Wrong Kind of Hero

Chapter 5: Wither and Bloom

"So tell me, what's with the stupid nicknames?" Lily demanded as she cornered Remus, hands on hips. "James is Prongs- so he's named after a deer, for some reason. Peter's Wormtail, so he's a rodent of some sort. Sirius is Padfoot, and aside from the obvious connection to his name, he's some kind of dog. And you're Moony… I know someone who has a theory on that, actually, but it's sort of hard to believe." She was saying it flippantly, but he grasped her by the forearm and looked at her, deadly serious.

"You can never tell anyone about this, Lily." Her eyes widened. "You have to promise to keep our secret."

"You mean you're really a werewolf?" Lupin hesitated, and then nodded. Sev was right. I should have believed him.

"I wanted to tell you, but the Headmaster convinced me that the fewer people knew about my condition, the better. Not everyone accepts weres as human."

"Oh, but I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Lily exclaimed sympathetically, then winced at how trite and stupid that sounded.

"No. I was bitten when I was a very small child. James and Peter and Sirius guessed, and now they help me through my transformations. I'm dangerous around humans, but other animals keeping me company keeps me saner, anchors me to myself."

"So that would make the others…"

"Animagi. They're not registered. That's why you can't tell anybody."

"Of course I won't," she said, already thinking guiltily of Sev. This would be the first thing she'd ever kept from him. She wondered if he kept secrets from her, too. Lily guessed it would be only fair, but it still made her sad. This was important, though. A lot of people could get in a lot of trouble if she let anything slip. Sev would think it was his duty to announce it to the school, because he didn't understand that Remus was a bloody pacifist, for crying out loud.

"Of course I'll keep your secret," she said again. "You know you can trust me."

"I know. If I can trust you with my first-edition hardback books, I can certainly trust you with the truth about my condition." Lily smiled.

She told Severus about James's pursuit of her in a fit of giggles and consternation as they walked alongside the lake.

"He just doesn't seem to understand 'not in a million years'. Dear me, Sev. Am I speaking Parseltongue?"

"I could hex him," he suggested brightly.

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm also a brilliant Beater," he said, clearly warming to the idea. "The next time our Houses play each other, I could hit him with a Bludger before he can blink. Knock some sense into him."

"Would you?" She looked up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Not too hard, mind, just enough to get the message across."

"Trust me, it would be my pleasure."

"Thank you, Sev, you're my hero." She flung her arms around him- she was doing a lot of that to people lately, and had known it was only a matter of time until she tried it out on her best friend as well. He hardly knew what to do with his own hands. His body locked up again, going stiff and rigid as hers relaxed into him. He tentatively patted her on the back, feeling supremely awkward. He had not had experience with hugging since he was a small child. When she squeezed him tighter, showing no signs of letting go, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, grimacing, and allowed her to put her head on his shoulder.

"I saw that," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "It wouldn't be so awful if you'd just relax. You're stiff as a board, Sev. It's like you've never been hugged before."

"Not since I was nine," he said quietly, and her head jerked up.

"You're joking." She looked closely at him, still holding him. "You're not joking." He shook his head once. "Oh." She stroked a hand feather-light down his spine, and one by one his muscles unclenched as he matched her deep breaths in and out. They stood there for a while, just holding each other, long past any pretence of comfort or relief or gratitude. She felt warm and her hair smelled like strawberries. Snape felt her knees start to buckle and he caught her, gently lowering both of them to the soft grass.

"Feeling alright, there, Lily?" She leaned back and curled herself into him, head on his chest, one arm draped over him, closing her eyes. He swallowed, his heart pounding. She must not realize what she was doing, or to whom she was doing it. Well, if he died of a heart attack, at least he'd die happy.

"Fine, thanks. I think I'm just tired. Studying for exams, I'm sure. Pulled one too many all-nighters, and it's not exactly as if my common room is a quiet and restful place to study." She pulled a face. "With those four loons setting off games of exploding snap and sneaking up on people in that ruddy invisibility cloak of theirs. I'm just gonna-" she yawned expansively, "-relax for a bit. Friends?"

