There Is No Such Place

"Evans."

Lily looked up from her Transfiguration homework. Snape was leaning over her desk, his hair falling into his eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked. Her essay needed only a final polish to be complete, and she'd been working intently before his interruption.

Snape pushed her books out of the way and sat down beside her. He was more animated than usual; his sullen air had been replaced by suppressed excitement. He leaned in close so he could speak without being heard by Madam Pince.

"I've identified the Potion."

"Really? What is--"

"Not here." He started putting her books in her bag, pulling her quill from her fingers. "Come with me."

Lily was ready to argue, but she was curious, and Snape's excitement was infectious. Attractive, too, she decided as they almost ran down the staircases.

Not that she thought he was good looking. Apart from his nicely shaped hands.

Snape led her down to the dungeons, finally pausing beside a blank stretch of wall.

"Parseltongue," he said softly. A door opened in the stone. "Coming?"

"I don't think--" The Head Boy and Girl were the only students allowed to enter other houses' common rooms, and a nearby suit of armour, clearly the Slytherin guardian, was looking awfully forbidding.

"Relax, Evans. No one else is here, remember?" He smiled slightly. "Of course, you could take five points from Gryffindor after we're done, if it will make you feel better."

Lily followed him through the doorway, shivering as it closed behind her. At least the suit of armour wasn't as talkative as the Fat Lady.

"Wow," she said as she looked around the Slytherin common room. The furnishings were obviously of a high quality, but there was something forbidding about the heavy furniture in the shadowed room. Not even the enormous carved fireplace, fire burning brightly, could make the room look cheerful. "No wonder you people are all evil, living in a place like this."

"We're not all evil, Evans. Some of us are merely unbearably misanthropic." He led her down a corridor, into what she took to be the boys' dorms.

"I-I'm not sure I should be here," she said. The sheer masculinity of the long dorm was overpowering, and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

Snape appeared to read her thoughts. "Unlike Rosier, I'm not particularly interested in assaulting other students." He pulled a heavy black trunk open. "The number of times I've had to pull him off some terrified little first year..."

"That's, uh, good of you."

"Yeah, well, if you let him go, the kids just grow up to be even worse, and you can never control them. And Gibson isn't exactly taking an interest. I keep telling him, if someone had done something for Rosier back in first year, maybe he wouldn't be such a problem now. Not that he cares."

Gibson was the fifth year Slytherin male prefect. As far as Lily could tell, he spent every prefect meeting carving runes into the table.

Snape straightened up and handed her a book. There was a picture of a Grim on the cover, superimposed over a cauldron. "Page 313."

Lily opened the book, trying to ignore the unpleasant tingling sensation under her fingers.

"I can see why you didn't bring this into the library."

"Yeah. It's not something I want to have to explain to Professor Spawforth." Their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was also the head of Slytherin house, and Lily had heard that he was universally hated by his charges.

Page 313 held a recipe for a Life-Extending Potion.

"It's level two on the proscribed Potions list," said Snape. "It's not always a Dark Potion -- it depends on how you acquired the ingredients. And read this."

Lily read the indicated passage. "It has to be brewed by children?"

"A pureblood and a Mud -- a Muggle-born. And technically, not only children, but virgins. Not all societies make the distinction."

Lily was glad that it was too dark for Snape to see her blush. She was once again all too aware that she was sitting on Snape's bed, alone in his dorm. His leg was pressed against hers, and she felt tingly and warm.

To distract herself, she said, "Do you think she does this every few years? Gets two students who fit the requirements and has them brew the Longaevitas Potion?"

"I don't know. It's not exactly common -- a pureblood -- not a half-blood -- and a Muggle-born, both skilled in Potions, old enough to brew the thing, yet young enough to be, uh, fully qualified." He didn't blush, but his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. In the shadows, he seemed even paler and gaunter than usual, like a Byronic vampire. "I don't know how old she is. All I can find out about her is that she's an ex-Slytherin. The other records are restricted."

"I'm impressed that you got that far," Lily said. Teachers' school records were notoriously hard to find. Not that Crowley had ever bothered to conceal her house allegiance, though most teachers did.

