Lily was so preoccupied thinking about Marrietta's comment that evening. She found that she couldn't go to the Great Hall for lunch – he would be there, and she was feeling so confused. With the prospect of him with another girl gone, she realized that the whole time, those few hours she had thought he hadn't liked her, she had felt. . .sadness wasn't the proper word, and neither was jealousy. . .perhaps it had been loss. A loss, an emptiness, that had caused a sudden void within her; where would she be without James? He defined her; she had denied him, him, James Potter, Pureblooded wizard who captured the hearts of half the girls at Hogwarts. And he, he had caused her to lose the one person who knew both her identities. . .
Her frantic pacing was accelerating, and she didn't realize that she wasn't looking where she was going until she collided with a tall black blur.
The collision was spectacular; she went flying backwards, as did he. From her vantage point on the ground, she saw it was the person she had been second-most dreading to see. That very realization made her heart accelerate; would she really dread to see James the most? Was that dread that made her pulse quicken and breath come short?
However, her thoughts on James would have to wait. The black form she had ran into had drawn his wand on contact, but upon seeing the flaming red hair of the girl in front of him, he hastily pocketed it.
"Here." He shoved a hand forward to help her up.
"I can get up on my own, thanks," she snapped, his voice bringing to the surface of her mind all the anger. Of all the fake friends she thought she had acquired, of all the people are Hogwarts to call her a "Mudblood", Severus Snape was the last person she had suspected would turn on her. And he had.
She fought to stand up on her own. Once on her feet, Lily realized that he still hadn't moved.
"Lily," he began.
"Save it for someone who cares," she snapped. He stared at her, his expression smooth and emotionless, not the expression of the boy she had known at age eleven. The following silence almost made her feel regret for her harsh tone. She couldn't tell if the anger she was feeling was because it had been him who had run into her, him, the one who had turned on her, or if it hadn't been someone else. Despite her tone, he still stood there, staring at her, his black eyes uncomfortably sharp. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her hair, and demanded, as sharply as she could manage, "What?" He sighed.
"Where were you headed?" he asked, his tone as empty of emotion as his face. When had he become so detached?
"The Great Hall," Lily replied icily, crossing her arms.
"Going to see James?" He sneered the Gryffindor's name. Lily straightened.
"Why would you say that?"
"He's always talking about you." The hatred was more pronounced in his voice as his face twisted in revulsion. Lily didn't know what possessed her, but she felt her face soften.
"Was he. . .talking about me. . .today?" she asked slowly, her voice inquisitive. Snape's eyes, which had been staring at the ground in an attempt to master his anger, snapped to her face.
"Why would you care?" he asked, his voice almost a snarl.
"I could ask you the same question!" Lily replied, staring at him in anger and confusion. Again the dark haired boy before her looked away, breathing hard, biting his tongue as he fought to say something else he would later regret.
"Yes," he finally replied, his voice empty again. He stared right at her, and she was horrified to see that his black eyes were empty, like dark glass. The silence that followed was magnified by the glance he gave her, his eyes looking dark and dead. She wanted to say something, something that would make him look alive again, but too fresh was the memory of his betrayal, and she felt that all feelings of pity she felt were too freshly mingled with feelings of anger.
"What did he say?" asked Lily, angrily clenching her jaw. There was sharp intake of breath. Lily whirled around, but Snape was quicker. He had seen the hazel eyes peering out from behind the gargoyle. A stunning spell shot from his quickly-drawn wand towards the stone statue, causing a large explosion. A large chunk of stone went flying from it, right towards the girl in front of the caster.
Lily didn't react fast enough. For seven years she had been a witch, casting spells, making potions, and seven years of training urged her to draw her wand and protect herself. But for ten years she had just been a girl, a girl who had scraped her knees falling off her bike and broken her arm falling out of a tree. Her older instincts won, but the hands she moved to cover her face didn't help much.
For a moment, the two boys stood, staring at each other, their wands raised. James had straightened from his crouch behind the gargoyle, releasing the water balloon filled with Phyllis's Permanent Purple People Paint and drawn his wand in a single fluid motion. However, after a moment, the two of them realized that Lily had fallen over, and her hands had flown to her face. Snape was the first to see her, and at the moment his eyes drifted from his opponent, James glanced also. When James quickly ran those three feet to kneel at her side, Snape stood there, realizing what he had done. For a second time, he had injured the girl he loved. He wouldn't allow himself to injure her a third time. James didn't even look up to see him run away, his long black cape billowing behind him like a storm cloud.
"Lily?" he murmured. It was the first time he had said her name aloud in too many years. Her green eyes flutter, and after a moment, she struggled to sit up.
"What happened?" she asked slowly, finding, to her shock, that a shallow cut marred her temple and was bleeding slowly. James didn't respond. After sighing, he muttered, "I'd better get you to the nurse." Carefully, he lifted her up, cradling her in his strong arms. Her last thought was of the alluring scent of his cologne, but before she could wonder at why she was a few feet in the air, she blacked out.
