Snakes and Ladders

Severus stood, fidgeting. He was crowded into the small antechamber off the Great Hall with all the other first-years, waiting his turn to be Sorted. The students weren't really standing in a line, more a big mass, and he and Lily stood shoulder to shoulder -- they were almost exactly the same height.

"I'm nervous, Sev," she whispered. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," he promised her. "You're a great witch already, and you've never even had any training! You'll be fantastic." Lily's smile was all the reward Severus ever could have wanted.

"Evans, Lily!"

For just a moment, she blanched white, but she squared her shoulders, turned to Severus, and gave him a big wink before striding purposefully out into the Great Hall.

He pushed forward to see her sitting on the stool, the Hat on her head. There was a long pause, longer than any of the other first-years, and under his breath Severus whispered, to whoever might be listening, "Slytherin, Slytherin, please, let her be in Slytherin." A girl with curly blonde hair glared at him.

"Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted, and Severus couldn't help himself, he groaned. Lily put the Hat back on the stool and walked toward the Gryffindor table. She caught his eye as she walked, and her expression told him that she was sorry.

Severus was not all surprised that, when it was finally his turn to be Sorted, he was put into Slytherin, but there was less joy in it than he'd expected.

+ + +

"Stupid Macnair, says I'm not strong enough, what's THAT about?" Severus asked, kicking at the ground.

"I know, Sev, I'm sorry," Lily said. She wasn't looking at him; she was looking something up in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. It was a beautiful, crisp, sunny fall day, probably one of the last they'd have this year, and nearly all the students were outside, enjoying the weather. Severus and Lily brought their Potions essays with them, though -- both cared very much about keeping their spots as the top Potions students in their year.

Severus, however, was having a hard time focusing, in the wake of the great injustice that was being left off the Slytherin Quidditch team.

He threw himself on the ground and said, "I'm not even going to try out next year, forget it. I don't even care. Quidditch," and he tried desperately to keep the longing out of his voice, "isn't that big a deal."

"Mmhmm," Lily said, and he could tell she wasn't listening at all.

"I mean," he said, focusing on the blade of grass he was shredding, "you don't care about Quidditch at all, do you?"

"Oh, well," Lily said, finally looking up, "I do quite like Quidditch, really. But I'm really sorry, Sev, and I do think they're making some bad lineup choices in Slytherin -- going for size, not power." She smiled at him, white teeth flashing, and he let go the pieces of grass. They stuck to his sweaty palms.

Gryffindor won the cup that year, and Lily sat at the match with her friends from her House, and she even congratulated Potter on the goals he made (including the game-winning one, which, Severus thought, any idiot could have made, really).

A few Slytherins hexed the Gryffindor team the next day, at breakfast. Severus didn't hex anyone, truly, he was just standing there, and Lily said she believed him, but then she asked, "Why, Severus, didn't you stop them?"

And he couldn't answer her.

"You should stand up for what's right," Lily said.

"I'm not brave like you are," Snape said.

Lily did not laugh, or reassure him that he was brave. She looked straight into his eyes until Severus had to look away.

"I think you are," she said. "But I think you don't want to admit it."

+ + +

Snape just happened to be walking past the bathroom right off the Charms corridor, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Gryffindor had just finished Charms. He was aiming for an effortlessly casual walk, trying to swing his book at just the right angle, when he heard her voice. He darted behind a suit of armor, to listen.

"Oh, I'm going to invite Severus to Slug's Christmas party," Lily was saying. "I always do."

"I don't get it," another voice said -- Mary Macdonald. "Why Snape, Lily? What do you see in him?"

"He's my friend, Mary," Lily said. Something in her voice made Severus think she was used to -- and tired of -- giving this explanation.

"But Lil, he's in Slytherin. And he's so greasy! He wears those awful robes and he looks like he hardly bathes."

"How often Severus bathes is not my concern," Lily said, and he flushed. "He's been my friend since before I came here! He's the one who told me I was a witch."

"That was a long time ago. Besides being greasy and swotty, he's got some scary friends, girl. You want to be careful with Severus Snape."

"I am worried about that," he heard Lily say, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly, hot shame flooded his limbs.

"I've tried to talk to him about it, but he keeps avoiding the question."

"Snivellus!" a voice boomed, and Severus was shocked to see James Potter standing right there. How had he failed to notice him coming up?

Potter grabbed him by the collar, dragged him, kicking and scratching, out from behind the suit of armor.

"Eavesdropping?" he asked, a malicious grin on his face. "Not very nice, Snivellus."

Severus reacted without thinking -- his wand was out and Potter was hanging upside down in the air before he could say another word. Potter hollered, but couldn't reach for his own wand, and for once, was alone, without his stupid friends.

Lily walked out of the bathroom, Mary Macdonald following. "Severus!" Lily said. "What are you doing? Put him down!"

He let Potter drop. Potter landed on his wrist, and everyone in the hall heard it crack as it broke.

"I can't believe you!" Lily said, looking hurt and reproachful. Severus flushed, but could think of nothing to say.

"Lily," Potter asked, his voice lower and kinder than it ever was for anyone else, "will you help me get to the infirmary? I need to get this mended." He waved his wrist at her, and his grimace of pain was clearly exaggerated.

"Um, sure," she said, though Severus thought he was not imagining the slight hesitation in her voice. As they walked away, Potter turned back to smirk at him, but Lily never looked back.

Slughorn's Christmas party was four nights later, and Snape spent the duration laying on his bed, staring at the green velvet underside of the canopy. Lily had not asked him.

+ + +

It was Narcissa Malfoy who told him Lily Evans was to be married the next day, to James Potter.

"Another respectable, ancient pureblood family, drowning itself in muddy blood," Lucius said, but Narcissa pressed her lips together, and Severus thought that maybe she understood, that maybe she was sorry.

He Apparated to Godric's Hollow early in the morning, camped out beneath a tree across the road from the church, a Disillusionment Charm on him. He waited.

The wedding was in the early afternoon, and Potter looked his typical stupid self -- hair sticking up all over the place, glasses slightly askew. Black was laughing, and Severus' lip curled with hatred. His hand twitched for his wand, but he steadied himself. He was only here to watch.

He never was sure, but he thought she saw him. As she walked out of the church, arm in arm with Potter, laughing and glowing, he thought she glanced over at him, frowned slightly, as though unsure. She stared into the darkness for a long moment, and they made eye contact. Severus held her look as long as he could, but he had to break away. Even across the road, he could tell how green her eyes were.

She shook her head, sending her hair flying, and leaned into Potter. They took off on Potter's broomstick, to the cheers and whistles of their guests.

That was the last time he ever saw her alive.

+ + +

It was the same playground from childhood, the same set of swings. It was summer, and dusk, and as the sun set the fireflies came out and danced lazily through the sweet-smelling air. The river was cleaner than it had been even then, and the grass was softer than any other grass.

She was there, waiting for him, looking as she had the day he had first glimpsed her -- red and green and pink and happy. She did not look like a wife, a mother, a murder victim. She looked young, and simple, and full of promise. He was younger too, but cleaner, softer, than he had ever been in real life -- truly young, unburdened as he had never actually been, full of promise himself.

She took his hands in hers, and then there was time for all the things they both wanted to say.