The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Additional Disclaimer: I do not own anything; the title belongs to Brand New, as found as the title of their song on the album Deja Entendu.

Author's Notes: This fic is dedicated to Alana, who has always fed my love of writing, whether it be original or Harry Potter related. I love you, my love!

Severus Snape strode swiftly down the darkened, moonlit charms corridor, spurred onward by a suffocating sense of urgency. His feet pounded the ground relentlessly, and the audio of his footfalls filled the passage with racket, ricocheting loudly off the merciless stone walls. If he didn't soon abandon speed for stealth, he was likely to be caught by Filch, and subsequently punished--but at this point he was apathetic to possibility of detention. All that mattered was finding her.

As this conviction flickered to fruition in his mind, he rounded a corner, at last catching a glimpse of the creature he was pursuing. A flash of fiery, telltale red vanished around a bend in the distance, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch of apprehension. He broke into a run, and, slaughtering all pretenses of discretion, he shouted down the hallway.

"Wait," he cried. "Lily! WAIT!"

Wait! Wait! Wait! His own voice echoed off the high ceilings, mocking him, making him acutely aware of the pathetic, desperate quality of his words. A deep, terrible loathing swelled inside of him, like a badly concocted potion that was threatening to overflow. Yet, strangely, this hatred was not directed at the girl who was so adroitly evading him, cruelly ignoring his pleading cries. It was directed at himself.

How could he have been so imbecilic? So foolish, so stupid, so idiotic? It seemed like eons ago, but the events that had led to this disaster had only transpired that afternoon. The memories that ran through his head felt as though they had hailed from someone else's life: Potter orchestrating his public humiliation; a crowd jeering and laughing at him; Sirius Black, the blood traitor, observing the degradation with a malevolent glint in his dark eyes. At that recollection, a new white-hot flash of rage sliced through Snape, a sense of abhorrence that was quite unrelated to his own self-loathing. But that brief spark of fury was short-lived as he recalled what had followed.

He had called her a mudblood. A mudblood. His cheeks burned in shame as the word wrote itself on the walls of his mind. He had no qualms with the word itself; indeed, its use was entirely permissible, say for someone like Dirk Cresswell, or Mary Cattermole. But to employ it to describe Lily, his best friend, his rock, his reason for existing... well, that was utterly unforgiveable.

Yet forgiveness was what he was seeking. His legs carried him after her, refusing to yield their chase. He was drawing closer now... he could make out the individual curls on her head, cascading down her perfectly sculpted shoulders; the haughty, overconfident sway of her hips that he was sure she wasn't even aware of herself... closer... closer...

His white hand shot out, grabbing her by the shoulder to spin her around, but the movement was unnecessary. She whipped around of her own accord, wincing horribly at his touch, as if he was something filthy, something repulsive that she couldn't even bear to look at. A stab of misery sank brutally into his gut; how had things gone so terribly awry?

"Stop following me Severus," she hissed vehemently. Her vibrant green eyes were alive with a burning, blistering rage. She gave him a disdainful glance, and then continued to walk briskly in the other direction, neglecting to look back.

"Lily," he panted, dashing to catch up; he eventually fell in step beside her, but she was rigid, refusing to meet his eyes. "Lily, stop! Please! I want to apologize!"

She halted so abruptly that he had automatically continued to move forward, placing him ahead of her. He turned to face her, hoping that the fact she had stopped meant she was ready to listen; but he suffered disappointment.

"I'm not interested in your apology," she spat. "You see, Severus, for an apology to be valid, you have to actually mean it!" Her voice, uncontrolled in her anger, rose with her last words and inadvertently caused her to shriek. Realizing this, she lowered her volume with her next sentence, saying, "And we both know you won't mean what you say. So do not waste my time, and save your worthless breath for someone who cares."

He felt like a thousand pieces of glass were biting into his flesh, hurling his entire being into despair. She stood there for a second, glaring defiantly at him. His throat felt clogged, obstructed, and he found he could not speak. He opened his mouth, but the words he wished to say were not coming out. Deciding that she was not going to wait for a reply that she likely did not want to hear anyway, she pushed brusquely past him, traveling onward.

With her forceful, unfeeling shove, a new feeling sparked to life inside his heart: resentment. Yes, he had made a horrible mistake. But hadn't he sacrificed too? Hadn't he been her friend for years and years, since they were young? Who had held her while she sobbed because her sister, in her jealously, had called her a freak? Who had been by her side, helping her study for her Potions O.W.L. all year? Who had suppressed his feelings for her, pretended they didn't exist, simply because he did not want to place that sort of burden on her?

Snape, without thinking, was behind her in an instant, snatching her roughly by the shoulders and slamming her into the stone wall. She cried out in pain, but in his newfound rage even that was not enough to deter him.

"What do you mean, I won't mean it?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. For the first time ever, Lily actually looked frightened. But nonetheless, she answered him without wavering, her voice strong and clear as always.