"Best friends." Then she fell asleep on him. Trapped beneath her, his leg starting to go numb, he had no choice but to lay back and listen to her steady breathing, awake and damned to yearn for her without hope and without surcease for pain. The ache in his heart was comprised of all those feelings which he denied himself except when he was with her: exquisite agony and desire and happiness and need. Because it was true, he needed her, and he feared her because he needed her and dared not tell her. She was a beautiful wildflower he dared not pick, for he did not want to wither her, as she surely would in his hands. As all things did in his hands. Yet he could not release the dream of having her, foolish as it was. He had never been offered this trust before, this concern for his welfare, this companionship; he was not among those favored by fortune who could casually brush away such devotion and care because they are offered it so often by so many. Rather, he clasped anything she offered him greedily to his chest and lashed out, snarling, when anyone threatened to take her from him, be they Slytherin prefects or Potter and his cronies.

She slept on, unaware.

Lily was in a dream. She was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It had been transformed into a stunning ballroom. Everywhere masked dancers twirled, the men dressed as princes and the women in stunning gowns. Lily looked down at herself. She was wearing an emerald green number, presumably to set off her eyes. A masked figure swept her away and they started dancing. She tried to change the color of her dress - it was supposed to be her dream, after all- or wake herself up. She could do neither. It appeared someone had sent her this dream and she was trapped in it until it ended.

"Leaving so soon?" asked her partner. "Stay awhile. Dance with me. You look lovely tonight."

"I want to see your face," she said, and he said it was impossible. She must not know his identity. The lights dimmed, then snuffed out altogether. The music faded away.

"But if you wish, now that you cannot see me, you may take off my mask." She did wish, very much. It was most curious that he would not reveal himself. She took off the mask and started to trace the outlines of his face with her hands, seeking clues to his identity. She hoped— but of course, that would be silly, Sev would never be this bold— and yet, could it be?

"Come to the Yule Ball with me." Her suitor kissed her, and she felt herself leaning into his arms, into his warm embrace, still wondering who he could be, hoping she was kissing who she thought she was. The word 'yes' was on her lips, and then he whispered something in her ear:

"You're rather good at this, Evans." The dream bubble popped. She jerked awake, gasping for breath. What a nightmare!

"AUGH!"

"Lily, what's wrong?" Severus, wonderful Severus's voice was filled with concern for her. That's right. She'd fallen asleep on him. Despite being bony and (she thought privately) underfed, he'd made a surprisingly comfortable pillow.

"Potter again. I'll kill him for this, he's just too cruel." She allowed herself to soak up the sensation of his arm holding her close, his steady heartbeat matching her breathing, his body solid and warm and smelling of boy. Sev had let her be this close to him and he hadn't protested once. She supposed he'd had no choice, since she'd fallen asleep before he could try to move her off him, but still. My Sev. Mine, she thought possessively, hugging him close.

"Urk… Lily?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't breathe." Oops. Maybe a little too possessive.

Using her love for Severus against her was a low, dirty trick, perhaps the worst one Potter had ever played on her. Oh, right. Potter. She had to go kill Potter. She stomped away, brandishing her wand, out for blood.

"Where is he, Peter?"

"I- I don't know," the small pudgy boy stammered, choked as he was since she'd lifted him up by the collar of his robe.

"Tell me, or I'll lay a Furnunculus on you on top of a jelly-legs curse and it won't be pretty."

"The others hid him away somewhere. They thought you might come looking for him and they wouldn't tell me. They knew I might cave under pressure. I really don't know, Lily! Please put me down." She growled under her breath, but released Peter, muttering curses against all Marauders.

She and Severus were walking together the next day, and he'd just brought up the topic of the Yule Ball.

"Do you have a date yet?"

"No," she admitted, sighing.

"Me neither. No big shock there." He looked away from her, staring fixedly at a portrait of Cedric Weathermufflington the Pretentious. "Maybe we could go together," he said in a strangled voice. "In solidarity. You know, since neither of us have dates." Lily's smile lit up the corridor, and he couldn't help catching a reflection of it in one of the silver vases they passed as they walked.

