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"Did you hear?"
Mulciber’s voice slithered into Severus’s ear as he hunched over his Potions essay, his quill scratching against the parchment. He was at his usual table—small, solitary, hidden in a corner behind stacks of old Arithmancy rolls no one bothered to read. Few people ever sought him out here.
Severus stiffened. "Hear what?" he hissed back, keeping his eyes on his parchment.
"Potter and that Mudblood of yours—done."
His quill snapped between his fingers, the jagged break pressing into his skin. He’d have to mend it later—new ones weren’t an option. Not unless he wanted to pinch another from Slughorn’s office. Again.
"She is not my Mudblood," Severus spat, barely above a whisper.
Mulciber snorted, amused, and with a flick of his wand, a chair scraped across the stone floor from another part of the library. He dropped into it, settling far too close. His knee knocked against Severus’s, his breath hot and damp against his cheek. The air between them thickened, the sickly scent of Mulciber’s cologne clinging to it.
"But you want her to be, don’t you?"
Severus kept his gaze locked on his essay, but the words blurred into meaningless ink stains. His skin prickled. Mulciber was too close.
"Apparently, Potter went to visit her over Easter holidays, and it didn’t go well," Mulciber continued, his tone dripping with superiority. "She was screaming about how he had no right to say anything about her sister. Or her family."
Severus’s breath hitched.
"Doesn’t sound like the happy conversation of a happy couple, does it?"
A sharp, twisting thing took root in Severus’s chest—hope, bitter and painful. He hated how quickly it flared, how easily it took hold. He could picture it—Lily, furious, shouting, her hair wild and her eyes burning. Arguing with Potter. Telling him he had no right.
But why?
His fingers curled into fists. His essay was worthless now—just ink and parchment, meaningless, like everything else. He crumpled it in one tight motion, shoved it into his robe pocket, and stood abruptly.
Mulciber didn’t try to stop him. He didn’t need to.
Mulciber’s laughter followed Severus out of the library, sharp and mocking, echoing through the dim corridors long after he had vanished into the shadows.
This wasn’t about Potter. It never was. Mulciber was just toying with him, like everyone else had been since Lily made the foolish decision to give in—to let Potter win. And now, no one would let Severus forget it. Every smirk, every snide remark, every whispered joke at his expense ensured he never lived a moment without feeling like an utter fool.
He couldn’t go to Gryffindor Tower. That was impossible. The moment he set foot in the corridor outside, Potter’s friends would be there—waiting, watching, wands drawn. Ready to hex him before he even had the chance to say her name.
They were always tracking him. Lily called him paranoid, but he knew the truth.
Not that it mattered. Lily probably wasn’t there anyway.
If she and Potter had fought—if she was truly angry, if this was his chance to finally hear her apologize, to see her hesitate, to see regret flicker across her face—there was only one place she would be.
Severus slipped out of the castle, his pace quickening as he descended the craggy stone steps that led toward the boathouse. The further he went, the more the castle loomed behind him, its towering walls stretching high above the grounds, cold and indifferent. He barely registered the distant chatter of students lingering by the greenhouses or the rhythmic crash of the lake’s waves against the shore. His focus narrowed to the path ahead, to where she might be.
He hated this.
Hated the damp chill clinging to the air, creeping beneath his robes and settling into his bones. Hated the uneven ground, the way his boots sank into the mud with every step, thick and sucking. Hated the smell of the lake—stagnant and murky, a heavy presence curling in the back of his throat. The sunlight, though pale and weak, felt oppressive, pressing against his skin, and casting long shadows that stretched toward the water’s edge. The wind wasn’t any better, pulling at his robes, whipping his hair into his face.
He hated plants, hated water, hated all of it.
But Lily was always outside.
She had never minded the way the wind played with her hair or how the grass left green stains on her socks. She had never cared about the cold creeping in as they sat beneath the beech tree by the lake, talking for hours, their voices hushed, as if they were sharing the most important secrets in the world.
It was the only place they could be together—away from the others. Away from Potter and his fan club, away from Mulciber and Avery’s sneers. Out here, there were no expectations, no careful calculations about whose company was acceptable. It was just them.
Or at least, it used to be.
As Severus approached the door of the boathouse, voices echoed through the wooden slats, carrying over the lapping of the lake against the docks. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the door handle.
