Severus doesn't move. He stares at her, dark eyes searching her green ones, the grips of potential magic not quite unhooking. He doesn't sense that she's lying or faking it and that doesn't make any sense but-- she's powerful and without deliberation in Legilimency maybe-- Merlin's sake, he's not going to do that.
His hand around his cup tenses, slowly. Nails press into synthetic ceramic uselessly. There is an air about him like a cornered animal.
That's all Lily thinks for a moment, a single no echoing over and over between her ears but she stares back at him unblinkingly, with nothing to hide save her growing sense of dread and alarm.
She sets her mug down before she spills it because she can't tell if her hands are going to start shaking, doesn't move otherwise.
He's not an idiot. He's a bloody genius, and he's a spy, and he puts it together as he watches her. That thing stuck in his chest twists and he feels something in his heart break. Severus has to look away, exhaling in a pained-sounding laugh as he does. Devoid of humor. Hurt.
It takes him a few tries to get anything out. He forces himself to pick up his mug and take a drink, not hesitating over the near-scalding water. He sets it back down carefully.
"I'm used to it." Severus enunciates his words with brittle precision to keep himself from cracking with unhelpful emotion. He's still very quiet. "My teachers... were always so impressed that I'd gotten so good at dueling multiple opponents. But none of them wanted to acknowledge why."
Lily stares down at her hands as he speaks. She inhales and it sounds ragged, exhales and it sounds worse. She's smart. She doesn't need it spelled out any further—she obviously knew about what happened before, but...
She doesn't know what to think, much less to say. But while Severus has done many things, lie to her has never been one of them and he has no reason to start now. She doesn't question what he says. Rather than stillness now she becomes a flurry of agitated motion, standing and pacing in a small circuit, her hands wringing together.
Her husband is dead. He also lied to her. She feels like maybe she is crumbling this time.
"He promised me," she says, nearly chokes on it, "swore," it's difficult to tell if she's angry or mourning or both. "He looked me in the eye—" She stops suddenly, stares at him with wide eyes just in case he's looking at her again.
"I never knew."
Edited (oh my god i'm sorry i'm tired i noticed another typo GOING TO BED NOW GOODBYE) 2014-11-05 12:36 (UTC)
Like a shadow of her, the more emotional Lily gets, the more it drains away from Severus. He sits across from her, still and blank.
Oh. He promised her. Well then. That's understandable, isn't it. James Potter, paragon of truth and justice, promised something, thus making it utterly inconceivable that he might ever go against it. The poster child for the debate of 'designated dark magic vs intent making good magic dark' promised he would stop doing something that he and his best mate were obsessed with, and Lily, brilliant witch, prefect, head girl, believed him.
Severus doesn't say anything. He stays there at his desk with his gaze cast to one side of her, silent. His options here are telling her it's fine - it's not fine - or going on about the things her husband has done, which she should have known he'd do, because James Potter is James Potter and Lily isn't a bleeding idiot. But maybe she had nothing else; maybe Severus was so awful that going to Potter and duping herself into believing that lie was easier than dealing with Severus's painful truth.
He thinks it was better before this conversation, probably.
When she finally sits again it's with the air of someone who's spent all of their energy in one fell swoop. She doesn't crumple so much as deflate, elbows on her knees and face in her hands.
She doesn't say anything for a long time. There's very little she can say.
The whole point had been of course that James had changed, that he had become something different, and she'd believed him. Believed him because it was what she needed, in the wake of Severus being unable to change then, in the remains of ripping out a piece of herself to split from him. She feels dull and stupid in the wake of it, and sharply conscious of everything it means.
I would never she begins to think but doesn't express because what good would it do now, after everything.
"I was so stupid," she mutters finally, more to herself than anything: stupid for thinking he'd change, stupid for the mistakes that led to their deaths, stupid, stupid, stupid.
Blind, maybe.
She laughs quietly, bitter and mirthless, without lifting her head. She doesn't know what else to say.
"You didn't have a multitude of choices. I didn't help."
Blunt. Still quiet, but blunt. Severus understands reality even if he hates it; people by nature are hypocritical and capable of contrary emotional multitasking and Severus is no different. He's been hurt terribly by the things Lily has done and not done, but he understands why it's all happened the way it has, and even if he's hurt he doesn't blame her or think she wasn't entitled to make the choices she did. His feelings aren't her responsibility.
None of them had many choices, in the scheme of things.
Lily sits up a little more, finally lifts her face from her hands. She doesn't look calm because who would after something like this, but a little more like she isn't about to lose it entirely. Understanding doesn't make things better.
