Chapter Text
She could still see the ghost of her younger self jumping for joy, ecstatic, after reading the elegant script inked onto the parchment.
You have been hired as a research and development chemist for Walton Davis Research company.
It was an opportunity she had desperately craved in her youth, yet now, a cold and suffocating dread settled heavily in her chest. She could almost hear the sharp edge in his voice, anticipating the inevitable reprimand. The shrill whistle of the kettle jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts. Hurriedly, almost mechanically, she poured the boiling water into the mugs. She glanced up at the steel-gray clock just as the low, familiar rumble of an engine vibrated through the driveway. The rhythmic rattle of the doorknob pierced the tense silence of Lily’s apprehension, and moments later, he stepped inside, a grim expression carving deep lines into his face.
Her heart leapt into her throat at the sudden, paranoid thought that he had somehow already found out. But the fear was instantly dispelled by his first words.
"Work was atrocious. Lindsey shows absolutely no remorse for being a complete bitch." He kicked his shoes carelessly toward the rack, his gaze finally drifting over to her, scanning her up and down. "Did you make my tea?"
Without a word, she carried the mugs into the living room. The walk was brief; the house was so cramped it felt like one giant, oppressive room. He sank into the recliner, immediately flicking on the television. Lily tried to focus on the droning white noise of the broadcast, attempting to tune out his bitter remarks about Lindsey, searching for the fleeting courage to confess her news. He snatched the cup from her hands and took a cautious sip. "Don't you think?"
It was only then she realized he was addressing her. She swallowed hard, nodding mutely. She didn't trust her own voice; she had never been capable of feigning normalcy, especially not with the suffocating threat of a disagreement looming over them.
"Why haven't you said a word?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
She sank into the couch opposite him, her hands trembling slightly. "I received a job offer today. As a research and development chemist."
She watched his face closely, unable to decipher the complex mask that painted his features. It certainly wasn't excitement, though she hadn't expected celebration from him anyway.
"Well," he said slowly, "why didn't you leap at the opportunity to tell me?"
There it was. The trap was sprung. She knew it was coming—he possessed an uncanny ability to detect when she was withholding something. Having essentially grown up together, he had witnessed her through every vulnerable phase of her life, accumulating a mental arsenal of ammunition to use against her.
“It’s for a very prestigious institute” she murmured, her voice wavering, "but it's in London."
His expression shifted into something entirely readable: irritation laced with a sharp, defensive anger. "That's so far," he stated flatly.
"I know, but it is an incredible opportunity," she countered quickly. She could see the profound disappointment hardening his gaze. Her own assertiveness caught her off guard; she hadn't even truly decided whether to accept the position, having spent all her energy dreading his reaction. "Severus, please."
"Lily," he countered, his tone unyielding. He offered no comfort, no concession, and she felt her frustration flare, burning hot against her anxiety. He was being so painfully difficult, entirely devoid of empathy.
"I'm taking it." She stood up, her posture rigid, her voice anchoring itself with a grounded certainty she hadn't possessed the entire evening. "I’ve wanted something like this for so long. I’ve worked myself to the bone for this. It’s the entire reason I got my degree."
Severus stood as well, towering over her. "I thought you wanted us," he barked, his voice rising in volume. Lily wavered, the guilt pulling at her. "You didn't even consult me! How could you apply for a position knowing it was so far away? Knowing that I can't live there with you?"
"Why not, Sev?" she cried, tears finally pricking her eyes. "I’ve lived with you in Cokeworth, knowing damn well that staying in London would have given me far better opportunities after graduating from Oxford!"
"That was your choice," he spat, taking a predatory step toward her. "Back when you actually cared about me and this relationship. Now you're just being entirely selfish."
"I'm selfish?" She was shouting now, reckless and blind to the implications this fight might have on their future. "All I have ever done is give! I do one single thing for myself, and suddenly you act as though I’ve abandoned us!"
"You have, Lily! To me, you've given up. How am I supposed to maintain a relationship with someone who lives miles away? I can't just uproot my entire life just so you can mix a few chemicals together!" he roared. He flinched slightly, a fleeting look of regret crossing his face at the sheer harshness of his own words.
Driven by a desperate need to hide the tears blurring her vision, Lily tried to push past him. But his hand shot out, gripping her wrist. She flinched away from his touch. The sudden movement shocked him into letting go, and she seized the moment to flee down the short hallway, slamming the bedroom door shut and throwing the lock.
Outside, the muffled sounds of his rage echoed through the thin walls. She heard the violent crash of furniture being thrown, the sickening shatter of the empty vase as the coffee table was upended. Lily dissolved into heavy, racking sobs, pressing her palm firmly over her mouth to muffle the sound. She refused to grant him the satisfaction of her distress; she knew he would only weaponize her tears as proof of her lingering devotion, using them to manipulate her into staying.