Lily picked up the book, meaning to flip through the pages, but Snape took it out of her hands.

"Not a book for nice Gryffindor prefects."

"I thought you said that knowledge had no moral force. Or something along those lines, anyway."

"It's still dangerous, Evans. And you Gryffindors never stop to think before you do something stupid."

She bristled at that, but there was real concern in his eyes. "So, uh, do you have many books on Dark magic?"

"Hundreds."

"Oh."

Well, there went that line of small talk. She shouldn't have been surprised; the boys were always complaining that he knew a lot of curses, and there were rumours that, back in first year, he'd bullied the Slytherin seventh years into leaving him alone.

"That's, um, a strange thing to collect."

He almost smiled at her reaction. "I find it interesting."

"The Dark Arts?"

"Everyone needs a hobby," he said, perfectly deadpan. Despite herself, Lily started laughing.

"And here I thought you had no sense of humour."

"I don't. Ask anyone."

Lily laughed even harder.

"Evans?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here over Christmas?"

"My house is being redecorated, and my sister is bringing her boyfriend home to meet the family. Except for me." Lily took a deep breath. "She, uh, she doesn't like that I'm a witch."

"What about Potter and his little friends? Why didn't you go home with one of them?" The sullenness had returned to Snape's manner with the mention of James.

Lily shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "They didn't invite me."

"Huh." Snape looked away. "I always said they were morons."

Despite herself, Lily felt a flare of defensive anger. "Yeah, well, I always said that Rosier was a pathetic thug, so I guess we share a hatred for each other's friends. At least no one has to protect first year girls from any of my boys." She stood up. "I'm not supposed to be here. I should go."

"Good idea." Snape's voice was cold, but he walked her to the outer door.

"It wasn't girls," he said quietly as she was leaving.

"Excuse me?"

"Rosier. It wasn't girls. Or rather, it wasn't just girls. He'll grab anything that moves, as long as it's smaller than him. It's mostly a power thing. You, uh, you should watch yourself."

"Charming." Lily was reminded of the rumoured Scandalous Secret Sex-Lives of the Slytherins, most of which she'd discounted as the product of Bertha Jorkins' fevered brain. She wanted to ask whether those stories were true, but the entrance had already closed.

Anyway, there were some things you just didn't discuss with boys you barely knew.

Feeling restless, Lily wandered aimlessly through the castle. The empty halls reminded her of the empty dorms, and the missing friends who'd left such a gap in her life. She'd never experienced self-doubt when twins had been around. Jane and Katherine had recognised the gaps in her knowledge of the wizarding world, and never made her feel stupid or ignorant. They'd even managed to cushion her from the worst of Marguerite and Mary.

She passed Professor Flitwick, who called a cheery greeting and stopped to discuss a charm they'd studied in the last week of classes.

She didn't know many Ravenclaws, she mused as Flitwick finally bounded away. There were the prefects, of course, a few people from her classes that she knew well enough to greet in the halls, but none she considered friends. It was the same with the Hufflepuffs. As for Slytherin ... well, she could apparently spend time with Severus Snape without the sky falling, but even he wasn't someone she'd normally associate with. Hundreds of books on Dark magic indeed. Some hobby.

He did have nice hands, though. And a pleasing, though rare, smile.

Lily stopped walking.

Snape.

No way.

She did not like Snape. Not like that.

Lovely, Liliane, said Petunia's voice. Just the boy for you.

Shut up, Petunia, Lily thought savagely. I don't need your help here.

She made her way to the library and pulled out the seventh year potions textbook. Finding a desk, she opened it to the chapter on Level Two Restricted Potions and tried to forget about Snape.

***

Lily lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about Potions ingredients, the Dark Arts and Professor Crowley. She'd never cared for the Professor, but she had an odd urge to impress the woman, to prove that she, a Gryffindor, could be just as brilliant at Potions as Snape.

Snape.

Lily stifled a groan and rolled over onto her stomach. Snape.

Who had a biting sense of humour and nice hands. Who was almost as brilliant as James or Sirius, if a little more specialised. (Or obsessive, her mind whispered.)

Who considered the Dark Arts a hobby.