She breathes in and out slowly, uses both hands to push her mussed hair out of her face. Closes her eyes, tips her head back before she settles again. "It doesn't fix things but at least I know now."
There's no excuse for a lot of things people did on both sides. Nothing will ever be idyllic again like when they were children. "I meant what I said before. About being happy to have this time here even when things go wrong."
With you she doesn't say. It's not an abrupt change of tone like it might seem: all sentiment aside, all the care she has for him (in spades) aside, he's the only one to tell her this truth.
"I know better than to expect things to be perfect, but I want us to be a part of one another's lives."
Severus looks at her and believes her, and that's clear in the way he stares. Words fail him; who would know what to say, here. Hell if he has any idea. He loves Lily like nothing else. She's the only person he's ever felt truly accepted by, and he didn't realize it until it was too late. Of course he'll accept whatever he can get from her, even if it's breadcrumbs.
Something bothers him, though. It starts as a tiny bubble of a thought, not even fully formed, but it won't leave him alone.
"Why did..." no, that's not right. Severus tilts his head, trying to sort out his phrasing. "Under what circumstances would he even need to make that kind of promise?"
What in the fuck was she trading on, for something like that to come up.
"I—" Lily falters briefly then, looking away to try and gather her thoughts. She isn't ashamed of the ultimatum she'd given James, but she isn't sure how to word it so that it doesn't sound worse.
"I made him."
Plainly, and she follows it up with: "I made him promise to leave you alone before I would entertain the idea of spending any time with him."
So she'd bartered with herself, essentially, after they had stopped having contact. A more hands-off approach maybe, than before.
For a little while it seems like Severus hasn't heard Lily. He carries on staring at her as though she hadn't said anything, like maybe her answer is so ludicrous or painful that he's incapable of even hearing it, much less processing it. As it does sink in - her words, the way she looks away, her voice, the implication on her whole life and her baby - Severus's eyes change, black going darker, tension flinching over his eyes and brow like frost snapping into place.
It's small. But it's there.
And now it's his turn to stand up. Severus doesn't pace but once, twice, waiting with one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth, turned away from Lily. Like his honest reaction might hurt her by accident, that even if James is the target she might be stuck in the crossfire or emotional blast zone simply because Severus is here, feeling, breathing.
She hasn't cried not because James being six months dead has softened the blow. The idea that learning everything was based off of that initial lie that he'd charmed her with could be softened by half a year is absurd.
She hasn't cried because some part of her doesn't want to cry in front of anyone at all.
She also does not flinch or shy away from Severus' reaction, the sharpness of him. She isn't afraid of him: she never was. But now he's turned away and she dips her head again, hand covering her mouth to stifle the stutter of her breath. She doesn't let out a sob, but maybe it's worse that she's quiet when the dam breaks.
Is it his fault? Everything else is, either in truth or from a certain point of view. If Severus hadn't been the way he was, Lily would never have been left with that as her only way out of being alone. He knows what that feels like-- but Merlin, it burns something awful inside of him, thinking about Albus sitting there with his gentle eyes telling him that if Lily saw the good in James that Severus needed to accept it. But she didn't, she just saw lies.
He doesn't know how he could have been different. The world was so harsh and he felt so small.
Lily doesn't have to make any noise. Severus turns after a while, tension in the air between them a living thing. He goes to his knees at her side and pulls her into an embrace he'd never dare with anyone else, and might not even with her at any other time. He feels dizzy with the strength of his emotions; anger and grief and all else. He doesn't know if he's trying to comfort her or make himself feel better, or if he has the capacity to think straight at all.
Lily doesn't know how to feel at all. Everything she'd known has gotten ripped out from under her and she's left reeling, drowning in something and trying to claw her way out before she's consumed by it.
The embrace doesn't surprise her but it twists something inside her and now she does choke on a sob, arms all but flinging around him. Her face buries in his shoulder long enough for her to try and compose herself but it doesn't work very well: she doesn't move for a very long time, doesn't speak until she feels hollowed out and empty.
Still, the first thing she says is "don't be sorry," followed shortly by, "I wanted you to be safe." That part at least, remains the same.
This sort of physical connectivity still feels unnatural to Severus, but for right now, all he wants to do is cling to Lily like he can protect her, fix everything, like maybe they might both drift away into some unknown darkness if they aren't holding onto each other. He's never felt this particular terror before, twisting his insides, everything cold. His mistakes press into his lungs, making him feel like he's moments from suffocating.
Severus shakes his head, not trusting his voice just yet. He knows she tried, but she shouldn't have bargained herself-- she shouldn't have had to, he shouldn't have left her backed into that corner.
