After dinner, someone arrives. When someone else is there, she has to act the servant. "I'm sorry," he always says, before and after, and she smiles up at him, and he seems to take that as acceptance of his apology enough. She puts on a clean white apron and folds her hands and keeps her eyes on the floor.
The guest steps out of the hearth, shaking soot off, followed by a huge black dog.
"Regulus," Severus says, and suddenly his spine is straight and his eyes are unreadable, and he looks terrifying, tall and angular, more architecture than man, a far removed from the skinny mismatched boy she met on the playground as anyone could be, and playing the cowed servant isn't so hard as it might have been.
Lily thinks about the playground. Petunia. Whatever happened to Petunia?
The guest looks around. "Settling into the new house nicely, I see."
She takes the sooty cloak as he shucks it off and hangs it, brushing it off as she moves. It's so soft she wants to keep touching it, but she knows she shouldn't. She moves toward the kitchen to make tea for them both.
The dog's eyes follow her across the room. She feels it, the animal's focus hot as blazing hearth.
"Ah. It likes the mudblood," Regulus observes, amused. "Like attracted to like, I suppose. Go on, then."
She doesn't look at Severus' face, but out of the corner of her eyes, she sees his hand tighten white around the doorknob for just an instant, and then relax. Regulus pats the dog and looks up at her, his expression colder than it was for the animal. "Feed him something."
Lily doesn't meet his eyes but nods, curtsies, and leaves, and the dog follows, as if it understands. She can hear the clicking of the dog's claws behind her and knows it is watching her, watching her bare feet on the cold stone steps (slaves aren't allowed shoes, of course, no matter how cold the house is), watching her descend.
She enters the kitchen and turns on the light. The house has electricity; thank Severus for that as well, because keeping a house this big and empty without a wand or electricity is abominably difficult. She turns to the sitting dog.
She remembers being Head Girl, giving orders to First Years. The memory puffs her full of breath. "Stay."
It tilts its head. It's eyes are huge and golden and a little sad, but it sits and doesn't move.
She turns her back and puts the kettle on, and goes to the icechest-another thing to thank Severus for-and searches for a plate of leftover roast beef. She closes the door and reaches for a carving knife-
A filthy hand-almost a claw-closes around her upper arm, and the plate clatters loudly to the floor. Another hand claps across her mouth before she can scream. The dog is gone, and the man before her is filthy, wearing clothes at least ten years old, and he's whispering something-she bites his hand and squirms, she tastes his coppery blood, but he doesn't budge, his teeth are bared, and his eyes are golden hazel and fixed on hers, and she tries to struggle and scream but he is stronger-and finally he realizes his hoarse whisper is making her name-
"Lily! Lily, it's me-it's Sirius-it's me, Lily, it's me!"
She stops struggling for a moment and his grip relaxes. She tries again to wrench herself free and make a mad dash for the door but he catches her with both hands, shoulder and hair, and swings her around into the counter, pressing her there like a lover, pinning her arms.
"Stop it, Lily, stop it, please, I don't want to hurt you, it's just me-"
"Get your hands off me!" she hisses. "I don't know how you treat servants in your home but Severus will be very angry if he finds out you're manhandling me."
"What has he done to you?" The horror in his eyes gives her pause.
The kettle is whistling a low, low song, but he won't let her go. "What has who done to me?"
"Snape," he spits, as if its a curse.
"I'll ask you not to speak of him like that," she says stiffly, and wrenches her shoulder free. The kettle is screaming now, but she doesn't move to touch it. "Didn't I go to school with you? Aren't you one of the Blacks?"
"I'm-" He pushes his shaggy hair out of his face, rolling his eyes wildly, casting about for something in her face, some recognition, anything. "Merlin's beard, Lily, I was the best man at your wedding."
"I've never been married."
The transformation from exasperation to defeat, watching this man deflate, is satisfying, but also disturbing. "Yes," he snaps. "You have."
"I think I would remember that."
"It was-before. Before the war." His eyes narrowed. "Before you-know-who took over." He searches her face hungrily, but seems to come up empty.
She finds the courage she's been trying to pull up around her middle, and turns her back on him and pours the tea into the teapot, setting out the teacups and cream on a tray.
