Wrong Kind of Hero
Chapter four: Howling at the Moon
Severus pinned her in the Forbidden section of the book stacks and Lily didn't know what to do about it. Her book thudded to the floor unnoticed. She'd just been minding her own business, researching her latest assignment in Potions and Severus had snuck up on her.
James Potter had tried the same thing on her earlier and she'd kneed him solidly in the groin and run off. He'd asked her out the next day, saying he liked a girl with spirit. It didn't help matters that he was still walking funny. She'd said no, of course, and she'd threatened to try it again, but he told her he'd come prepared- he was wearing a cup. He was persistent, that Potter. What kind of sick joke did he think he was playing anyway? And calling her Evans. Ugh.
But back to her present predicament. Severus was pinning her against the bookshelves, clearly trying to get her attention, and here she was worrying about Potter. Maybe she should knee him in the groin, too? No, upon reflection, she didn't want to hurt Sev. She wanted to lean into his touch and go all googly-eyed at his intense gaze.
"You know, your eyes aren't actually black," she said, highly interested in her discovery. "I can distinguish your pupils from here. They're really just incredibly dark brown, but no one's ever got close enough to notice the difference."
"Lily, you have to listen to me. There'll be time to give running commentary on my eyes later. I know Lupin's secret! He's a werewolf." Bother. Also bugger and bollocks. Lily was feeling alliterative today. What a load of bosh, she wanted to exclaim, but she had her own doubts. Ever since that class on identifying werewolves and vampires in DADA.
"Sev, that's a bit extreme, don't you think?"
"He disappears every month around the full moon, and he always looks sickly and pale. No one goes near the Shrieking Shack around then because of the howling. And his bloody friends disappear with him, and they always look exhausted the next day." His nickname is Moony, Lily thought, bothered by the idea. Not that Remus might be a werewolf, but that he'd keep secrets from her— that he didn't trust her.
"But Remus is sweet! He'd never hurt a soul." Her powers of argument and logic were being wildly distorted by Snape's proximity. Her hip was sort of pressing up against his thigh, and there were lots of jutting angles and sinews to him up close that she'd never been aware of before. He was at least half a head taller than her, and her eyes were level with this pulse pounding in his long neck. He had a prominent Adam's apple from this perspective, and Lily's heart was racing. It was a revelation. He smelled delicious and musky, and her eyelids were fluttering closed, in anticipation of what, she wasn't sure. He was trying to tell her one of her friends was a menace to society, not confess his undying love for her.
"Maybe not on purpose, Lily," he was saying, "but he can't control what he does when he's a werewolf. Don't you remember what his Boggart was in second year? It went by fast, but before he turned it into a beach ball it was a glowing orb. It was the moon. I'm sure of it."
"So? So what if he is a werewolf. He hasn't attacked anybody."
"No? He almost killed me. One of Potter's brighter ideas, telling me about that knot in the Whomping Willow."
"What are you talking about?" Ooh. He had dark stubble. She wondered what it would feel like to rub her cheek against it.
"Just trust me, Potter and his friends are no good. For you, me or anyone else. They keep dangerous secrets. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"Thanks for your concern, Sev. I'll keep that in mind." Just once touch. Just rub her hand against the stubble and satisfy her curiosity. Oh. Oh, wow. The texture was amazing. She heard a little cooing "oooh" noise, and only belatedly realized it was coming from her.
"Lily, I'm quite aware I haven't shaven yet today. Or was there something else you were calling to my attention with this display?" Oops. She was still doing it. But there was his hair, right there and oh so very touchable, and she had such a crush on guys with long hair, and— no. She pried her hand off him with her other hand, then realized how awkward that looked, so she waved her touched-the-stubble arm with the hand holding it.
"Haha… I'm obviously not feeling well, so I'll just, um,"
Snape took a step backward, frowning, and that was all the space Lily needed to make her escape. Her fingers reached for his stubbled cheek one last time and she smacked herself on the hand, muttering "bad fingers. No cookie," as she sidled away. And immediately ran into James in the next book stack over, holding out his arms to embrace her when she bumped into him.
"Finally come to our senses and given up on Snivellus, have we?"
"Sod off, Potter," she said, shoving him away.
He was not a Gryffindor. He was not brave. He was cunning. That was the whole point. Potter was brave. Stupid, but brave. He went after what he wanted, while Snape— well, sat in the shadows waiting to be noticed but not doing anything about it, either. His skin still tingled from the places they'd touched and he sighed, wondering if his luck would ever change.
