A/N:I should be ducking rotten fruits and vegetables right now! I'm so sorry I haven't gotten around to updating. School and my birthday (on the fourteenth of November) and a bunch of other commitments got in the way. Anyway, onward!
X Ink and hand
"Straighten out ya tie, Severus," Tobias Snape grunted briskly to his son, walking down the narrow hallway with furrowed brows and a heavy coat. It was black with loosely sewn cuffs and wrinkles all over. It was also, quite possibly, the fanciest jacket in the entire Snape household. "And ya need to get a belt. These trousers are too ruddy big. When will ya build a fuckin' frame? And for Christ's sake do something with that hair of yours!"
Tobias grabbed a pack of fags from a nearby table before telling Severus he'd be waiting in the car and that he'd best "get his arse out the door quickly".
A heavy sigh escaped the sallow teen as he scratched his scalp and walked to his room in search of the blasted accessory. He finally found it in an old dresser drawer by his wardrobe, lying sadly next to shirts and pairs of trousers he hadn't worn since around 1968. He buckled on the leaden brown belt and before walking out the door he glanced at himself in the mirror. The dour visage reflected back at him was no surprise to Severus. The tense muscles above his brows dug deep into his skin; his nose, if possible, looked even bigger than usual; the corners of his mouth, certainly not lifting, were not wilting either. On the contrary, they remained in a thin, straight line.
He attempted to relax his harsh expression, unwind his scowl and pale lips. Severus tried to lift the sides of his mouth into a smile. It didn't last long. It wasn't so much a smile as the perverse grimace of a madman and it truly startled him. He decided he was better off looking authentic, which meant a sullen expression.
Severus' fingers gingerly began to straighten out his grey tie as he gave himself a once-over before speed-walking down the narrow staircase, through the cramped, musty sitting room, and out the door.
Tobias' car's motor revved up on the wet cobblestone street, damp from the melted remnants of the previous night's light snowfall. Now it was windy. Wind with a wicked chill that pierced through his skin and made a beeline straight for the antechambers of his heart, making him quiver and pull his jacket tighter around his torso.
The door of the passenger seat creaked and screeched as Severus shut it. He found his father trying to light a cigarette between his cupped hands and he soon prevailed, taking in a deeper drag than usual. Tobias squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers; a gesture that Severus had unknowingly acquired from him. He exhaled again, this time his own carbon dioxide, and turned to his son.
"Alright?" he mumbledgenuine concern in his disposition Severus shrugged, and gave his father a sideways look, but did a double take and really looked hard at his father's face and shuddered by how hauntingly similar they looked to one another: same pale skin, large hooked nose, lean frame, dark hair and eyes…but that mirror image was suddenly altered as his father took another drag.
"Nervous?" he asked, smoke issuing out of his large nostrils. The motor was still running, but they have yet to have moved along the road.
"Not particularly," Severus lied, pushing a strand of his stringy black hair from out of his face and behind his ear.
Tobias sighed and picked up his pack of cigarettes again and lit a fresh one, offering it to Severus.
"Here, this'll loosen you up a bit," Tobias said, as though doing Severus a huge favour. Severus looked at the smoking white stick. "Don't just waste it, boy."
"I don't want it," Severus scoffed, still eyeing the cigarette. "It's unhealthy, stains your teeth, smells horrid, bad for you lungs—"
"Don't start actin' like a fuckin' pansy, Severus, and take the damn fag." Tobias heaved a sigh of exasperation. What an imbecile, Severus thought as he growled, snatched the smoking cigarette from his father, and inhaled angrily. He quickly regretted it, however, as he started coughing and tasting the sick essence of tobacco and tar interacting with his saliva; his nose burning from the smoke.
Tobias chuckled and put the car into drive. "Can't even smoke a fag," he cried.
"Well, sorry," Severus coughed again. "For not being experienced in the art of smoking."
The car was slowly filling up with an overpowering smell of tobacco, and Severus felt his head start to throb. Looking out the car window at the trees and the looming mill was hardly helping
"You're wasting it again," Tobias said, sobering up from his derisive comments.