In the dark room, she tried to reason with herself. To some extent, his anger was logical. She hadn't told him because she never truly believed she was a competitive candidate. She had been unemployed for a solid year following university, competing against far more experienced scientists. The anticipated surge of pride and happiness she should have felt for achieving her dream was entirely vacant. It was a hollow victory, spoiled by his misery. And he was right—how would they survive the distance? Severus was rooted entirely in his own stubbornness; he would never move for her.
When the heavy thud of the front door signaling his departure finally echoed through the house, Lily let go of her mouth. She sobbed freely, mourning feelings she couldn't yet put a name to. She wept for the deep, stabbing ache in her chest, for Severus, and for whatever twisted version of love still lingered between them.
Her mind drifted backward, seeking refuge in the past, recalling the very first time they had met. He had been eavesdropping on a vicious argument between her and Petunia at the local playground, stepping out of the shadows to offer solace to a bruised, nine-year-old Lily.
“Lilies are my favorite flower,” He said, smiling at her. She sniffled and looked up with hopeful eyes. Not many people had said that to her, only asked if she liked the flower. She found she couldn’t tell if she liked the flower or not. “I also love the color green”
She felt heat rise up to her cheeks at the compliment, she wasn’t used to being showered with so many at the first interaction. He had dark hair that spilled over his forehead, it was the darkest shade of black she had ever seen. It matched his clothes, a black long sleeve with holes at the end, and black trousers. He had sunken eyes, in a way that told her he didn’t get much sleep. “Thank you. You’re quite kind…. um-”
“Severus” He provided, “My name is Severus Snape”
“Lily Evans” Lily smiled this time, wiping her cheeks. “I live down the road, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around”
She felt a warmth bloom in her cheeks. She wasn't accustomed to such direct compliments from strangers. He had dark, curtained hair that spilled over his forehead—the deepest, most absolute shade of black she had ever seen. It matched his attire: a threadbare black long-sleeve shirt with frayed holes at the cuffs, and matching trousers. His eyes were deeply sunken, bearing the heavy violet shadows of someone who rarely slept.
"Thank you. You’re quite kind... um—"
"Severus," he supplied quickly. "My name is Severus Snape."
"Lily Evans." She had smiled then, wiping the dampness from her cheeks. "I live just down the road, but I don't think I've ever seen you around."
His expression had shifted, a guarded shadow crossing his face as he looked away. Lily had instantly regretted her words, assuming she had misspoken, but before she could apologize, he murmured, "I just moved to Cokeworth. I live five minutes from this park."
After that, their meetings became a daily ritual. He transformed into the most significant anchor in her life. Severus understood her implicitly, absorbing her complaints about Petunia’s cruelty and her parents' volatile screaming matches without judgment.
It was only when they transitioned to secondary school that his demeanor began to warp. His attention turned possessive, his gaze growing fiercely wary of any other boys who dared to approach her. Whenever she questioned his hostility, he would simply dismiss them as 'arses' who only targeted him because of his lower-income background. Lily, blinded by loyalty, believed him. She let him make her feel guilty for ever enjoying anyone else's attention.
Then came the argument that shifted everything. In the heat of a petty dispute, he had abruptly kissed her. The sensation had been jarring—odd, clinical, and deeply off-putting. When he pulled back, horror and sheer agony were etched into his features. Panicking at his distress, Lily had immediately sought to soothe him.
"It's okay, it's fine, Sev."
She hadn't understood what had prompted the outburst; she had never once entertained the thought of romance between them. But Severus took her frantic reassurance as an unspoken acceptance of his affection. From that day on, the boundaries were permanently redrawn, and she found herself entirely powerless to fix it. He walked her home that evening, pressing another brief, unwanted kiss to her lips. Lily hadn't responded. She had simply turned and walked inside.
If Lily had ever allowed herself the luxury of deep introspection, she might have realized that her relationship with Severus was built on a foundation of spite, not love. That evening, she had walked into her living room only to find Petunia waiting, having spied on the exchange and promptly ratted to their mother. Petunia had hurled a barrage of cruel insults regarding Severus’s poverty and social standing. Spurred by the foolish, reactionary pride of youth, Lily defended him fiercely on principle. The very next day, she accepted Severus’s romantic overtures purely to prove a point to her sister—to prove that prejudice was wrong, and that Severus was a good person.
However, she still couldn’t help the melancholy that followed her after this new change in their relationship.