"You'll say sorry Severus, but you'll continue to use that filthy word despite your atonement to me! You can't pretend you won't, I heard you call Dirk one just last week in Transfiguration, and you called Sirius a despicable blood-traitor in--"

"Because Black is an insufferably supercilious idiot who decided that an ideal way to give his mates a laugh would be to steal my potions book," he retorted sleekly, his voice becoming even smoother as he grew more incensed. "But I still see you talking to him, so perhaps I should resort to thievery rather than name calling..."

His grip, though he had not noticed, had been growing steadily tighter. Unintentionally, due to his attempt to prevent her from leaving, he had drawn closer, and his body was pressed against hers; her breasts were almost touching his chest. His eyes trailed down her porcelain face, tracing the shadow of her collarbone; unable to stop himself, his gaze roamed lower--but he caught himself, and flicked his gaze upwards to peer into her emerald eyes once more.

He saw a glimmer of some emotion there, but its meaning was hidden in her irises. Was she repulsed by his obvious attraction to her? Was she sickened at the thought of being with him, at touching his skin? Hot, boiling acid spattered the walls of his stomach, making him ill with fury.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Snape," she said viciously, using his last name, alienating him from her and ruining what miniscule illusion of amity that was left. "Let me go."

"No."

His voice sounded strange, not like himself. He was torn between loathing and longing, thoroughly divided in half. Did he want to yell at her, shake some logic into that pretty head, or did he want to kiss her?

He could do it, if he wanted. If he could just summon some courage, some bravery, he could lean in, close the few inches between them and their lips would meet, and perhaps anger would dissolve into passion, wrath into lust...

"What did you say?" she asked, astonished--for since when had he ever refused a request that had fallen from her lips?

"I said, no," he repeated, his voice a dangerous quiet. She struggled, but he shoved her back into the wall. She laughed without mirth, and then, with a strength that he didn't know she possessed, heaved him off of her form, grabbed her wand, and shouted, "Protego!"

Snape was blasted backwards onto the ground, skidding several feet before he stopped. Without hesitating, he leapt to his feet again; but now, due to her shield charm, it was impossible to reach Lily. She stood feet away, panting, staring at him with a look of mingled fear, anger, and shock. His gaze locked with hers, and he was overwhelmed, overwhelmed with panic. He had made a mistake again; if possible, an even more egregious error than his earlier blunder.

The sound of hurried footsteps rocketed down the neighboring corridor, and Snape's stomach dropped. Filch would be rounding the corner any second now, a look of glee on his face as he saw the two of them standing there, clearly out of bounds... He tensed, waiting for it...

But it was not Filch. It wasn't even a professor, or another authority figure.

It was Potter.

Snape was plagued with detestation as he laid eyes upon the boy, his hair ruffled lightly as though he had just jumped off a broom after winning the Quidditch Cup. He was going to go mad with hatred if he had to converse with the Potter boy after what had happened today, it was likely that he would curse everything in sight...

James trotted over to the pair, stopping short as he collided with Lily's shield charm. Confusion seeped into his facial muscles, and his eyes darted between the two of them suspiciously. Snape felt something wet on his bottom lip, and raised a trembling hand to the liquid. His palm came away stained red; it was blood.

"Hey--I--what's going on, Evans?" he asked, speaking directly to her as if Snape did not exist, though he was casting distrustful glances in his direction. Lily whirled on James in an instant.

"It's none of your business, Potter," she spat.

"Has he been bothering you?" asked James threateningly, giving Snape a menacing scowl. Lily laughed humorlessly.

"Even if he was, I certainly do not need help from a conceited arse like you!" she retorted. Then, with one last disparaging look at Snape, she declared, "I'm leaving."

She turned on her heel, striding in the opposite direction, back the way she had came. James gave Snape a dirty, accusing glare, as if it was somehow all his fault, and then proceeded to dash after Lily, calling, "Evans, I wanted to say I was sorry for earlier today!"

Lily's shriek carried down the corridor, filtering into Snape's ears.

"I don't care! I don't want to hear it! Leave me alone!"

Now it was Potter's turn to run after her, to echo her footsteps and shower her with pleas and apologies. Snape stood numbly, rooted to the spot, shock infiltrating his system. How had everything been so completely ruined in one day? When he had awoken this morning, everything had been mundane and normal, the sun had been shining. How he craved that normalcy and sunshine now, how he craved a world where he had not called his one true friend a mudblood, a world where she did not detest him the way she clearly did now ... Tomorrow would dawn bleak and grey; he was sure of it.

Snape turned to make his way back to his dormitory, but instead he found his feet carrying him to Gryffindor Tower. He would wait there all night if he had to; he would make her listen. As he walked, furious yells continued to reverberate in the distance. He smiled wryly, and his split lip was peppered with pain, but he did not care. He was broken, despondent, and without hope, but he was able to find tiny, minute solace in the fact that if Lily Evans hated one person more than she hated him, it would be, without a doubt, James Potter.

Please Read and Review! Part Two will be coming as soon as I can fit it in--school is rather demanding at the moment.