"It isn't food. You're acting as though I should be thinking about starving child in a third world—" Severus snapped.
"—God damn it! You've got Eileen's nerve!" Tobias exclaimed, clutching the wheel tighter with his large hands and taking another drag before his demeanour changed once again from irritation to grief. And with that, Severus took another drag of the fuming cigarette. He coughed again in a big huff of smoke. Now he was frustrated. He was suddenly determined to take a drag without coughing up a lung. And he did, on his third attempt, without a single cough or wheeze.
Nearly half an hour passed, and they were still driving along the village. Tobias was on his second smoke of the day and Severus was finishing his first one off, amusing himself with the poison he emitted from his lips, watching it dissolve into nothingness and becoming one with the air in the small car. Why he kept smoking and flicking the ashes and watching the smoke expel from his nose due to the inane suggestion of his father, he didn't know. He liked to think he was just stressed. It wouldn't become a habit. And it did make him feel slightly better. It was just a mediocre stress reliever. It wasn't as if he actually enjoyed it. He was no fool. Or so he fancied himself believing.
His momentary decent mood quickly turned sour as he felt the car slow down and turn right, into a dirt driveway that led to a small building. It looked quaint from a far, resembling a large small house and surrounded wet, frostbitten grass and leafless trees. As the car edged closer he noticed chipped paint and cracked stone stairs leading up to the entrance of a large mahogany door and the building certainly looked different closer up. Only a couple of cars were parked. Severus assumed a few more would arrive. Most of them would be neighbours who had found out about the death, and most of them would hardly know who Eileen was, and probably felt obligated to go, rather than feeling genuine compassion or grief. But it was a rather open funeral, or so Tobias planned. They didn't have the time, and good Lord they didn't have the money, to send out private announcements. The car stopped; the cigarette was no more than a stub and was quickly thrown on the gravel as father and son stepped out of their car. Tobias was decked out in his best jacket, wearing his best trousers and his most formal dress shoes as the wind and dead leaves whipped around them. The heels of their shoes clicked and clunked along the pavement, each step louder than the last and each step closer and closer to the end of a chapter in his life, and onto a next, quite possibly worse, more gruesome and melancholy one.
XXX
Lily Evans was not in a good mood…at all. The train ride up had consisted of trying to read the book Alexander gave her and listening to her mother drone on about current events. She couldn't concentrate. It was too damn cold, too damn hard to read while in motion, and there was a damn five-year-old girl constantly approaching her and asking her questions. She was a precious girl, really, very cute with curly pigtails and big brown eyes; but after being asked "whatcha doin'?" for the seventeenth time within three minutes, she had had enough. Even sleeping proved to be difficult! By the time she disembarked the train Lily was ready to get on her hands and knees and kiss the ground like an immigrant. However, that was also difficult due to an extremely assertive elderly man pushing past everyone on the train. And the ground was too cold anyway, she supposed. Not to mention the fact that her lipstick may have attracted bits of gravel.
The town was much like she thought Lancanshire would look: tough and old–fashioned, yet somewhat picturesque and interesting.
After nearly an hour of searching for a cab, the Evans women arrived at a small, sad-looking crematorium along the side of a country road, surrounded by dying foliage and dirt. Lily found it rather gloomy as she walked up the stone staircase and through the double doors. The entrance hall was a little full, and people turned around as the doors leading to the main room opened and shut. Many seemed to be rather acquainted with one another as they laughed and talked with one another with such a casual air that Lily could tell that her mother felt uncomfortable.
"So, let's find a seat, shall we?" Matilda instructed, and the women found a seat on a cushioned bench in the middle of the aisle to the left of the main walkway. Matilda briefly chatted to the old Yorkshire woman beside her, while Lily began to lick her lips and look at her watch and tap her foot like a madwoman.
"It should have started already," Lily commented as she looked around the dim room and the buzzing crowd.