–
Lily awoke in the hospital wing, the only remnant of previous day's injury a throbbing head. Glancing around the room, Lily realized that she was alone and the emptiness of the room was painful. It was not only the lack of people, but the utter blandness of the room, the white sheets and steel bedframes that reminded her of a hospital; there was no color, not even around her bed. No one had sent her flowers, no get-well cards stood half-opened and propped up on her bed stand. No one cared.
Except, a single chair stood between her bed and the next. Someone had been watching her sleep, someone who had left before – or when – she had awoken. She could only think of one person who would be cowardly enough to not face her when she was awake. That thought made her angry, and her fury turned to sadness as she turned over, away from the emptiness of the room, to silently cry about the emptiness in her life.
–
For six hours Snape sat in the hospital wing, watching Lily sleep, hating himself. Through the night he watched her slowly breathe, his face smooth and breathing even, the only sign of his anger the furious tears that twinkled, unshed, in his black eyes. Despite how many times he replayed those moments, his stupidity at using that derogatory epithet, his own foolishness at acting rashly, violently, an action that let Potter get away unscathed and left Lily lying, unconscious, in the hospital wing. No, he couldn't have Lily Evans any more. He didn't deserve her. And there was only one person who deserved her less.
–
Lily awoke in the hospital wing, the tears dried on her cheeks. The beams from the full moon drifted through the shades, making lines across her face. But the moonlight wasn't the only light.
Lily turned over to see the chair that had previously held the Slytherin who had accidentally hurt her now held the Gryffindor who had saved her. He was staring at her, his face drawn and worried, his chin resting on his knuckles. The light came from a taper with magically un-melting wax, the glow from which was as bright as any flashlight.
"Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"It's okay," Lily replied, but her voice was rusty. Whether it was from sleeping for almost two days or from her bout of crying, she wasn't sure. James's bright eyes slid over her face, looking at the quickly-healing scar to the streaks of tears on her cheeks.
"Does that hurt?" he asked quietly. Lily almost didn't recognize his voice. He looked so broken, sitting there before him.
"You blame yourself," she whispered, finally understanding. His hazel eyes returned to the ground.
"If it hurts, I can go get someone. . ." His voice trailed off as he looked away. But it was too late; Lily knew that he had heard her. His eyes were sad, the cocky grin was replaced by a glum frown. She wanted to say that it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't make herself lie to him. It had been his fault, everything had; her own emptiness in life, her loss of friends. Without James and the conflict he had caused, she could have been friends with Snape. For a moment, Lily forgot the Slytherin's obsession with things dark, and remembered only those days when he spoken to her, before she had two lives, before she had learned about Hogwarts and magic, days before when her sister was her best friend and she thought Severus could be, too.
And James and he had ruined it; now, she had no future. She didn't know what her life would become after school. Lily didn't know where she would go. All she knew was that something, something very important, was missing from her life. It was as though she was missing a piece of herself, and she couldn't find it.
Looking at the brown-haired boy before her, Lily felt pity. She felt sad that her presence had caused him to feel so ruined and lost. And in the same moment, Lily wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted to roll over and wake up in her bed, eleven again, thinking that she would go to high school and become a veterinarian and be best friends forever with her sister, Petunia.
Rolling over in her metal-framed bed in the hospital wing didn't help. The silence that followed her movement seemed heavy.
"Lily?" He sounded unsure. The girl didn't move, but he continued anyway.
"Can we start over? I mean, pretend that none of this happened? That we're just two Gryffindors who're in the same year, and that you vaguely know my name and I've barely heard of you? That all I know about you is that you can make potions, and you've only heard my name in context of Quiddich?"
Silence. A single howl was heard, making Lily shudder at the sound. James turned to glance out the window behind him.
"Can you?" asked Lily, finally sitting up and turning to him, bringing the sheets around her bare arms.
"Wouldn't it be best?" he asked, his eyes glancing at her with strange intensity.
"Maybe," she admitted. "But I'm not very good at pretending."
He glanced at her, his eye brows knitting.
"What does that mean?" His voice was stronger, but confused.
"That means, Potter, that you owe me an apology."
"What for?"
"If you hadn't tried to his Severus with that balloon that I wouldn't be in this bed right now, with my head throbbing."
"I asked you if it was hurting, and you said it wasn't."
"That's not the point," replied Lily, glaring at him in fake anger. He sighed.
"Fi-ne." He drew out the word. "I'm sorry." Lily smiled, feeling victorious.
"But," he said, grinning suddenly, "I should have you know. You owe me a favor."
"What for?" Lily demanded, tilting her head. James's grin widened and became mocking.
"Well, how do you think you got here?"
Another howl was heard outside the window, and James turned.
"I should be going," he smiled, a knowing smile, and stood, slinging his cloak over one arm.
"Wait, Potter, what do you mean–" Lily began, watching him walk away. With his back to her, at the door, he said, "Well, I carried you, don't you remember?"
He turned to catch her expression, grinned at the blush the turned her cheeks pink as she remembered, and smoothly slipped out the door, silently leaving Lily in the dark, empty room.