“You can’t blame James,” Black’s voice rang out. “He has a birth defect called being an only child with two loving parents.”
The words sent a jolt through Severus, and he snatched his hand away as though burned. He pressed himself against the side of the boathouse, sliding down until he was hidden by a tangle of bushes beneath the window.
Black went on, his voice carrying just enough for Severus to catch every infuriating word.
“He can’t fathom people treating the ones he loves poorly. It doesn’t compute with him.”
“I know Petunia is difficult,” Lily said, her voice tight with frustration. “But he isn’t helping at all. If he really cared—”
“Which he does,” Black interrupted smoothly.
“Then he’d just let me handle it the way I need to.”
A pause. Then, Black’s voice again, lighter now. “Can I ask a question? And you promise not to hex me?”
“I don’t know.” Lily’s tone was wary but teasing. “Depends on the question. Is it worth the risk?”
Severus almost smirked at her response, a quiet snort escaping him. But any satisfaction was drowned out by Black’s obnoxiously loud laugh.
“Okay, okay,” Black said, still chuckling. “Well—why bother? That’s what I want to ask.”
“Bother with what?”
“Trying to be on good terms with Petunia. Why does it matter so much?”
Severus stiffened. He hated to admit it, but it was a fair question—one he himself had often wondered. Petunia Evans was a stuck-up, magic-hating Muggle who sneered at everything Lily was. She had made her choice, made it clear she wanted nothing to do with their world. So why should Lily lower herself to keep trying? Even if they were sisters?
Lily didn’t answer Black right away.
For a moment, Severus thought—hoped—she had hexed him into silence. But then, finally, she spoke.
“I think I’m a difficult person to love,” she said quietly.
A soft plop of water echoed outside, as if someone had tossed a pebble into the lake.
“Why would you think something stupid like that?” Black asked, his usual arrogance tempered with something almost resembling concern.
“Because,” Lily sighed, “I try so hard to be a good sister, a good friend, and I still get rejected. Over and over again. And at a certain point, when the pattern keeps repeating, you start to think—maybe those things they say about you are true. That I am difficult and stubborn and freakish and—”
“James doesn’t think any of those things about you,” Black cut in. “And if he does, he loves you for it—not despite it. You can trust me on this. I know what it feels like, to think there must be something fundamentally wrong with you when the people you love keep treating you like you’re not enough. But James isn’t like your sister. Or Snape. Or my parents.”
Severus’s nails dug into his palms.
“I know he’s not like them,” Lily admitted. “But he walked away anyway.”
“He’ll be back.”
There was a shuffling sound, then Black’s voice again. “I’m going to get some lunch. You staying here?”
“Yeah, for a bit.” A pause. Then, softer, “Thanks, Padfoot.”
“Anytime, Evans.”
Severus pressed himself further into the bush as Black stepped out of the boathouse. His stomach twisted bitterly as he watched him walk away, barely restraining the urge to hurl a curse at his retreating back.
When had Lily started calling James’s friends by their juvenile, idiotic nicknames? The thought gnawed at Severus as he watched Black’s retreating figure disappear up the hill toward the castle.
As soon as he was out of sight, Severus seized the moment and slipped into the boathouse.
Once, this had been their place—his and Lily’s. But now it seemed like anyone could intrude on her privacy. The idea of it made his stomach twist with disgust.
She was sitting at the edge of the wooden dock where the boats were tethered, her feet swinging idly above the water.
He cleared his throat.
She turned at the sound, but the second she saw him, her expression fell into a frown of disappointment.
"I heard about you and—"
"Go away." She cut him off, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning her back to him. "I’ve already had a bad day, and I don’t need it getting worse because you decided to bother me."
"Everyone’s talking about how you and Potter broke up."
Lily spun around, eyes blazing. "What are you talking about?"
"And I thought," he pressed on, ignoring the warning in her voice, " finally, you’d see what I’ve been trying to tell you all these years. Finally, you’d be able to forgive me—"
"There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t even have the time to correct them," she snapped.
Then she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the boathouse door shut with a burst of wandless magic so forceful that the wood groaned, the hinges wrenching out of place.
Severus let out a sharp breath, anger simmering beneath his skin. He kicked at a nearby boat, miscalculating how tightly it was tethered. The force sent the boat swinging outward—and before he could react, the momentum yanked him off balance.