"Don't rush a funeral," Matilda chided as she excused herself from the woman. "It will start any minute now. I wonder where Eileen's husband is? Oh, what was his name? Started with a P? Paul? Was it Paul? No, no, no, not Paul. Keith? No, not that either. Perhaps Gregory? Yes! Yes it was Gregory! The son too! Spencer, I think. I wonder how he is faring?"
"I'm sure not so well, Mum," Lily whispered, trying to comprehend how a boy her age could bear his mother taking her own life, and on Christmas morning? Quite possibly the worst day of the year to do such a thing!
"Oh, that must be them, dear!" Matilda grabbed Lily's wrist and turned around in their seats towards a small group of mourners giving whispered condolences to two figures. Lily spotted the tallest first. He wasn't a very attractive man; possibly in his forties, with a very large nose and large ears. He looked slightly uneasy. She scanned the crowd of women and men dressed in homely suits and dresses and skirts until her eyes fell on an old woman who seemed to be in deep conversation with a tall young man, nearly the same height as the man she had seen. Half of his body was obscured by the woman's unnecessarily large, black, frilly hat, but the moment she gave him a pat on the back and walked away, Lily's stomach clenched.
No, it can't be, Lily told herself over and over and over again and nearly laughed by the absurdity of what she was witnessing. But seconds later, the young man's line of vision landed directly on Lily.
XXX
I think I'm on drugs, Severus contemplated, in a complete stupor. Yes…that's it: drugs. Or maybe that cigarette was laced with something…
He refused to believe that he stood in the same room as Lily Evans. Lily. Evans. School Lily Evans. The girl he had received a gift from just the other day, one of the most popular witches at Hogwarts, and quite possibly the last person he expected to see at his mother's funeral.
He was enthralled by the sight of her, scant feet away from him in a dark grey button-up dress and black pea–coat, with her dark red hair contrasting the gloomy garb. She was staring right back at him, her red lips open slightly and her green eyes wide yet blank. He hardly felt his father nudging him along the centre aisle towards the front row. She just had to sit in the row seat. She just had to stare at him with the indiscretion that only Lily could possess with those bothersome green eyes of hers. And she just had to wear a perfume that tickled his nose and make him—
"ACHOO!" Severus sneezed.
"Bless you!" Several people chirped and some simpered at the irony. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but pure embarrassment.
He hardly had to take another step when he heard horrid organ music start playing. Where did that come from, anyway? Where on Earth was the organ player— Oh, it was a record player hiding in the corner of the stage…and then there was the coffin. He hadn't noticed it before that moment, but there it stood on the raised floor. A few melting candles surrounded the tomb, as well as a few flowers.
"Very simple, yeah?" Tobias whispered in Severus' ear over the tune.
Severus nodded.
"All we could afford. The will's gonna be handled soon, though," Tobias shrugged and straightened out his jacket.
The prayers began seconds later, and soon the first hymn—'Abide With Me', he noticed—was sung, accompanied by horrible organ music. And thus began the half-hearted and terribly disjointed singing. It was almost embarrassing how hard it was for some people to be the slightest bit in tune.
He turned his head slightly as he mouthed the words of the cheery hymn to look at Lily again, who was facing forward and singing along. It was strange; she looked so at peace, with the glow of the lights of the main room illuminating her and her mouth moving with the lyrics—in perfect timing, he realized. And as though she had eyes at the sides of her head she looked towards him again and her mouth stumbled but she soon collected the pattern of the uplifting hymn and her eyes didn't leave his own…like she was singing at him. And momentarily, in that cold crematorium, he didn't feel so alone.
XXX
And they stared at each other for what felt like hours. Really getting a good look at each other, and Lily assumed that he, like her, was wondering why the hell the other was there. It was definitely Severus Snape. Who could forget a frown and nose like that? And she was in fact mourning a woman she knew; talked to, saw a week ago at a damn tea house in Diagon Alley! What on this great green Earth were the odds?
Eileen was a witch. Severus was a wizard. Pure-blood, of course. Everybody knew that. It was as common knowledge as Evan Rosier being a prick. So why was the deceased—also pure-blood, Lily assumed—witch surrounded by a bunch of mourning Muggles? Before Lily could contemplate the ridiculousness of all of this, she felt a pinch on her side and jumped in surprise.