It's been so long, just like it had been so long since they'd held hands like children, that she doesn't want to move. She wants to stay like this, to pretend like nothing had ever happened, like she isn't trying to even out her breathing after losing it in front of her oldest friend.
They've both made mistakes.
She doesn't speak again after he shakes his head: just stays like that, quietly, though she sinks down slightly so they're on a more even level, her head never quite leaving his shoulder. There's nothing she can say now, so she doesn't. Just breathes.
Severus is powerless to do anything. James is already dead. Lily is already dead. He can't pick out a time-turner and go back and fix it all. His guilt over being the messenger of her death is tied up in a hundred other things, no small number of them flinging hatred and blame at Potter. This makes it easier, but it also makes him even more sad. He was never good enough for Lily and he never managed to protect her, but at least he never lied about it.
(Severus has to force himself to stop thinking about it to forestall a memory overtaking him: Albus, sitting across from him, his voice weary but frightening. If the prophecy had never been handed over, then Voldemort would still be alive...)
Nothing to do but sit on the floor of his office and hold her. In time they'll have to get up and move on, but for now, it's just them.
At some point she sits level to him, on the floor, not caring and not thinking about anything at all. She's angry, and distraught, and exhausted. There is nothing left for her at home, and all she has left is here.
Here, where her fingers curl at his collar, clutching the fabric in her fingers at the back of his neck.
(Part of her thinks about James, wonders if a part of him ever did change for her. It tightens her chest and she screws her eyes shut, keeps her mind blank as possible instead.)
Eventually she'll get up to leave, linger in the door, then go to think alone instead of going back to Medical. For now, this is enough.
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His hand around his cup tenses, slowly. Nails press into synthetic ceramic uselessly. There is an air about him like a cornered animal.
Finally, barely above a whisper,
"Is this a joke?"
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That's all Lily thinks for a moment, a single no echoing over and over between her ears but she stares back at him unblinkingly, with nothing to hide save her growing sense of dread and alarm.
She sets her mug down before she spills it because she can't tell if her hands are going to start shaking, doesn't move otherwise.
"I would never."
And it's true.
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It takes him a few tries to get anything out. He forces himself to pick up his mug and take a drink, not hesitating over the near-scalding water. He sets it back down carefully.
"I'm used to it." Severus enunciates his words with brittle precision to keep himself from cracking with unhelpful emotion. He's still very quiet. "My teachers... were always so impressed that I'd gotten so good at dueling multiple opponents. But none of them wanted to acknowledge why."
Slytherin student. Who cares.
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She doesn't know what to think, much less to say. But while Severus has done many things, lie to her has never been one of them and he has no reason to start now. She doesn't question what he says. Rather than stillness now she becomes a flurry of agitated motion, standing and pacing in a small circuit, her hands wringing together.
Her husband is dead. He also lied to her. She feels like maybe she is crumbling this time.
"He promised me," she says, nearly chokes on it, "swore," it's difficult to tell if she's angry or mourning or both. "He looked me in the eye—" She stops suddenly, stares at him with wide eyes just in case he's looking at her again.
"I never knew."
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Oh. He promised her. Well then. That's understandable, isn't it. James Potter, paragon of truth and justice, promised something, thus making it utterly inconceivable that he might ever go against it. The poster child for the debate of 'designated dark magic vs intent making good magic dark' promised he would stop doing something that he and his best mate were obsessed with, and Lily, brilliant witch, prefect, head girl, believed him.
Severus doesn't say anything. He stays there at his desk with his gaze cast to one side of her, silent. His options here are telling her it's fine - it's not fine - or going on about the things her husband has done, which she should have known he'd do, because James Potter is James Potter and Lily isn't a bleeding idiot. But maybe she had nothing else; maybe Severus was so awful that going to Potter and duping herself into believing that lie was easier than dealing with Severus's painful truth.
He thinks it was better before this conversation, probably.
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When she finally sits again it's with the air of someone who's spent all of their energy in one fell swoop. She doesn't crumple so much as deflate, elbows on her knees and face in her hands.
She doesn't say anything for a long time. There's very little she can say.
The whole point had been of course that James had changed, that he had become something different, and she'd believed him. Believed him because it was what she needed, in the wake of Severus being unable to change then, in the remains of ripping out a piece of herself to split from him. She feels dull and stupid in the wake of it, and sharply conscious of everything it means.
I would never she begins to think but doesn't express because what good would it do now, after everything.
"I was so stupid," she mutters finally, more to herself than anything: stupid for thinking he'd change, stupid for the mistakes that led to their deaths, stupid, stupid, stupid.