Mulciber and Avery noticed him, though. Mulciber recommended to Lucius that Snape be introduced to their leader. The rumors had started, of a Dark Lord rising, a very powerful dark wizard who was building an army to raise against Mudbloods.
"Our Lord sympathizes with your unfortunate situation, Severus," Avery had said. "He offers a way out and a way up, if you seek recognition of your talents without the blot of your Muggle father getting in your way. But you must prove to us where your loyalties truly lie." He hadn't said it, but Snape heard the underlying message clearly enough. Lucius had warned him about it in first year. This friendship of yours with the Mudblood girl: It must cease.
"Sod off, Mulciber," he'd wanted to say, and he got as far as "sod" before the offer tempted him. To get rid of his abusive father for good- to carve out a better life for his mother and himself, to rid himself of his embarrassment and shame at having an alcoholic Muggle for a father…
"What does he want me to do?"
"Just come to one of our meetings and see what you think," Lucius's insidious voice had whispered, luring him with promises of power and recognition, of being known for his genius and appreciated. And yet, there was Lily, and he could never abandon her, no matter what they said. His loyalties were torn.
"Look, I understand wanting to fit in, Sev, really I do. But not like this. You surely don't believe that Muggleborns are— are mud, do you? That we're not good enough for you? That I'm not good enough?"
"No, no, of course not," he reassured her hastily.
"I don't like your Slytherin friends, Sev, and I hate that derogatory word. And I hate that you're spending time with those Death-Eater sympathizers."
"Yeah, well, I'm not too keen on the fearsome four either, but they seem good enough for you. Even creepy Lupin and poncy Potter. He fancies you, you know."
"I hate him. You know I do. He's an arrogant toerag. I don't need you to tell me that." Snape's spirits lifted. She couldn't be that mad at him if she was willing to insult Potter, then. There was still a chance. He practically floated down the courtyard as they walked together, almost touching, trading insults about Potter.
"I just don't want you to become like them, that's all. They're soulless, and it scares me to death to think of you becoming some bitter vindictive husk."
"That won't happen. I have you to hit me upside the head with a frying pan if I exhibit any antisocial tendencies- well, more than I've got already," he amended as she started to conjure something metallic with a handle.
"Alright then." So that was that.
In the Gryffindor Common Room, deserted except for five students, Remus was content to carry on a conversation with Lily from his comfortable chair by the fire. An incorrigible Sirius was sitting with his arms around his lover looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to be Lupin's lapdog. He and Remus made an adorable couple, though neither of them dared admit it around anyone but James or her. Remus could tame the savage beast in Sirius with just a look and a murmured, "perhaps I'll sleep alone tonight," and instantly Padfoot was on his best behavior. It sent her into fits of laughter when anyone referred to Sirius as a handsome devil and a ladies' man, when she knew he was secretly in love with the studious Lupin. James, meanwhile, had booted a stray second-year out of his seat to be near his friends and pretend to study.
"What fresh hell is this," Lily muttered as James approached her with what looked like a book of Muggle poetry. Remus and Lily both groaned together as they witnessed James dog-ear a page in the poetry book and then crack the spine as he cleared his throat to read. Remus looked pained and Lily covered her face in her hands.
"If that had been Sirius, I would have broken up with him," Remus admitted.
"That was pretty painful."
"What are you two whingeing on about? It's just a book. And I haven't even started reading yet."
"Just a book?" Lily said, a strain in her voice. She and Remus shared a significant look.
"He'll never understand," Remus said, throwing up his hands in despair. "He is one of the unwashed masses and alas, sadly not a bibliophile." Lily shook her head at James.
"I think I might cry." James looked alarmed and slightly sick.
"No, no Evans, please don't cry! Anything but that! I'll do a Reparo on the book, okay?"
"I suppose that will have to do," she said, sighing. "Now, Remus, what were you saying about Pride and Prejudice?" Sirius whispered something in his ear; Remus blushed and swatted him on the arm.
"Bad dog! Behave!"
"Ahem!" James said loudly. "Evans, listen up. This is about you. 'She walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies-'"
"Something about Elizabeth Bennett's prejudices being less founded in truth than Darcy's, which were indeed mostly accurate, if a bit cold-hearted?" Remus hazarded, squeaking in protest as Sirius started to tickle him. Lily smiled fondly at them.