"Stop staring at that boy, Lily!" Matilda whispered under her breath. "You know it's rude to stare."
"But Mum—" Lily breathed and turned in his direction again, only to see his back turned to her.
"That boy seems to be watching the funeral service rather than teenage girls," Matilda chuckled.
She groaned. "I swear to—"
"We're in a church, Lily!" Matilda hushed.
"It's not technically a church," Lily pointed out after singing another verse.
"I don't care if we're in a submarine…at least don't use that sort of language in a church. Heaven knows we haven't been attending regular—" Matilda started but was droned out by the organ music increasing in volume and then halting completely. The funeral director then began to sing in a new tune and both Evans women promptly sang along to a new hymn, a graver one with less cheer.
The Evans were never strict Christians. Her mother stopped going after she hurt her back years ago while at work, but they had attended church enough in her childhood for Lily to recognize the songs. She only remembered going to one other funeral in her life: her grandmother's. The memory was a blur, whether from her tears or disbelief at the death. It was at a quaint church with a manicured front lawn and a beautiful chapel with mahogany pews; the sunlight came in just so—very picturesque. Until the coffin was seen. The coffin with her grandmother inside, waiting to be cremated, turned to ash, and scattered wherever her will specified.
She thought of the flames that must have engulfed her grandmother…the furnace and the smoke…and she remembered the nightmares and nights waking with her heart nearly leaping out of her chest and her breath heavy and fast. Suddenly, Lily's heart clenched as she glanced at Severus' back and tried to imagine how he must feel. She glanced at her mother, replaced her in the coffin, being pulled behind the curtain…
What was prompting her to have such thoughts? Was it the dreary hymn, the coffin, the faint scent of candle wax? Candle wax to flame. Flame to coffin. Coffin to mother to curtain to ashes to God knows where.
Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath and indiscreetly brushed her arm against her mother's, sighing as she had confirmation that she was still there at her side, singing in her terrible singing voice and hoping that Jesus wouldn't pop out from behind the funeral director's podium and smite her daughter.
She knew what she had to do after the service. She had to talk to Severus Snape.
XXX
The funeral was almost complete. The director had said what he was paid to say: how lovely of a human she was, how her soul shall be accepted by God, and how her time spent on this Earth would always be remembered. So on, so forth, all bollocks coming from some man who didn't even know what kind of a woman Eileen had really been. Severus did, however, find slight satisfaction in the fact that a nice amount of neighbours and acquaintances had taken the time to show up, even if they didn't know anything about Eileen either.
"And now we shall complete this service, the funeral of Eileen Snape, with a final hymn," the director said in a staccato monotone that even Severus couldn't muster. "The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want."
And so it was ending. Any minute now she would be pulled behind the curtains. And then the disjointed singing began again, for a final time.
He makes me down to lie in pastures green
Morbid though it was, Severus couldn't help wondering what his mother looked like now. Was she cleaned up by a cadaver specialist, or just slowly rotting and within her wooden chamber?
He leadeth me the quiet waters by.
Would he even recognize her? Of course he would. You don't forget your own mother.
My soul He doth restore again
And as the prayer progressed, Severus felt more rushed, more worried.
And me to walk doth make within the paths of righteousness
What if she wasn't dead? This could just be her taking the mickey out of him. She would just open the coffin…
Even for His own Name's sake
Jump out…
Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, yet will I fear no ill
And run up to him and tell him she was just joking, that it was a horrible joke and that it's alright and they'd go home to drink some tea with a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey or some bitter cup of coffee.
For Thou art with me
Was the prayer at this fast pace seconds earlier? They were singing faster, he was sure of it. Why did they want to her to be taken behind the curtain so fast? Slow down! Slow down, damn it! Severus' throat clenched and he gulped and couldn't help staring straight at the coffin. He stopped singing. His mouth wouldn't move. It was too fast…too damn fast…
And Thy rod
His head was spinning, the whole damn room was rotating, and he had to close his eyes just to regain his balance. But with his eyes shut images, fuzzy images without clarity filtered through; memories of Eileen at a different time. Eileen before she told Tobias she was a witch. When they would all go to the closest cinema on a hot summer day, or when she would take him to a lake which certainly wasn't the cleanest in England, and that time when he skinned his knee while running down the road and Eileen bandaged this cut and pretended he was her patient for the rest of the day, taking requests from him like a nurse.