"Once you have information about something, you can deal with it," he'd said. Well that was all well and good, but she'd spent hours in the library, and still felt lost.

Snape was excited about the project. The boys would say that was a perfectly good reason to leave it well alone, although Sirius would probably suggest that she sabotage the Potion, preferably in such a way that led to explosions and chaos.

Lily curled herself up into a ball and decided to think about it in the morning.

Her last thoughts, before she finally fell asleep, were of Snape.

***

She was walking through empty corridors. Around her, she could hear voices and footsteps, the distant call of teachers and other students, but there was no one there. She opened doors and entered previously unknown rooms, but she was alone.

There had been people here once, but they only remained in echoes.

She swung around as she heard approaching footsteps. Severus stood before her, the Sorting Hat in his hands and a mocking smile on his face.

Lily tried to run, but her legs were rooted to the ground. She knew, in that instant, that she was dreaming, but she couldn't force herself to wake up. And surely that was wrong, once you knew you were dreaming, you were able to wake, but she was still there, and Severus was forcing the Sorting Hat down over her head, over her eyes, it blocked her airways and she couldn't breathe, but the hat was just laughing, and she heard its voice as clearly as she had when she was eleven: "I see a great deal of potential in you, Lily Evans..."

Lily awoke to find that her heart was pounding and her skin was damp. Oh, that was embarrassing, having a nightmare like a small child, but she sat up and took a few deep breaths to reassure herself that she could breathe properly.

It took her a long time to get back to sleep, but she resolutely avoided thinking of her Sorting.

***

"It's a Longaevitas Potion, isn't it?"

Crowley didn't look up from her desk. "Ten points from Gryffindor for not knocking, Evans." She paused. "But five points for identifying the Potion. Or did Snape help?"

"Uh, yeah. He did."

Crowley opened her hand as if to release the hypothetical points into the air. "Ah, well. I should have guessed that he'd figure it out. Although I confess, I'm surprised that he shared this information." She glared at Lily, as if wondering what hold she had over Snape.

"Professor?"

"Sit down, Evans. I can't concentrate with you looming over my desk like that."

Lily sat, uncomfortably reminded of her height. She was taller than any of the girls in her year, and sometimes felt like she was entirely made of knees and elbows. Crowley's sharpness had robbed her of the small amount of courage she'd screwed up in order to confront her teacher, and she felt a flash of anger, knowing that this had been Crowley's intention.

She realised that she was fidgeting with her watchband, and forced herself to put her hands in her lap and met Crowley's eyes.

Crowley held her gaze for several moments, then looked away. "I'll say this for Potter and Black," she said at last, "they brought you to my attention. I'd barely noticed you before this year, but it's impossible to be involved with that pair without drawing attention. I don't know what possessed you to associate with that crowd, but I'm oddly pleased that you did."

She looked into Lily's eyes, her face alight with the same obsession that Lily had seen in Snape. "You must understand, Evans, you have the potential to become a powerful witch. You could be the most powerful of your generation."

"My grades--"

"Oh, grades ... this ridiculous competition with the other students. Statistics." Her voice was bitter. "Power isn't just a matter of getting good grades, Evans, although yours are adequate and better. You have potential." Crowley pursed her lips, staring searchingly at Lily. "I want to help you meet your potential."

"That's, um, very considerate of you..."

"But you'll have none of it."

"I--"

"Because you Gryffindors are far too good to understand grey areas, aren't you, Evans? It's all black and white and red and gold."

"Ma'am?"

Crowley leaned back and rested her steepled fingertips against her lips. "You want to know what I plan to use the Potion for. How I got the ingredients. Why I'm asking two students to do such ... morally ambiguous work."

"Well ... yes. Professor. I'd like to know. I think I have the right."

"And if I tell you that it's none of your business?"

"Then ... I guess I'd have to step away from the project."

Crowley watched her closely. Lily had the odd feeling that the woman could read her mind.

"I'm disappointed in you," Crowley said at last. "I'd believed you capable of more ... they'll hold you back, you know. Those Gryffindor boys. You'll end up nothing more than just another Quidditch groupie. While I--" She broke off, inhaling sharply. "Tell me the truth, Evans. Do you want to leave the project?"