She constantly reminded herself that he saw her truly, that they functioned well together. He cared for her. Her own parents' toxic marriage was a terrible metric for romance, so she rationalized her lingering apprehension as mere relationship anxiety. She did her best to brainwash herself, and for a time, it worked. He became sweeter, his sharp edges softening, though he established strict rules regarding her friendships with other men. She complied willingly, sacrificing her social circle just to keep the peace.
They were doing well enough, until her acceptance letter from Oxford arrived. Severus had been accepted into a local university only thirty minutes away, making the distance entirely manageable, yet he remained bitterly sour about her achievement. It was during this period of resentment that he began demanding a deeper physical intimacy—a threshold Lily wasn't sure she was ready to cross. When she voiced her hesitation, it ignited another explosive row. He instantly accused her of withholding herself because she didn't truly love him, claiming she was simply biding her time until she found a better man at Oxford.
They didn't speak for a week. Lily remained resolute, feeling cheapened and used. But when he finally came to her, broken and apologetic, she succumbed to the guilt. She gave in letting him kiss her in parts that they hadn’t intimately explored, she was forced to give him pleasures that he she hadn’t before in ways that she didn’t think about too much. She felt zoned out, while everything was happening. During it, she simply detached from her body, staring at the ceiling while he lost himself in loud, unreciprocated grunts of satisfaction. He never noticed her absence. Even when she refused to give herself to him entirely, he adapted, pressing into her with dry, rigorous, painful motions that left him sated and her aching. When it was over, he would plant a soft kiss on her lips and collapse into sleep. Lily would lie awake, weeping silently into the dark, entirely unable to articulate the source of her profound grief. If he noticed her emotional withdrawal in the days that followed, he never mentioned it.
Soon, it was time to leave for Oxford. Another petty argument flared, but too drained to fight, she forgave him quickly. After a year, they broke up because of the strain.Not seeing him as frequently, she was able to finally think for herself. At first she didn’t know how to process the change, but single life appealed to her and she got to rediscover herself. It was only a year later that he came to visit her and wouldn’t stop at anything to prove his love for her again. She was hesitant, but the external factors in her life led to her succumbing to him once again. She graduated early. Instantly, Severus was there, proposing they move into a house together in Cokeworth. She agreed. The proposal arrived like a life raft in the wake of a devastating fight with her parents regarding her post-grad future. Furthermore, she had lost her stable research assistant position during her final term. For a lifelong overachiever, the loss shattered her morale. Graduating early no longer felt like a triumph; self-doubt and suffocating insecurity clawed at her mind, intoxicating her with the belief that she simply needed a safe place to hide. Severus was ecstatic with her surrender, and she convinced herself that domestic isolation was exactly what she needed.
A single month into the arrangement exposed the terrifying reality of her choice.
She was utterly miserable and she needed an escape. Watching her old Oxford friends post snapshots of their vibrant, ambitious lives on social media only highlighted the ghost she had become. She hadn't realized just how much of herself she had sacrificed until her former best friend, Marlene, sent a sudden text message: I miss you terribly. We need to see each other soon.
It was as if a circuit flipped in Lily's brain. The fog cleared, replaced by a desperate, frantic panic. She spent the following weeks covertly applying to every open laboratory position in London, running to reclaim the shattered pieces of her old dreams.
Now, sitting in the oppressive silence of the locked bedroom, the phantom scent of Severus’s cheap cologne and stale tea still hung heavy in the air. Lily reached into the pocket of her cardigan, her fingers brushing against the crumpled, folded piece of paper she had hidden there like contraband. She pulled it out, smoothing the creases against her thigh.
Walton Davis Research Company.
The bold typography stared back at her, a stark lifeline thrown into the drowning depths of her reality. She closed her eyes, listening intently to the house. The aggressive, chaotic sounds of his departure had faded, replaced by the low, mocking hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He was gone for the night. He would likely seek solace at the local pub, drowning his anger in pints of bitter ale before returning tomorrow with a quiet, sullen expectation of her apology.
As she thought of him reaching out to kiss her again in a form of accepting her apology, something shifted fundamentally within her. The guilt that had dictated her choices for years, the heavy obligation born from childhood loyalty and sisterly spite, began to evaporate, leaving behind a cold, sharp clarity.
She had spent her entire youth protecting Severus Snape from the world, only to realize she now needed protection from him.
Lily stood up, her joints popping in the quiet room. She didn't pack a bag. Packing required time, and time invited hesitation. Instead, she walked over to the small vanity in the corner, picked up her leather purse, and checked for her wallet and train pass. Everything was there.
She walked straight to the front door. With one final glance at the cramped, dark flat that had nearly swallowed her whole, Lily turned the knob and stepped out into the cool, damp night air of Cokeworth. The streetlamps cast long, flickering shadows on the pavement, but for the first time in a year, the path ahead of her felt entirely illuminated.