It was an idyllic summer in Spinner’s End. Leaves rustled gently in the wind that swept along the tree tops, their shadows dancing on the grassy knoll. Severus liked the feel of it tickling his skin and exhaled softly, his eyes closed. Moments later his reverie was interrupted by muffled laughter and he turned towards the pretty young girl lying next to him; she was sprawled out on her front, grinning and kicking her legs in the air.
“What?” he asked, his tone defensive. Giggling again at his confusion, she reached out and plucked a soft white feather from his hair, holding it out in the palm of her hand for him to inspect.
“Oh,” he said, quickly rearranging the disappointment on his face. “Thanks, Lily.” She smiled and returned her attention to the open book in front of them, tucking a strand of glossy auburn hair behind her left ear.
“Sev?” she asked. Immediately he ceased ripping blades of grass from their roots, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a potion for brewing Murtlap Essence in here? I thought you said they didn’t teach that one anymore.”
“They don’t,” Severus agreed, pleased by her curiosity.
“Then why-?”
“It’s my mother’s old book,” he interrupted, and comprehension flooded Lily’s expression. “When she was at Hogwarts, they taught you how to make it in sixth year. But now they’ve taken it off the syllabus - they reckon it’s too dangerous for us to handle,” his tone implied much disdain.
“It does sound quite dangerous,” Lily offered, scanning the page of instructions. He snorted scornfully at this.
“Only for people like Potter and Black, who insist on showing off rather than paying attention.” Lily bit her lip and averted her eyes; Severus longed to know what she was thinking. However, she remained silent and soon the opportunity to answer had passed.
“So, where did you find the book?”
“At the bottom of a box, in the attic,” he proudly replied.
“There was a whole load of them.”
A furrow appeared between Lily’s eyes and her tone had an edge of puzzled amusement. “What on earth were they doing up there?”
Severus shrugged and mumbled something vague, his cheeks tinged with pink. The rush of colour seemed a bizarre contrast to his usually pallid complexion. Silently, Lily leant over and placed a consoling hand on his. Feeling like fire erupted inside him.
“Petunia doesn’t like it when I leave my stuff around the house, either. Do you remember Valerie - Tuney’s best friend? Well, she came round for dinner the other day and found my wand on the kitchen table. She thought it was some sort of enormous knitting needle and started waving it about, demonstrating how to knit a scarf.”
Severus couldn’t help but chuckle at the Muggle’s silly mistake. “I expect Petunia was delighted,” he added sarcastically.
“You bet she was! And now Petunia says it’s my fault she can never have friends round ever again...” Lily’s enthusiasm had trailed off by the end of the sentence, the memory stinging more than expected, and neither said anything for what seemed like an age.
Eventually Severus broke the silence.
“Do you ever wish you weren’t a witch?”
She was taken aback by the unexpected question, but Lily’s response was as quick as it was earnest. “Never! Why, do you?”
Severus ignored the question. “Not even when Petunia acts the way she does?”
Lily looked increasingly uncomfortable with the way their conversation seemed to be going. She sat upright, tugging the hem of her cotton dress down over her knees. “She doesn’t mean it, you know.”
“I think she probably does,” Severus answered curtly.
“No, she just doesn’t understand.”
“Then maybe she should try harder.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are we still talking about Petunia here?”
Severus whipped round with a mixture of indignation and bewilderment on his face. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed patiently, refusing to acknowledge the accusatory glare she knew awaited her. “You know what I’m talking about, Severus.” Her reply was calm and even, but not unkind.
Humiliation throbbed painfully beneath his translucent skin. He could feel it ablaze in his chest, seeping into his eyes and ears, filling him up, his pale body churning as the molten liquid burned him from the inside out. No part of him was left untouched; he was drowning in his own shame.
“Look at me,” he whispered in a tiny child’s voice, so lowly his request was barely audible. Lily, sensing his desperation, peeled her gaze away from the ground and reluctantly met his eyes; his, the shiny darkness of the night sky, locked on hers, a brilliant green. She smiled at him, though there was sadness in her eyes.
“LILY?” interrupted a call from the park.
“That’s Petunia,” Lily pointed out unnecessarily. She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she spoke again. “I’d better go.”
“No, stay a little longer,” he implored her, failing to mask the hint of anxiety in his voice.
“LILY!”
“Go on,” he pleaded, “just for a bit.”
“LILY, WHERE ARE YOU?” the calling came louder this time. Lily's body stiffened and she peered across the field in the direction of the park, as if she half-expected Petunia to burst through the bushes at any second.
“She’ll get angry,” Lily wavered, chewing her lip.
“She’s already angry,” he retorted, though hope still mingled in his voice.
“LILY, I KNOW YOU’RE HERE SOMEWHERE!”
“You don’t want her to find this place, do you?” she whispered hurriedly in an attempt to placate him.
He hesitated for a second, before admitting - “No.”
“If I go now, she’ll never guess we were here.”
“And you’ll come back tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she smiled reassuringly.
“You promise?”
Lily rolled her eyes at his unmistakable doubt. “I promise, Sev!” This convinced him - she never broke her promises.
“Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. “See you soon.”
“Bye!” she breathed, bounding off towards the shrubbery. He watched as she disappeared behind the low-hanging branch of an old willow tree, her movements as fluid as that of doe, and Severus was left alone in the field as if she had never even been there.
He ran his hand over the spot where Lily had lain that afternoon; the grass was cool to the touch and bent at odd angles. Then he picked up the soft white feather, tucked it in his pocket, and began his short walk back home.
Look at Me by PrettyGreenEyes
Chapter Notes: DISCLAIMER: Sadly, nothing but the plot is mine. Everything belongs to the amazing JK Rowling :(
Chapter Endnotes: Please review :)