"'And all that's best of dark and bright, meets in her aspect and her eyes-'" James continued belligerently, despite no one paying attention to him.
"Well, at least he didn't pick The Flea," Peter murmured from his perch by the fireplace. Remus and Lily grinned at each other, getting the joke. Sirius frowned and looked askance at James, who was frantically searching in his book for the poem in question.
"Here it is, Padfoot. It's-" he scanned it quickly, "about this bloke who wants his girl to shag him, so he's telling her that this flea that bit them has mingled them together, so what's the big deal about sex, and she' s all in a snit, so she kills it-" He looked more and more bewildered as he read.
"Muggles sure do use bizarre imagery for love. A flea." Sirius snorted. "Certainly not what I'd pick."
"I think that's the point," Remus said indulgently. "It's meant to be funny."
"Oh. Is it?"
"So what do you say, Evans? Impressed by my talent at poetry?"
"You didn't write that, James, Lord Byron did."
"Yes, but I read it very charmingly, don't you think? I'd say an effort like that deserves a date."
"How many smiles?"
"Why are you so hung up on that, Evans?"
"Like Sev said, you'll be worthy of dating me when you know how many and what they all mean. Then I'll know that you've taken the time to study what makes me happy and get to know me, not just persist in asking me out because you have some sick kind of grudge against me."
"I do not have a grudge-"
"Well, then you must really like rejection."
"Sometimes I wonder," James said.
"Why don't you go ask out some girl who actually likes you, who wants to date you? There are plenty, trust me. They all tell me I'm crazy for saying no to you."
"Listen to them, then!"
"Why do you keep bothering?"
"'Because I like you, Evans' isn't enough?"
"You don't like me, James. You don't even know me, and the bits of me you do know about you don't like. Like my friends, who you keep playing pranks on. The idea of going out with a pretty girl who'd look good on your arm appeals to you. You keep pursuing me because you like the thrill of the chase, the challenge of gaining something impossible. Once I said yes to you, you'd lose all interest in me anyway."
"So you're doing me a favor by rejecting me to keep my interest?"
"I never said I wanted to keep your interest."
"Well, if your theory is right, then go out with me and I'll stop bothering you because I'll lose interest. And what if you're wrong? Have you ever thought about that, Evans? That maybe I won't get bored with you? You have to give me a chance first." Lily was grasping at straws here. She'd almost run out of cutting remarks. Then she thought of something true.
"Maybe I like someone else, James."
"That's a flimsy excuse. I haven't seen you go out with any boy in all our time at Hogwarts. The only guy you hang around with except us is Snivellus, and-" Lily glared at him.
"Don't call him that." James stared hard at her.
"Oh, you can't be serious!"
"She's not. I'm Sirius." Remus and Peter groaned simultaneously.
"What? Someone had to say it, might as well be me."
"You are not in love with that… that… greasy hideous git," James spluttered.
"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult my friends," Lily said, furious tears blinding her. "Goodnight Peter, Remus, Sirius."
"Wait, Evans! Just listen! You've got four smiles! Or was it three? Anyway, I've been counting. I don't know what they all mean yet, but I'll figure it out, I swear-" It was too late. She was gone.
Thank Merlin for these lovely two-way mirrors, Lily thought for the tenth time as she contacted Severus.
"Hey. I was just thinking about you," he said. The mirror showed him sitting at his desk. She was cross-legged on her bed, rather bored. "What's going on?"
"James Potter is going on. He seems to think Muggle poetry and flowers shooting out the end of his wand are the way to win me over." Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow.
"Are you implying that's not the way into your affections?"
"Ha ha," she said. "You more than anyone should know the way to my heart." Snape lowered the first eyebrow and raised the other one. "Truth, Sev. I don't need all the frilly trappings of romance. I just want—" she broke off in frustration, sighing.
"You just want?" He prompted.
"Oh, never mind. You know he's calling himself 'Prongs' now?" In the background, a boy's voice could be heard yelling,
"Merlin's fuzzy knickers, James, get away from that-" There was a loud crash and a bang.
"Too late. I've gotta go, Sev. I think Potter might have just hexed himself and I won't miss the opportunity to get pictures." The image of Lily in the mirror faded, and Snape was left alone with his thoughts. They were, for a change, quite pleasant.