Ever since Snape had shown her that book the day before, she'd wanted nothing more than to get away from this. But now that the option was before her, she had to force herself to open her mouth. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very well. I'll speak to Snape." Crowley picked up her quill. "I hope your superiority and vast moral sensibilities are a comfort to you in the future." She sighed. "Get out of my sight, Evans. I don't want to see your face."

Lily stood, hesitating. "It's not because I'm a Gryffindor," she said, "truly. I want to do the project, I want to learn, but I need to know--"

Crowley looked up at her. "Go," she hissed.

Lily fled.

***

The greenhouses were warm and damp after the dry winter air. The humidity was making Lily's nose run, and she wiped it as she pruned her crystal rosebush.

"You dropped the project."

Lily jumped in surprise at Snape's voice, dropping her pruning shears. She bent to retrieve them while she tried to figure out what to say.

When she did think of something, it was a rather lame, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I can be pretty quiet when I choose. Why'd you leave?"

"I should think it'd be pretty obvious, Snape."

"You're scared?" He sneered slightly.

"A little." He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Doesn't it scare you? Even a little? Or have you handled curses and hexes for so long that you don't recognise the taint anymore?"

Snape stooped to examine a small flowering shrub, picking a leaf and crushing it. He examined the purple sap it left on his fingers and said quietly, "It's true that I was exposed to so-called Dark magic long before I knew that polite society--" his voice became bitter -- "made such distinctions. Perhaps I am tainted." He straightened and offered her a mocking bow. "I'll remove myself from your presence and leave you to contemplate your purity." He glanced at her crystal rose, then turned away.

Her throat suddenly felt too tight. "Wait," she said awkwardly.

He stopped and turned.

"I -- I didn't mean to be rude," she said.

"I did."

"I know."

He returned to her side and slowly picked up her pruning shears. Carefully, he snipped a dead leaf from her shimmering plant.

"You're good at Potions, Evans," he said finally. "I don't understand why you don't embrace that."

"There's a difference between Potions and the Dark Arts."

"That Potion is only borderline."

"Close enough." She couldn't bring herself to admit how desperately she wanted to complete the Potion, to experience the satisfaction of knowing that she could perform complicated, advanced magic. He wouldn't understand.

Lily pulled the shears from his hands, noting as she did so that his skin was dry and clean. "You've obviously spoken to Professor Crowley. Did she tell you why she had us brewing it?"

He glanced away. "No."

"I can't brew it without knowing why she wants it. It's not as powerful as the Elixir of Life, but it's still a powerful--"

"I know all that. Why do you think I'm still on the project?"

"Good old Slytherin ambition." Her voice was bitter, reminding her of Crowley.

"Well, when Gryffindor courage fails..."

"It's not cowardice. It's a conscience." Before she could stop herself, she added, "I imagine you've heard of such things."

His eyebrows went up. "What do you think I am?"

"I don't know!" He looked surprised at her outburst, but she couldn't stop herself.

"You're arrogant, you're always getting into fights with my friends, yet you hardly even look at me, you couldn't offer a wholehearted compliment if your life depended on it, you have a mighty hazy idea of right and wrong -- but you don't call me 'Mudblood', and you saved those kids from Rosier, even if you reckon you had an ulterior motive, and you have a really nice smile which no one ever sees, and lovely hands, and you're rather interesting looking, if not actually handsome, although you might want to consider washing your hair once, maybe twice a day, and I really think that you're supposed to kiss me now, because I truly shouldn't be allowed to talk like this--"

He kissed her. She gave a little squeak of surprise, and then realised that he was kissing her, and his lips were warm, and his arms were around her waist. She kissed him back, and no more words were needed.

After what felt like an eternity, they separated.

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, groping for her handkerchief. "But I really need to blow my nose."

He swallowed. "You did say..."

"You didn't have to if you didn't want to."

"But I did want to. I've wanted to for a long time. That's what confuses me."

He kissed her again.

"Will the Potion work without me?" she asked when they had parted.

"Not as well as it should But you worked on it for a couple of days. It's enough."

