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Lily’s head is warm where it’s resting on Severus’s stomach, and a little heavy. He’s ostensibly reading a book on the development of Polyjuice Potion, but most of his attention is taken up by not letting his arm brush against her when he turns a page, and not getting an erection.
She’s supposed to be reading her Charms notes, but at the rate she’s flipping through it, she can’t be absorbing much. Eventually, she gives up any pretense of studying to say, “You should watch the next Quidditch game with me.”
Severus turns a page, then restarts the count in his head for an acceptable length of time to spend on a given page so he, at least, can still pretend he’s doing work. “Are you planning to sit cheering in the Slytherin stands? I’m sure they’ll welcome you there with open arms.”
“Obviously not. And speaking of that, can you stop hanging out with Mulciber? Please? He’s a fucking creep.”
“He’s useful enough.”
“At least you’re not saying he’s your friend. But please, Severus—he looks at me like he wants to eat me, and not in a good way.” She drums her fingernails on the stone floor. “Even Regulus isn’t that bad.”
Severus rolls his eyes. “Regulus is a moron and a child. If you plan to be afraid of a Black, consider the wand-happy one in your House. Or at the very least have the sense to be afraid of Bellatrix. If anyone’s into cannibalism, it’s her.”
Lily sighs. “I don’t think Mulciber literally wants to eat me, Severus, don’t be obtuse. But he sure acts like it. Please, Severus.”
“Can we stop talking about fucking Mulciber?”
“Fine.” She rolls her head on his stomach to look at him. “You’re cute.”
Severus promptly drops the book on his face. Lily laughs at him.
Severus pulls it off of his face to glare at her. “Have you gone blind?” he asks acidly. “Is this a desperate plea for help? Do you want me to take you to Madam Pomfrey?”
Lily reaches up to slap him in the chest, and for a second, involuntarily, his eyes close. “I’m serious,” she says, her hand resting on his chest. “If you’d stop trying so hard to be as unpleasant as possible, girls would be falling all over you.”
Severus rolls his eyes. “I detest people. What would ever possess me to want to spend time around more of them?”
“Do you detest me?”
“Obviously not,” he says. “But why would I want another friend?”
“I’m not just proposing I find you another friend,” she says, drumming her fingers on his thigh. “I can find you a girlfriend, I think. If you stop being such a prat.”
Severus stares incredulously at her. “What in my overall demeanor has indicated to you that I want to pant after some girl the way Potter is always panting after you? Or, worse, that I want to have feelings for someone.”
“I was thinking some sexing up might, you know, loosen you up a bit.”
Severus chokes, then picks up his book and lays it over his face so—hopefully—she misses the burning in his cheeks. “I don’t need sexing up, Lily. Do you know how much human contact is required to do that? And besides, I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.”
“You’re miserable.”
“I’m perfectly fine being miserable.” He pushes the book off his face again. “You don’t need to pair me up with someone, or drag me to Quidditch games, or try to make me more sociable.”
She rolls up to look at him, her face just above his, and he frowns at her. “I just want you to be happy, Severus. And to stop hanging out with your creepy pureblood Housemates.” She sighs. “You’re going down a dark path, Sev. You’ve always been angry, but now you’re—I know you’re making those spells to hurt people. And I know you hate Potter, and he’s a prat, but—don’t sink to his level, or Black’s.”
“I could hardly sink to the level of useless intolerable annoyance of Black or Potter.” He taps her forehead, which doesn’t get her to move out away from his face. He could lean up and kiss her, he thinks. And then she would punch him in the face and never talk to him again, so it wouldn’t be worth it.
Lily rolls her eyes. “Don’t play stupid—it’s not a good look on you.”
“Nothing is a good look on me.”
“Severus. I know you don’t believe in all that pureblood nonsense.”
Severus shrugs. “Given the muggles I know, I might.”
She looks hurt. “Is my family so bad?”
Severus owes more than he could possibly articulate to her parents, to their taking him in when there was no food in his house, to their letting him see her despite their frankly reasonable view that he’s a bad influence on her. “Your parents are fine. Tuney, on the other hand—”
Lily laughs, flopping back down on his stomach. “Petunia has somehow managed to get even worse since she met that Dursley man. But she doesn’t deserve to die over it.”
“And Tobias—”
“Okay, I’ve considered killing your father myself. But Tuney and Tobias aren’t the sum total of all muggles on Earth, or even in Britain. And me—they hate people like me more than muggles. Tainting the blood and all that.”
“Obviously that’s bullshit. Pureblood breeding is what got us the Blacks. And I’m not friends with them—I’m poor and unsociable and halfblood, and despite my being the best potioneer in the school, Slughorn barely knows my name. They are my path out of the hellhole of Spinner’s End. And if I have to bow and scrape and tell their Dark Lord that I think he’s right, I’ll do it.”
“Even if that means saying you think muggleborns deserve to die?”
Severus looks away. “It’s a lie. I’m an Occlumens, Lily, I can lie to the Dark Lord, if it comes to that.”
“But you’ll say it.” She rolls off of him, standing up. He sits up to look at her. “Get rid of Mulciber, Severus, and Avery and the rest of them. I’m going to bed. Let me know when you’ve decided whether my family deserves to live.”
She walks away, and Severus closes his eyes. When her footsteps fade, he presses a hand to his chest, where it aches. She is what he has, beyond the Slytherins, beyond his mother. And he’s going to lose her. To Potter or to someone else, he’s going to lose her.