And staff my comfort still
And then there were the gloomy memories of the time Tobias hit Eileen, or when they yelled in the car all those times before she refused to go inside "that Muggle contraption" again. Then there were her letters to him, some of which he burned in the Slytherin fireplace at night…
My table Thou hast furnishèd
Of course, there were the grey areas…but there are always grey areas.
In presence of my foes
He opened his eyes, and the hymn seemed to return to its normal pace, droning and steady.
My head Thou dost with oil anoint
Any moment now…
And my cup overflows
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tobias swaying and shifting slightly. His eyes were closed and his head bowed and he still smelled of cigarettes, a smell that didn't blend well with sweet fragrance of flowers just feet away from him.
Goodness and mercy all my life
Eileen didn't come out yet.
And in God's house forevermore
And the curtain began to lift.
My dwelling place shall be
Eileen Snape, a daughter, wife, friend, and mother…was now becoming mere ashes.
And for some reason, he hated her for it.
XXX
She had to find him.
She had to know where he slithered off to right after the rise and fall of the curtain.
She had to find out what the hell was going on!
"I'll be right back," Lily told her mother, who was already in conversation with a woman who was seated behind her. "I'm going to find the loo."
"Alright, dear," Matilda said, and returned to her discussion.
She found herself feeling gradually more nervous as she tried to search for him through the crowd. Why did it seem as though the amount of witnesses to the funeral doubled? The room was hot from the burning candles, the heating system to burn off the winter chill, and of course from rubbing elbows with the various people in the room; body heat which made Lily start to sweat. Strong, cheap perfume radiated off one particularly rotund woman while heavy cigars exuded from a circle of male Tykes speaking rapidly to one another. A lone toddler moaned, somebody coughed, and a shrill, merry voice said, "Good heavens! I thought you died years ago!"
She saw and heard everything but a tall slumped figure with a condescending voice.
That was, until she freed herself from the pit of bodies and emerged into the small entrance hall. She spotted a flash of moving body at the corner of her eye going past the heavy double doors of the crematorium which closed dramatically in the figure's wake. She rushed to the door, pushed it open and yelled, "Wait! Wait, Snape! Snape!"
What she thought, hoped was Severus…definitely wasn't Severus.
"'Ello, girly!" chirped a man with a shiny bald head and a raggedy coat, who had turned around at the call. He was missing a few teeth as well.
Lily Evans was absolutely mortified.
"Oh, s-sorry, sir. Mistook you for s-someone else," Lily stuttered in embarrassment. If her cheeks were already red from the cold, she imagined she resembled a fire truck by now.
The man nodded his head, tipped his hat at her, and continued on his way towards the gloomy parking lot.
Lily was close to retreating back into the crowd back at the crematorium. She would have, indeed, if she hadn't looked out in front of her, across the small road, and seen a tall, gangly figure standing impatiently by a spindly tree.
Definitely the one she was looking for, this time. He even had teeth.
She strode across the dirt road, hard and moist from the weather, and approached him with a hint of apprehension, especially since he was staring straight at her as she advanced with a strange vigour and harsh determination in her steps. Suddenly she grew nervous. What would she ask first?
She opened her mouth wide; ready to yell, question, apologize for his mother, she had no idea. However, fortunately or unfortunately, she wasn't the first to speak when she was just a few feet away.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" the boy in question asked. Darkening bags had begun to develop underneath his eyes and his skin looked paler than usual: he looked like hell on a pair of skinny legs. "I'd really appreciate an answer, Evans. Now."
"Oh, don't talk to me like that," Lily snapped, her queries forgotten and replaced with utter frustration. "I wouldn't mind a few questions answered myself!"