"Okay." Lily kissed him first this time. He hands found their way around his neck. She could feel him shiver as she touched the skin at the top of his spine; she wondered if her hands were cold, but he didn't seem to be complaining...

"And what do we think we're doing?"

They sprang apart.

"We were--"

"That is--"

"It was a rhetorical question, chaps," said Professor Sprout. "I don't think I need an explanation. Although I must say that I'm surprised at both of you."

Lily exchanged a look with Snape. He looked mortified at being dressed down by maternal Professor Sprout. Sprout had only been at Hogwarts since the beginning of the year; she was quite young and considered to be pretty easygoing.

"Uh, Professor?" she asked.

"What is it, dear?"

"We, uh, that is--"

"I'd prefer that this not come to Professor Spawforth's attention," said Snape.

Sprout considered it for a few seconds, then softened.

"Very well. On this occasion, I'll let the standard detention go."

"Thankyou," Lily breathed.

"But I'm taking five points from each of your houses, and you can help me carry those pots--" she waved her hand at a large pile of ceramic pots -- "to Greenhouse 2."

Sprout let them use magic to complete their chore, and shooed them off with instructions to find a different corner of the school. Lily blushed and Snape's lips thinned, but they'd gotten off easy and they both knew it.

"Would you like to go for a walk around the lake?" Snape asked.

"I'd love to."

The frozen lake was fascinating, with little frozen ripples and patches where the giant squid had broken through the surface. Checking that there was no one about, Snape wrapped an arm around her waist.

"My friends will probably kill you when they find out," she said.

"So would mine. To say nothing of Crowley. She said some pretty harsh things about you."

"I can imagine." Lily sighed. "There goes my chance of topping Potions."

"You're too good for her to fail you, though." They walked on in silence for a few minutes. "Spawforth, on the other hand, would kill me."

"You? Why? He's your head of house!"

"He doesn't like me. Doesn't trust me. And if he finds out that I'm corrupting a nice Gryffindor..."

Lily laughed. "You haven't corrupted me."

"Give me time." He kissed her, and Lily's knees buckled. "Lily..." he breathed.

"Severus..."

"You were wrong, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"You said that I never look at you. That's not true."

"You never spoke to me. And you never stopped Marguerite from being horrible. She made me cry in second year, and you didn't do anything."

"I know." Snape looked out over the lake. "But if you can't handle Marguerite, how will you handle the real world?" More softly he said, "anyway, they'd think it was pretty strange if I started defending a Gryffindor Muggle-born, and I don't like it when people pay too much attention to my actions."

"So you don't take any?"

"I kissed you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but--"

Snape pushed his hair out of his face. "Slytherin is a complicated house, Lily. And I -- well, I grew up with certain ideas, and it's hard to admit that I'm wrong. Harder to admit that my father or Lucius are wrong."

"I understand," Lily admitted, thinking of Petunia, whom she'd once looked up to, whose respect she still desired, even though she knew she'd never have it. "Is Lucius your brother?" she asked.

"What? Oh no, he's just a friend. A friend of my father's, really."

"Okay." He'd said something once which had made her think he had brothers or sisters, or both, but she couldn't remember what it was, and she got the impression that he wasn't interested in talking about it. Instead, she kissed him, hard, and then took advantage of his distraction to stuff snow down his shirt.

"Hey!" he cried.

Lily kissed him swiftly. "Catch me if you can!" She took off, hearing his footsteps behind her. A snowball sailed over her shoulder; she looked back to poke her tongue out at him, and caught the next one on her ear.

"Ow!" she shrieked. "That's cold!"

"I know." He caught up to her and used his green and silver muffler to dry her ear. "Hold still."

"This snow is slippery."

"I know, but if you keep grabbing me like that--" He stepped back, lost his balance, and they both fell over. Lily started laughing again. "We'll both go down," he finished finally. Lily howled.

"I really don't see how this is funny," he said. Lily raised her head; he looked genuinely annoyed.

"Well," she managed, "maybe it's only a little bit funny..." Then, unable to stop herself, she curled up into a ball and started laughing again. "Oh, but your face..."

He stood up, and carefully took her hand and pulled her up to join him. "We'd better find a more solid place to stand."

"Hey, I'm not the one who fell over."

