mind my manners," he acquiesced.
"I expected nothing less of you," she murmured, and took him by the arm into the parlour.
Dinner was an uneasy affair. Mr Evans arrived home soon after Petunia, and he seemed quite pleased to meet Snape, but the evening pretty much went downhill from there.
Vernon, as it turned out, was a hulking lump of a young man who seemed to possess a rugby ball for a brain. Needless to say, he wasn't extremely tactful, and he took an immediate dislike for Snape, who only returned the sentiment. But Lily was proud of him, and knew that he had made a much better impression on her parents than Vernon could ever hope to make. For one thing, Snape possessed the valuable ability to maintain a conversation for more than thirty seconds without bringing up the subject of rugby or football, and that was a welcome contrast to Vernon's contributions to the conversation. This wasn't to say that Snape was particularly talkative, but he spoke civilly and intelligently enough when addressed.
Lily was also quite relieved when he proved himself quite adept at dodging pesky questions that might give away one of those jealously-guarded secrets concerning their mutual nature and education. She got the sneaking suspicion that Petunia had let on about her sister's expensive boarding school, and Vernon proved to be quite curious about the nature of Lily's education, so the young witch and wizard spent a harrowing meal evading anything that smelled like the truth.
She was immensely glad when the meal ended and Vernon announced that he had to leave. Petunia saw him out to his car and returned to the house some minutes later looking quite grumpy.
The parents had retired to the upstairs bedroom. Lily was sitting in the parlour with Snape, who was watching the television with some interest. She stood as her sister entered, hoping to avoid the girl, but she was too late. Petunia marched up to her and hissed in her face, "You're damn lucky."
This wasn't what Lily had been expecting to hear, and she inquired in surprise, "What?"
But Petunia had already stormed away, heading toward her bedroom, no doubt. Lily glanced over her shoulder at Snape, who was regarding her with a hooded expression.
"He was damn lucky," he said, no inflection whatsoever in his voice. His left hand had gone to his right sleeve, where Lily could see the end of his wand poking out of his buttoned white cuff.
"God," Lily muttered, and sat down on the floor beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It was awful."
He was silent a moment. "It could've been worse."
"Not by much." She gave a bleak laugh, and grabbed a pillow off the couch and lay back on the brown carpet, staring up at the ceiling. "Sorry it was so awful."
"Don't apologize." He sounded stiff, and she glanced at him – his gaze was focused on the wall clock above their heads. "If anyone should, it's me."
"Why?"
He glanced at her, a wry smirk twisting his mouth. "Because I crashed your party."
Lily snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. It was her fault."
"Hmm." He turned away, and Lily reached out to touch his bare hand. She saw him start, and a dash of colour spring suddenly to his cheeks.
"I should be going," he said suddenly, and began to get to his feet.
Lily sat up immediately and grabbed his sleeve before he could stand. "Oh, don't go yet," she said in cajoling tones, but he slowly untangled his sleeve from her fingers and stood.
"If I don't leave now…."
Lily sighed. "All right. But, would you like something to drink before you go?"
He shrugged, and when she held out a hand he didn't hesitate in helping her up, though he looked a little surprised afterward. She thought his hand was very warm.
She got him another Pepsi, and he left then, after a brief but comfortable good-bye. She stood at the door and watched him disappear into the gloom of the evening.