"I asked first!" Severus retorted.
"Well I thought about it first," Lily said with her index finger in the air.
"You're being difficult, as usual, Evans," Severus groaned.
"And you aren't?" Lily grunted to herself.
A sharp wind gusted by, and both gasped and shuddered. They stood in silence, distracting themselves with the scenery…or lack thereof, in Lily's humble opinion. Though the trees did look marvellously novelistic and haunting, an opportune feature of nature. Yes, novelistic. From a book set in the rural English moors of the nineteenth century, perhaps. These thoughts, however, simply made her think of her warm, comfortable bed and snuggling up with a book: definitely not this environment.
She noticed that he, on the other hand, seemed determined not to look in her direction in the slightest. In fact, he leaned against the decaying tree and steadied his gaze in the opposite direction: an open, green, sad-looking field of wet grass. First he demands an answer to his question and now he was ignoring her? What was his bloody problem?
She sighed. She was bursting to have her hundreds of questions answered, and simply standing and thinking about classic novels wasn't going to do anything.
"How…I mean…yeah, how…did she…?" Lily croaked quietly, though her heart was pounding like a drum beneath her bosom; hoping she wasn't insensitive in any way.
Severus sighed himself, but it was one of annoyance and irritation rather than nervousness. She waited for over a minute for a response: she didn't get one.
This wasn't working. She needed a new approach. No beating around the bush.
"I saw a man in there," Lily walked closer towards him, until she stood directly in the way of his view and staring right into his glaring eyes. "He looked like you, Snape. And he certainly didn't seem like any puffed-up Slytherin pure-blood wizard I've ever seen."
Severus lightly shifted his weight from one foot to another and folded his arms across his chest. "And what of it?" he growled, his teeth nearly bare.
"What of it?" Lily raised her voice. "I'm assuming that man was your father, Snape."
"Oh, very good, Evans. You get a biscuit!" Severus scoffed.
"—And if Eileen was a witch—" She advanced upon him, her voice still rising and another gust of wind blowing her hair around her, as well as his lanky shoulder-length strands.
"Yeah?"
"Then that means—"
"Enlighten me, Evans!"
Lily was now less than a foot away from him, staring at him defiantly, feeling his rushed breath on her face.
"You, Severus Snape, aren't a pure-blood at all!" she exclaimed. "You're a half-blood!"
He didn't say a word.
She scoffed and smiled nastily, shaking her head. "You are quite possibly the biggest hypocrite to ever walk the planet!"
His fists clenched, face impassive, and he looked away again. "And what makes you say that?" Severus asked calmly, or perhaps with suppressed rage.
"Acting like you're so much better and more worthy than the rest of us and, oh, I don't know, remember a little incident in which you called me a Mudblood?" Lily cried. "You're nothing but a liar, Snape!"
"I never once said I was pure-blood, did I?" Severus snapped quietly.
"Of course you have!" Lily yelled in quick response.
"Recall one time, Evans. One time," he urged, with a small smirk on his semi-chapped, wind-burned lips.
She racked her brain for events in which she must have been told, or overheard, or given some sort of information about Snape's blood. There must have been a time!
"I'm waiting, Evans," Severus said.
Lily blushed again. "B-but…you…you made people think—"
"People think what they want to think, Evans," Severus said sagely.
He had stumped her. He was right. She didn't remember once being told that Snape was pure-blood. But he was a Slytherin! It was a given, wasn't it? Slytherin house, like Salazar Slytherin himself, was very selective as to who would be placed into their "elite" dwelling; where one was from was possibly even more important! Did Severus just crack the idea passed down for centuries, or were there more like him within the dark hollows of the Slytherin dungeons?
"And don't even bother asking me how I was placed into Slytherin," Severus warned, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"I—I wasn't," Lily lied. "But…do others know? Like, your dorm mates, or—"
Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't be so thick. Of course they know. The lot of them are simply enthralled by family trees and tapestries and lineage and certainly know Snape is not a familiar surname within the Wizarding community. But, Evans, this is certainly not the time to discuss my heredity or anything of similar consequence so if you'd be so kind as to answer my question?"