"You don't remember any of it, do you?"
She takes out a polishing cloth and gives two of the teaspoons a quick buffing, and then places them next to the saucers.
"Please try to remember." There's a begging note in his voice now, and she wishes desperately that she had the ability to detect a lie like Severus has.
"Severus has been my best friend since-since before I went to Hogwarts. He protects me. I get a bit-off, sometimes. Since the accident."
The man makes a sound of disbelief. "Accident. Is that what the prat calls it? When he kidnapped you from your home just before the Dark Lord-"
She's not sure how the knife got into her hand, but she whirls on the man and presses it close, between his ribs. "Give me a reason, dog."
His eyes are huge, his hands up, helpless. His voice comes fast and low. "Lily, I know how they treat-how they treat muggle-borns. I can get you out of here. I can keep you safe from him. We've got safe-houses, places you can stay and never see him again-"
She digs the point of the carving knife closer. "Why would I betray Severus like that?"
"Because he's the reason!" the man hisses. He looks mad, for a moment, demented with grief and hatred. "Because he's the reason James and Harry are dead!"
She doesn't drop the knife, but she pulls it away from his ribs.
"You remember, don't you? James and Harry?"
"They're just names." She closes her eyes and moves her head slowly, side to side, trying to shake them loose.
"They're your husband. Your son."
"I've never been married," Lily says, but it tastes like a lie now. "They're just names that rattle around-"
But Sirius is looking up to the door. "They'll want their tea, I expect. Listen." She opens her mouth again, but he grabs her wrists, twisting the knife past his face, and leans closer, speaking low and fast. "No. Just listen. You still remember how to do magic, right?"
"Of course I do," she snarls.
"Good. Reg and I are working together, trying to bring things down from the inside. Snape is the lynchpin-if we can get him under the Imperius curse, or feed him some Veritaserum, we might really get somewhere. You need to take his wand from him, either get him under control or knock him out or-anything. When you do, Floo us, ask for Padfoot, we can take it from there."
"Take his-why?"
Sirius rolls his eyes again. "Because you think he'll just submit to the Curse, do you? Or that he cares about the plight of muggleborns and muggles?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You having to play servant!" he hisses frantically. "Maybe Snape even treats you all right, maybe, but do you know what goes on out there, to the other muggleborns? Have you even left the house in the last three years?"
"Not really. It's not safe."
Sirius is shocked enough to let go of her, and she puts the knife down on the counter, next to the tray. Its tip is red.
"Muggleborns are slaves for high-ranking Death Eaters. Muggles are being killed like cattle. All across Europe. Beauxbatons still stands, but Durmstrang has fallen, and so has Hogwarts."
Lily shakes her head. "Severus keeps me safe."
Sirius takes a step back and regards her coldly. "And how do you pay for that safety, then."
Lily does not understand, or maybe she doesn't want to. "Pay for-"
"Maybe you didn't notice how he was after you ditched him at the end of fifth year, but I did. Stared after you. Watched you all the time." Sirius is savage, leaning close, his breath hot and awful on her. "I know what he wanted. Don't think for an instant he's keeping you safe out of the goodness of his heart. If he hasn't done it yet, I imagine it's only to wait for you to come to him of your own accord. To really win you from James. Or maybe-maybe he's already done it, and you just can't remember."
She almost picks up the knife again as she realizes what he's implying. "Never," she hisses. "He would never-"
"You're already under one memory charm. What's another?" Sirius says loftily, moving to the door.
"You're wrong." But it sours in her mouth, and her gut twists, and she looks away. The sugar bowl trembles in her fingers, and when she looks back up, Sirius is regarding her with large, golden, canine eyes. He snatches up a few bits of fallen roast and gulps them down off the floor, and she lifts the tea tray. It's heavier than it's ever been. The teacups rattle in their saucers. It sounds like a hailstorm. She puts it back down. She takes a deep breath. Clenches her fists, her teeth. Her cheeks are wet again. She hates this feeling, like she's a rock skipping across her own memories instead of sinking into them.
When she picks up the tea tray again, it doesn't shake at all. The dog follows her out.