"That would be-"

Lo and behold, James Potter popped up seemingly out of nowhere, blocking her path.

"So I take it we'll be going to the Yule Ball together, Evans?"

"Not on your life."

"I don't know about that, you seemed to enjoy my attentions well enough in your dream. You were rather enthusiastic about kissing me back, as I recall." Snape looked from an embarrassed Lily to a smirking James and back again.

"Oh," he said, and started to walk away from the two bickering Gryffindors, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I thought you were someone else," Lily spat at James, then raced after her friend.

"Sev, wait!"

"You're going to the Yule Ball with Potter?" He asked quietly, not looking at her.

"No, I'm not! He sent me this dream I couldn't get out of and while I was trapped, he tricked me. He kissed me, but I couldn't see his face."

"He said you enjoyed it. Did you?"

"Yes, but I enjoyed it because I thought he was-" Snape waited patiently for her to finish the rest of her sentence.

"You, dammit. I thought he was you!" Snape looked up at that, dark eyes wide in disbelief, mouth hanging open in an 'o' of shock. Lily's face was bright pink, but she looked him squarely in the face. "So I'd like to go to the Yule Ball with you, if the offer's still open." Snape swallowed.

"Not as friends?"

"Well, not unless that's what you'd prefer, no."

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

"I say this in all love: shut up and listen. I never dreamed that you would return my… my feelings toward you." She reached out and intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. "I can say in all honesty that there is nothing in this world I would rather do than take you to the Yule Ball as both my best friend and my date."

"Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to blackmail you into taking me." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "You know this will cause all kinds of trouble. James will try to hex you again."

"To hell with him." Snape was just courageous enough this once to initiate the hug himself. Neither of them were willing to do anything more about their feelings for each other at the moment, but hugging was proving to be quite enough. Lily returned his embrace, knowing this was right where she was meant to be, and she was happy.

They went to the Yule Ball together, and they were harassed and jeered both by her friends and his.

"Stay away from that greasy git, Evans, or it'll be the worse for him," was the message the Marauders sent her in person, and she slapped James in the face and told off the other Marauders in no uncertain terms that they should know better.

"Stay away from wizards who are better than you," was the message she received from the other Slytherins in the form of a Dark Mark burnt into her bed.

"Stay away from girls too pretty for you," was the message the Marauders sent Snape by way of pummeling before the dance.

"Stay away from Mudbloods, Severus, what do you think you're doing, disgracing the house like that?" was the message from his friends in Slytherin house.

But all he could think about was her. All he could care about was her, and the fact that she was going with him- not Potter- to the Yule ball, and his juice must have been spiked with Felix Felicius because he was the luckiest man alive. In the history of ever.

They were beautiful together, contrasting perfectly- fiery reds and somber blacks speckled with stars swirling around the dance floor, lost in each other's eyes.

"You have five smiles," he said by way of conversation, feeling terrified and stupid and brave all at once as they danced. Now or never, he told himself, even though really there was no urgency. "You have a smile that's more of a grimace, accompanied by an eye-roll. Smile #2 is a quirky genuinely-amused smile. Smile #3 is a polite 'you're an idiot and I'm not really listening' smile for adults. Smile #4 is a soft faraway smile for when you're thinking about something happy."

"And Smile #5?" Just say it, he told himself, what's the worst that can happen?

"Smile #5 is like the sun coming out. It lights up your whole face, and it's ear-to-ear. And you do it when…" He took a deep breath and plunged off the edge of the world. "When you're looking at me. When I've done something wonderful."

"Like right now." They didn't say anything for a long time, just stood there smiling at each other like idiots, arms around each other. "Everyone's staring at us," Snape noted with his peripheral vision.

"Well, let's give them something to stare at," Lily whispered in his ear, and kissed his cheek. "That was to give you courage." She kissed his other cheek. "That was for luck." She wanted this. She'd chosen him. He no longer had any doubts.

"And this," he said, moving closer to her lips with his— they were less than an inch away now, "is for me." He kissed her softly on the lips. When he pulled back, she stared into his eyes with her piercing green ones and said,

"That was nice. Let's do that again sometime."