"Well—"
"What are you doing here, Evans?" Severus said with a sudden calmness that only prepared her for a hard blow.
There was no point in lying. She did want things figured out as well.
"My…my mum knew your mum…Eileen," Lily said.
Severus' eyes narrowed with every syllable that spilled and sputtered out of the redhead's mouth.
"Strange, yeah?" Lily chuckled lightly. "Odd coincidence."
Severus shook his head. "Impossible. Surely she would have recognized you, or your name, or—"
"Yes, I'd imagine so as well. But who knows?" Lily huffed impatiently. A mixture of trying to be civil with Severus in a freezing wind chill was proving to be ridiculously difficult. "I had no idea it was your mum until…well, until I saw you here. I mean, there are plenty of Eileens in England."
Though Severus' semi-permanent scowl was still present across his alabaster face, his brows softened, as well as the snarl on his lips.
Lily suddenly felt horrible. Just minutes ago she was yelling at him and seemed to completely forget the fact that the boy had just witnessed the funeral his mother; his own flesh and blood. Severus Snape may have been a nasty piece of work, but Lily felt the introverted boy at least had a heart and feelings (contrary to popular—especially Marauder—belief).
"I'm sorry," Lily whispered. "I'm sorry for yelling. It must be hard…and…I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologising? You didn't kill my mother, did you?" Severus murmured.
"I was just being—"
"Well don't, damn it," Severus cut her off in a huff. "Whatever you're trying to do, just stop. I never want your pity, so why should this situation be any different?"
"Then what can I do or say to console you?" Lily asked, her eyes widening and looking at him desperately.
He looked away from her again but she reached out and shook his bony shoulder towards her and his head came along with it.
"Not saying a single word would be a pleasing start," Severus suggested. "Then leaving and going back to wherever you came from would be a great conclusion."
Lily looked back towards the dreary crematorium and noticed small groups of people filing out with their coats pulled tightly against their bodies.
No, she wasn't ready to leave yet.
"I didn't know you lived near Lancashire," Lily said conversationally.
"Because I don't speak in that awful accent?" Severus sniffed.
"Well, I don't believe it's horrid. It is sort of…"
"Awful—"
"—Charming."
Severus scoffed. "Well, I don't have that accent now, thank Merlin."
"What about as a child?" Lily asked promptly, glad that he was being civil.
"Slight, just slight," Severus sighed impatiently.
"What changed that?" Lily wondered.
"I followed my mother's pattern of speech," Severus admitted with hesitation. "Why are you concerned by this?"
"I'm not concerned," Lily denied. "Merely curious."
"You're always curious about something, Evans. Most of which involves events and aspects of things that most sane people hardly want to recall," Severus explained. "Haven't you heard of the phrase 'Curiosity killed the cat'?"
"I haven't had many good experiences with cats…" Lily thought.
"That's hardly the point!" Severus snapped.
"Oh, I know. I'm just kidding," Lily sighed. "Now that I'm paying attention, I sort of hear it when you yell and aren't talking in that tight voice of yours."
"Great," Severus replied
"You're such an arse." Lily rolled her eyes.
Mid roll, Lily had an idea. A fantastic idea, actually! Well, as fantastic as any plan involving Severus Snape could be. She was going to help improve Severus' holiday the best she could. It was the least she could do. "I hope this isn't too inappropriate and you may not feel comfortable, but…I had an idea," Lily said, biting her bottom lip and looking to the floor.
"Oh, Merlin. Well, spit it out before spring," Severus said, pulling his coat tighter to his body, squinting at her slightly as the wind burned his eyes.
"Tomorrow is New Year's Eve," Lily started quickly, glancing up at him again. "And I was wondering if you want to…I don't know…come round?"
Severus scoffed, prompting Lily to continue before he said anything malicious.
"Listen, you'll be my guest and I'm sure my family would be fine with it. Maybe in the evening, for dinner?"