With a graceless splash, he tumbled into the lake.
The water was freezing, seeping instantly into his robes. Spluttering, he clawed his way back onto the dock, dripping and seething. He yanked out his wand and dried himself off with a sharp flick, though the chill still clung to his skin.
Shoving his frustration down, he ran up the hill, determined to catch up with Lily. As he reached the top of the stone steps, he skidded to a halt.
Potter was already there, walking toward Lily with a basket full of food—probably nicked from the kitchens, Severus thought bitterly.
"Get lost, Potter," Severus spat, straightening his shoulders. "The whole castle knows you two are done. Your pathetic attempts at pleading for forgiveness with lunch won’t work."
Potter frowned, glancing between Severus and Lily. "What the hell is he talking about?"
"Apparently," Lily said dryly, "the whole castle is talking about how we broke up."
Potter raised an eyebrow. "When did we do that?"
Lily shook her head in confusion, "I have no clue."
Severus scowled. "I heard you and Black talking about how he left you," he insisted, gesturing wildly.
"You shouldn’t eavesdrop on private conversations, Snivellus," Potter sneered, his hand closing around Lily’s as if to make a point.
Severus spluttered. "I know what I heard!"
Lily rolled her eyes. "A couple of words taken out of context, clearly." She turned to James. "Give me a second, okay?"
"I’m staying here," James said flatly, his gaze locked onto Severus like a stunning hex.
Lily sighed, reached up, and took James’s chin in her hand, tilting his face toward her. "I’ll be fine," she murmured before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
James didn't look pleased, but he didn’t argue.
"You," Lily said, turning back to Severus with a sharp glare, "follow me."
Severus hesitated but obeyed, trailing after her until they were a few feet away. He didn’t need to look back to know Potter was still watching him like a hawk, but at least from this distance, he wouldn’t be able to hear.
Lily exhaled, arms crossed. "I don’t know what people are saying or what you think you heard, but just drop it, Severus. This has nothing to do with you."
Severus clenched his fists. "I can’t just stand aside if he’s treating you like you don’t matter."
Lily let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, of course not. I forgot—only you are allowed to treat me that way."
Severus wanted to scream, to argue, to make her understand. But for once, he held his tongue.
“God, you are just so— you are just…” Lily exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples as if trying to force down her frustration. “Have you really been waiting all year for James and me to break up? And even if we did, what do you think would happen? The reasons we aren’t friends anymore are still true, Severus. Or have you finally changed your mind about hanging out with Death Eaters and calling people slurs? Becuase that’s all you have to do. Just say ‘Lily I promise I’m not interested in becoming a Death Eater and I will never use that insulting word again’ and we can be friends again. Its that simple.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Severus insisted. “Potter is—”
“Out of all the people in my life,” Lily interrupted fiercely, “James is the only one who has ever sincerely apologized for hurting me. And when he promises not to do it again, he means it. He’s mature and honest. Unlike you. ”
“Lily! Everyone saw you two—”
“Say another word, and I’ll hex you,” Lily snapped, eyes blazing.
Severus knew that look. He knew she meant it. But he had to push through. He had to have the final word.
“Potter is—”
But Severus never finished. A sudden, searing pain shot through him, sharp and merciless, and he collapsed onto the ground with a strangled gasp. He barely registered the way Lily coolly pocketed her wand before she turned on her heel and strode back to James. He could only watch—frozen, humiliated—as she wrapped her arms around Potter and pulled him into a kiss so passionate it made Severus wish Lily had blinded him with her hex.
Even after they left, he remained frozen where he had fallen, the pain lingering in his limbs like a cruel afterthought. Then, suddenly, warmth spread through his body, and he felt the magic release him. A voice came from behind.
“Pathetic,” Mulciber drawled as Severus picked himself up off the ground. The other boy smirked, twirling his wand lazily between his fingers.
“Turns out I was wrong about Potter and the Mudblood,” Mulciber continued. “This school really is a cesspool of depravity and loose morals.”
Severus snorted, brushing off his robes.
“You coming to the Slug Club tonight, Snape? Lucius Malfoy sent word he’d be there. Said he had something he’d like to discuss with us. An opportunity. ”
Severus felt a slow smile creep onto his face. “I wouldn’t miss it.”