Wrong Kind of Hero
Chapter 14: The Last Night of the World
A.N.: Listened to the Jeff Buckley version of "Hallelujah" extensively while writing this, so if anyone's curious, it's totally the chapter theme song. Very stripped down and pure. These lyrics especially: her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you/ she tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair/ and from your lips she drew the hallelujah...
Severus Snape washed the blood off his hands slowly, watching the reddish water swirl round the drain. His personal hygiene had, perversely, improved a great deal since joining Tom Riddle (he never forgot for an instant that the Voldemort persona was concealing a half-blood boy— much like himself— with megalomaniac aspirations); not even he could pass off hair-sticky-with-blood as greasy. Snape was taking great pleasure in his role as dual agent today especially. He had ensured his role as Deatheater was most convincing, as he had been able to use one of his pet curses, Sectumsempra, quite frequently. He had not murdered anyone yet, but he had built a reputation as a cruel bastard who toyed with his victims; it was an urge to wound someone, to cause pain, which he had to get out of his system before he saw Lily tonight. And the sudden slashes of blood arced so nicely from Sectumsempra, it was almost artistic. It only wounded, but it would leave nasty scars. He had been an accessory to murder several times already before he turned himself in to Dumbledore for Lily's sake; for the sake of his deception and espionage, he must appear to remain loyal to Voldemort at all times, while secretly feeding him crucial misinformation. Dumbledore had told him he would be an essential part of the Order's campaign against Riddle and his army, and Dumbledore trusted him completely. He knew Snape was obsessed with Lily Potter, and was therefore most easy to control. But, Snape had argued cannily, he had to maintain the illusion of cruelty and bigotry, didn't he? And if he wounded people in the process, so be it. It was all 'for the greater good'. Snape smiled; this spying business suited him perfectly.
It was 10:13 p.m., and he'd given up on Lily being there. Perhaps she couldn't find his new apartment, though he'd sent her the address in a letter. Perhaps Potter hadn't taken her up on the bachelor party offer, though he always seemed to put his friends first before. Had he really made an impression on Potter after all? That would be a cold day in hell, he thought sardonically. The first knock he mistook for the rain pounding on the glass windowpanes, the second he thought he'd imagined, but by the third fevered pounding on the door, he realized he had a visitor. He was uncommonly glad he'd had the foresight to put away his small "shrine to Lily," which included the bloodstained ribbon she'd given him in seventh year, a moving photograph of them from three summers ago laughing with their arms around each other, and a tissue blotted with the imprint of her lipstick. He'd tried to burn it several times, but he'd found he couldn't part with any of the objects, so he just threw a sheet over them and shoved them in a corner of his closet where he wouldn't have to look at them.
"I suppose I am to offer you my congratulations," he said stiffly when he opened his door to find her there, dripping from the rain and looking more alluring than he'd ever seen her— and completely out of reach.
"Please don't," she replied, "unless your congratulations have anything to do with warm clothes and a shot of firewhiskey to calm my nerves."
"I'm afraid I don't keep hard liquor in the house," he reminded her. His eyes darkened with remembered pain and humiliation. "My father exhibited alcoholic tendencies, as you are well aware, and I'd do well to avoid his fate." She blushed in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Sev, I didn't forget-"
"I do, however, have a glass of wine gifted to me; clearly by someone who knew me only minimally and knew my personal history even less, which I have in the cabinet, unopened. Shall I retrieve it for you?"
"Yes, thank you. I've been in such a state all day. Everyone chalked it up to my being the blushing bride, but really… oh, that's good," she said distractedly, wringing out her hair and accepting the wine. She drained the glass in one gulp. One of her hands strayed to her belly and she looked momentarily worried, perhaps regretting the alcohol and its effect on the health of the baby. She shook her head to clear it. Then she sighed heavily and said what both of them had been thinking. "It should have been you." Her gaze took him in, devoured him.