"If you hadn't grabbed me..."

"I'm sorry." He looked mollified. "Oh, we're all wet."

"Well, we were rolling around in the snow," Severus pointed out. "Not to mention that someone thought it'd be funny to shove the stuff down my shirt."

"I'm really, really sorry. I just wanted to see what would happen." She sounded like Sirius, she realised, but fortunately, Severus didn't notice. He looked up at the darkening sky.

"We'd better go inside," he said. "We'll need to change before dinner."

***

With so few students, they'd been eating at the staff table. Lily found it awkward to share a table with Severus, who was avoiding eye contact. Crowley was glaring at her, and Sprout was giving her a benevolent, conspiratorial grin.

Fortunately, most of the attention was on Bertha Jorkins, a seventh year Hufflepuff who was too busy exaggerating gossip to notice the Gryffindor-Slytherin tryst under her nose. A good thing, too, Lily decided; last year, Severus had hexed her fiercely after she loudly teased him about kissing Florence Wilkes behind the greenhouses. Lily decided that she couldn't really blame him; if she'd kissed Florence, she'd deny it too. On the other hand, he'd certainly had more practice with this kissing business than she had...

Lily was distracted from her incipient jealousy when something Bertha said caught her attention.

"What's that about the Reynolds?"

Bertha turned away from her Ravenclaw companions. "Only that no one's found the Dark wizards who killed them." She lowered her voice. "They're saying it was You-Know-Who."

"The Reynolds are dead? There was nothing in the Daily Prophet..." Lily turned to Dumbledore. "Is this true?"

Dumbledore stood up. "Perhaps we should take a walk, Miss Evans."

Lily followed Dumbledore to his office, a fascinating room which she'd visited once or twice before in her capacity as a prefect.

Dumbledore sat down and indicated that Lily should do likewise. He took a deep breath and said, "The Reynolds family was indeed attacked by the followers of Lord Voldemort. Astra Reynolds was an Auror, and the Death Eaters wanted revenge for her work against them."

"And -- and the twins?"

Dumbledore's face was calm and his voice was soft, but Lily could feel intense anger radiating from his body.

"The twins and their older brother were tortured. Michael and Jane are dead. Katherine is in St. Mungo's."

"When is she coming back to school?"

"Never. She is insane."

Lily took a deep breath. "Why?" Her voice cracked. "Why did You-Know-Who torture some teenagers? And why didn't you tell us?"

"Say 'Voldemort,' Lily," said Dumbledore gently. "He wants us to fear his name. He wants to live forever in a world where everyone fears him. That's why he tortured your friends."

"Oh." Lily rubbed her hands on the arms of her chair. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"The Ministry and the Board of Governors are agreed that such information is too horrible for the ears for children."

"And adults. The Daily Prophet has almost nothing about You-Know -- about Voldemort."

"The Ministry guards its information closely. Sometimes ... sometimes, the silence is necessary. At other times, I believe that openness is a better policy." Dumbledore fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me, Miss Evans?"

Well, I've been snogging a Slytherin who's fascinated by Dark Magic, and I think that the Potions Mistress has something shady up her sleeve, and now it turns out that my best friends are dead and insane respectively...

"No, Sir," she said.

She'd thought to return to her dorm after leaving Dumbledore's office, but instead, Lily found herself outside the Slytherin common room.

"Parseltongue," she said softly. The door opened in the stone.

"Lily?"

She could make out Snape's silhouette against the flames.

"Lily? What's wrong?"

"Oh, God," she choked, and burst into tears. For a moment, Snape looked a little lost, then he put his arms around her. Lily buried her face in his thin shoulder and wished that the world would go away, be different, be better.

One thing she'd learnt as a witch was that wishes almost never came true.

to be continued...

notes and credits:

chapter title: from "Spawn" by george: "and I am trying to rediscover the wide-eyed beauty of the first glance".

Professor Spawforth was named after one of the editors of the Oxford Classical Dictionary, third edition. His co-editor was named Hornblower; it really is a funky book.

First posted April 26; edited and re-posted May 27 to clean up the narrative and bring Lily's personality into better focus. Edited again for Fiction Alley on July 22.

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