Blind, maybe.
She laughs quietly, bitter and mirthless, without lifting her head. She doesn't know what else to say.
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Blunt. Still quiet, but blunt. Severus understands reality even if he hates it; people by nature are hypocritical and capable of contrary emotional multitasking and Severus is no different. He's been hurt terribly by the things Lily has done and not done, but he understands why it's all happened the way it has, and even if he's hurt he doesn't blame her or think she wasn't entitled to make the choices she did. His feelings aren't her responsibility.
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Lily sits up a little more, finally lifts her face from her hands. She doesn't look calm because who would after something like this, but a little more like she isn't about to lose it entirely. Understanding doesn't make things better.
She breathes in and out slowly, uses both hands to push her mussed hair out of her face. Closes her eyes, tips her head back before she settles again. "It doesn't fix things but at least I know now."
There's no excuse for a lot of things people did on both sides. Nothing will ever be idyllic again like when they were children. "I meant what I said before. About being happy to have this time here even when things go wrong."
With you she doesn't say. It's not an abrupt change of tone like it might seem: all sentiment aside, all the care she has for him (in spades) aside, he's the only one to tell her this truth.
"I know better than to expect things to be perfect, but I want us to be a part of one another's lives."
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Something bothers him, though. It starts as a tiny bubble of a thought, not even fully formed, but it won't leave him alone.
"Why did..." no, that's not right. Severus tilts his head, trying to sort out his phrasing. "Under what circumstances would he even need to make that kind of promise?"
What in the fuck was she trading on, for something like that to come up.
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"I made him."
Plainly, and she follows it up with: "I made him promise to leave you alone before I would entertain the idea of spending any time with him."
So she'd bartered with herself, essentially, after they had stopped having contact. A more hands-off approach maybe, than before.
And James lied to her about it.
Cool.
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It's small. But it's there.
And now it's his turn to stand up. Severus doesn't pace but once, twice, waiting with one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth, turned away from Lily. Like his honest reaction might hurt her by accident, that even if James is the target she might be stuck in the crossfire or emotional blast zone simply because Severus is here, feeling, breathing.
He is so angry.
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She hasn't cried not because James being six months dead has softened the blow. The idea that learning everything was based off of that initial lie that he'd charmed her with could be softened by half a year is absurd.
She hasn't cried because some part of her doesn't want to cry in front of anyone at all.
She also does not flinch or shy away from Severus' reaction, the sharpness of him. She isn't afraid of him: she never was. But now he's turned away and she dips her head again, hand covering her mouth to stifle the stutter of her breath. She doesn't let out a sob, but maybe it's worse that she's quiet when the dam breaks.
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He doesn't know how he could have been different. The world was so harsh and he felt so small.
Lily doesn't have to make any noise. Severus turns after a while, tension in the air between them a living thing. He goes to his knees at her side and pulls her into an embrace he'd never dare with anyone else, and might not even with her at any other time. He feels dizzy with the strength of his emotions; anger and grief and all else. He doesn't know if he's trying to comfort her or make himself feel better, or if he has the capacity to think straight at all.
"I'm sorry."
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The embrace doesn't surprise her but it twists something inside her and now she does choke on a sob, arms all but flinging around him. Her face buries in his shoulder long enough for her to try and compose herself but it doesn't work very well: she doesn't move for a very long time, doesn't speak until she feels hollowed out and empty.
Still, the first thing she says is "don't be sorry," followed shortly by, "I wanted you to be safe." That part at least, remains the same.
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Severus shakes his head, not trusting his voice just yet. He knows she tried, but she shouldn't have bargained herself-- she shouldn't have had to, he shouldn't have left her backed into that corner.
He was never safe, but it's not her fault.
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They've both made mistakes.
She doesn't speak again after he shakes his head: just stays like that, quietly, though she sinks down slightly so they're on a more even level, her head never quite leaving his shoulder. There's nothing she can say now, so she doesn't. Just breathes.
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(Severus has to force himself to stop thinking about it to forestall a memory overtaking him: Albus, sitting across from him, his voice weary but frightening. If the prophecy had never been handed over, then Voldemort would still be alive...)
Nothing to do but sit on the floor of his office and hold her. In time they'll have to get up and move on, but for now, it's just them.
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Here, where her fingers curl at his collar, clutching the fabric in her fingers at the back of his neck.
(Part of her thinks about James, wonders if a part of him ever did change for her. It tightens her chest and she screws her eyes shut, keeps her mind blank as possible instead.)
Eventually she'll get up to leave, linger in the door, then go to think alone instead of going back to Medical. For now, this is enough.