"Right," he said, nervous and completely at a loss for words. "Warm clothes. Er, if you'd like to use the shower, it's through there." He still had no idea why she had come to his house on the night of her wedding. Why did Potter allow it? Did he even know? I would not be so casual with her affections, Severus thought. I would ensure Lily's happiness with me in such a way that she would not wish to leave me, particularly on the night during which we were expected to consummate our love. Potter is a fool.
He was sitting in his armchair when he heard the water shut off from the bathroom. He had not anticipated seeing Lily clad in nothing but one of his old button-down shirts, which hung to her mid-thigh, revealing a fetching expanse of leg. Even in his most private thoughts, he had never dared imagine her like this, flushed from her shower with damp hair in tight curls around her face, wearing his clothing. He distinctly recalled giving her pants. He had also not anticipated her abruptly straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him warmly and enthusiastically on the mouth. Then again, this was Lily, and he'd known her for long enough not to question the strange ideas she got into her head at times. She placed his hand on the inside of her bare thigh, a gesture clearly meant to motivate him to action. It did just the opposite: he panicked when he abruptly remembered this was meant to be her wedding night. She should not be here, and she most certainly should not be doing this with him. He tugged on her hair and she moaned into his mouth in appreciation. He mentally kicked himself; he was not going to fall victim to her charms, not now. Severus pulled Lily's head back to get her to stop kissing him.
"Lily," he said sharply, "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but I am not amused."
"I know I'm no good at this seduction business, but amused wasn't exactly what I had in mind." She wriggled atop his lap in a most distressing manner— well, distressing for his mental state. The rest of him was quite happy to have her there.
"Stop that at once!" He exclaimed in a strangled voice, attempting to dislodge her. This just made her cotton-clad breasts bob temptingly in front of him as she planted herself more firmly in his lap. I am not Hercules, Snape thought in dismay. Why set me these impossible tasks? Let me slay the hydra instead, or bring back Cerberus from the underworld. Do not ask me to resist Lily Evans!
"I'm not James's tonight, Sev," she said, using what could only be called a bedroom voice, and Snape's brain shouted cheating! unfair tactics! as his body shot back, who cares? "I'm yours," she said, and paused for effect. "If you'll have me."
"You're married," he explained, as if she could not possibly have grasped the fact. "I no longer have the right." She shook her head at him gently, rubbing her thumb across his lower lip.
"This should have happened a long time ago, but then we were both busy and…" Her other hand slid under his shirt and brushed over a sensitive nipple. A gasp caught in his throat and he tensed more, if that was even possible. "Please, Sev? Please?"
"No, Lily," he said hoarsely for the second time, damning his own conscience to the depths of hell. "You don't know what you're doing."
"Yes, I do," she replied calmly, and kissed the side of his neck where a madly fluttering pulse point was dying for her touch. He groaned audibly, and Lily took the opportunity to note that suffering and pleasure sounded very similar. She looked him in the eyes and smiled.
"I want to spend my wedding night with the man I love." Just this once, his body told his brain. This once to remember her by. For all the lonely years ahead. She's begging you to. You're a gentleman. Don't let a lady beg. He took a breath to speak. She held up a hand.
"I know you're probably about to say no again, and I'd have to go if you refused me three times, for my dignity's sake. But please consider… you'd be sending me back to an empty bed. James won't be there. And I'd probably spend the entire time crying, which is not how I envisioned tonight..." While she was saying this, she continued to rock her hips against him in a maddening rhythm, and he would have been mortified at how parts of him were leaping to attention, had she not made it very clear that she enjoyed his response. She just had to mention Potter and all his faults, he thought. If I wasn't doomed before, I am now.
"You scheming witch," he said in admiration, "you may have invoked James Potter to get me into bed with you, but you'd best stop thinking of him now." He pulled her in closer to the juncture of his own thighs and branded her with a burning-hot kiss. "The only name on your lips for the rest of the night is going to be mine."
"Ooh," she said, shivering in delight. "Keep your promises."
"I always do." He picked her up, carried her into his room, growled pleasedly, and shut the door.