Severus peered at her, his brows furrowed and his hands deep in the coat's pockets, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Why?" he asked after several seconds. She certainly wasn't anticipating that response.
"Why?" Lily repeated.
"Yes. Why would you invite me over for dinner at your, surely, lovely home on New Year's Eve, Evans?" Severus asked slowly.
"You never like to make things easy, do you, Snape?" Lily noticed with a frown.
"It's a simple question, really," Severus said and kicked a nearby rock away with his boot. "Why should I waste some of my valuable time at your place when I could be anywhere else, certainly doing something more worth my while?"
She thought about his question quickly. What should she answer with? He should come for dinner because she pitied him? Because she felt it was the right thing to do for the sad boy? Because it could quite possibly end up disastrous and she'd have a story to tell that would surely amuse Marlene?
"Well, my mum's a hell of a cook," Lily offered with a shrug and sigh.
There was a pause and if she didn't know any better she could have sworn his lips twitched into a smile for a brief second; but just as quickly he bent his neck down and his shoulder-length hair covered a majority of his face and he looked more hunchbacked than usual. She knew it. He was going to say no. And then he would do that glary thing he always did and scoff and—
"Fine."
Lily found herself releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding in.
"I suppose it would be all right. But only because I haven't had a decent meal in days," Severus said tightly and glanced towards the direction of the next wave of mourners packing up into cars and leaving.
"Great," Lily said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. "I suppose it would be best if you floo'd over since we can't Apparate or anything."
She then opened her black purse and shuffled through it until she found a pen. "I haven't got any scratch paper to give you my address on. Will a hand work?"
Severus sighed and reluctantly presented a left hand to her from his warm pocket. She hesitantly grabbed his palm and felt his fingers twitch slightly from her warm touch against his cold skin. It was then that she began to take notice his hand; a couple healed cuts left faint marks around the tips of his fingers, most likely from slips with the knife; she had a few herself. His thumb had a purple stain that would go away over time from handling a particularly messy root for prolonged amounts of time and his palm showed thin, soft lines; unlike Lily's, which were more pronounced.
"Get on with it, will you?" Severus snapped impatiently, his cheeks a slight pink colour; from the chill, Lily assumed.
"Yes, right," she said, and with that she divulged her address in blue ink messily onto his hand, apologising for pressing too hard when he winced slightly and blowing lightly after she was finished to make sure the message wouldn't smudge right away. She didn't notice him blush or that he forgot to breathe. "There, all set."
Severus swiftly put his hand back into his pocket and Lily continued softly, "I'd best find my mum and get going. I'll see you tomorrow, though."
"Let's get one last thing straight, Evans," he said firmly as she turned around. "I'm foolishly trusting you to keep this meeting between those lips of yours and never leave them. This entire event has been astonishing happenstance and I don't wish to have anything that you've discovered known to the general population at Hogwarts. You know how fast fact or fiction goes around that place. Keeping the studying arrangement under wraps is one thing, but an actual get-together is another. No one will know about this, do I make myself clear?"
She turned her head around. Her eyes bored straight into his, and unblinkingly she said, "Crystal."
He tore his eyes away from hers for a few seconds until she cleared her throat once more. "Oh, and Snape," Lily said as she was a few feet away from him. His body stiffened. "I really am…very sorry for what happened to your mum. My mum told me on the train that Eileen was truly a unique individual, way back in the day. And she seemed like a very nice woman in my eyes, too. I'm really sad that she passed."
She finished speaking, turned her back to him, and began to walk towards the old crematorium as the wind gently lifted and tangled her hair; leaving the motherless boy by the sad-looking tree; alone again.
XXX
He pulled his frozen hand out of his warm pocket and took a decent look at the address given to him in the same girly handwriting as the letter he had received from her just a week ago.
28 Victoria Lane
Hampstead, London
So she was a Londoner; a city girl. He clenched his hand once more, staring at his closed fist in horror.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
A/N 2: I'm sorry this chapter was so short compared to my others but Chapter 18 will hopefully make up for it (overly perhaps because it's probably going to be ridiculously long). Please review if you'd like (fic authors love them).