It was match day. He noticed it as soon as he woke up, feeling the electricity in the air the moment he stepped into the common room. In his seventh year at the school, it was a familiar feeling. It was hard to believe that in such turbulent and grey times, Quidditch still had the power to lift everyone up, make them forget about everything, at least for a few hours. The only thing that mattered was who would win. That day, Slytherin wasn't playing, and yet excitement was drawn on the faces of both the younger students and the ones from the upper years.
He spotted Avery and Mulciber sprawled out on the couch and went over to join them.
"Good morning, Severus," Mulciber said when he saw him.
He called him and everyone by his first or last name randomly, without a pattern, so it was hard to understand the level of closeness you actually had with him. Snape knew he did that on purpose.
Mulciber always had a smug smile plastered on his face. He had brown hair and bluish eyes. He was pleasant to look at, with a very neat and polished air, making it hard to tell if he was genuinely attractive or just from a good family. On the other hand, Avery was a rather scrawny blond boy with watery, bulging blue eyes. Mulciber continued murmuring under his breath:
"We were just talking with Avery about taking the opportunity of this match day to skip it and discuss..."
He made a head gesture and waved his hands instead of finishing the sentence. Snape furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. His hand subtly began to fiddle with the sleeve of his robe.
"Today?" he asked, confused. "I was planning on watching the game."
Avery raised his eyebrows, and Mulciber let out a laugh.
"What? Why?" he asked loudly, astonished.
Clearly, they found it childish that he would turn down something seemingly important for a mere match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
"I like Quidditch, and I wouldn't want to miss the chance to see Gryffindor lose," he said. "We can leave it for another time, can't we?"
"I didn’t know you liked Quidditch that much, mate," Mulciber said, studying him closely.
Snape just shrugged without changing his expression.
"Yes, Wulfric, it's true, he went to plenty of matches last year," Avery confirmed.
"And look how it turned out for you, Snape," Mulciber said. "Potter as champion... maybe you jinx it."
Both Avery and Mulciber laughed a bit too loudly, and Snape pressed his lips together without looking at them. But soon after, Mulciber threw his arm around him and gave him a few friendly pats.
"Alright, alright, we all have our quirks and there's no rush... I never took you for a sports fan, Severus. Always so quiet and meticulous, but I suppose people surprise us."
"Do you want to come?" Snape offered.
"I’m in," Avery, who really didn’t like missing any matches, jumped in immediately.
"What are we going to do?" Mulciber resigned himself, spreading his hands. Then he added in a raspy whisper, "But listen, what we need to talk about is important, you hear me? You can’t mess this up. We’ll give you an audience with... You Know Who."
That made Snape stop in his tracks, absorbing the words for a few seconds.
"An audience? With me?" he asked, incredulous.
Mulciber stretched out on the couch with a yawn.
"We spoke highly of you... explained your talents, what you did for us this summer," he said, once again with that smug smile, watching his fellow Slytherin react to his words. "The Dark Lord is very interested in you."
Snape felt a wave of satisfaction fill his chest at that unexpected recognition. After so many years working with the Dark Arts, his efforts were finally paying off. At last, everything he knew had a purpose; finally, someone appreciated what he had learned. He couldn't help but let a thin smile escape.
"Yes, mate," Mulciber said, noticing the change. "You deserve it, but we have to prepare well, you understand? It’s the most important thing you’ll do in your sad little life."
Snape’s face returned to its usual impassive expression, and he nodded, without turning back to look at his housemate.
"After the game," he repeated.
Mulciber's smile became wider.
"Yeah, right, priorities first," he said theatrically.
It was mid-morning when the stands began to fill up. Snape had sat where he always did and his two housemates had followed him without realising that it was a spot carefully chosen. When Snape felt the cold, wooden seat, he relaxed. He had been waiting for that moment since the end of the previous school year. He fixed his gaze on the Gryffindor tower and began to wait, letting his companions chat away.
“How’s it looking this year?” Mulciber said in a sigh.
“Potter still has a really good team, mainly because... well, because he’s on it. But Ravenclaw has a new Seeker this year who seems to be quite a revelation. We’ll see today, but they’re well positioned to beat them, depending on what line-up Potter puts out.” Avery hurried to explain, clearly pleased to be able to attend the match.
Snape was oblivious to everything happening around him in the stands, and when he finally spotted the unmistakable red hair, he caught his breath. There she was—Lily Evans, dressed discreetly in Gryffindor colours: the scarf, the gloves, looking for a seat with her friends Mary and Dorcas. Once she found it, she wrapped herself in her cloak, as the October morning air had started to chill, and her cheeks had turned rosy.
Since Snape and Lily had stopped speaking, he had made every attempt to rebuild a connection with her to no avail. It seemed that Lily had taken a path with no return, farther and farther away from him. They no longer shared the train, the summers, the meals, the laughs, or the secrets. That hole was the deepest absence Snape had ever felt in his life.
Every approach he made ended in disaster, and over time, he had learned to leave her alone. He missed her from a distance, in silence. The only time he could look at her without her noticing and giving him a cold look was during these Quidditch matches, where he was far enough to not draw attention, but close enough to watch her freely. Then, he could, without worry, trace her lips with his eyes, witness her explosive laughter, watch her celebrating goals, biting her nails, sometimes shouting in frustration. For Snape, these had become the best days of the month. It was as if, in some strange way, he was close to her again. Though Snape was aware that this wasn’t very healthy, the relief he felt from watching her for an extended time and the refuge of the fact that no one knew made it impossible for him to give up the self-indulgent habit.
He hadn’t been able to look at his old friend ever since the year started and he took the time to study her meticulously. He couldn’t help but notice that Lily had returned this year from her summer vacation looking different, more mature. Her hair had grown an inch longer since the previous year, and she had painted her lips a soft red, which contrasted with the bright white smile that burst out every once in a while unexpectedly. He realised that she no longer looked like a child in any way; her beauty was now so obvious and so feminine that it added up to the increased distance between them. Though he still recognised by heart the same expressions she had had as a child, the air, the strength, and the delicacy with which she now carried herself were completely different. She was a woman.
A deafening roar filled the atmosphere. The players took to the pitch, flying on their brooms, and Snape was momentarily distracted, watching the red and blue teams soaring into the sky.
"Look, there's Potter," Avery pointed out in awe, nodding towards the boy with messy jet-black hair, flying with more style than anyone else.
Snape shot him a disdainful glance. Even some of his fellow Slytherins seemed to admire that conceited idiot, James Potter.
"He's good, the bastard," Mulciber confirmed, as Snape rolled his eyes. "Shame he's got that obsession with defending mudbloods, considering he comes from such a good family."
"He’d be a great addition to our ranks," Avery agreed.
"Yeah, he'd probably march right up to the Dark Lord and start giving him lessons, proving he's better than everyone else," Snape muttered.
Mulciber chuckled.
"And besides, he's Dumbledore's lapdog. He can’t think for himself, only follows what the old man says," Snape added, dripping with venom.
Mulciber sighed. "Yeah, and he's best mates with that blood-traitor Black. Two rotten apples," he sneered. "But it seems Dumbledore’s rewarding his loyalty – they've made him Head Boy alongside that mudblood, Lily Evans, this year..."
Snape quickly looked away into an undefined spot.
"Are those two... you know... together?" Avery asked.
"No idea, but I don’t think so," Mulciber chimed in. "I think there was a point he took a fancy on her, but she turned him down… and good on the mudblood for it. These so-called tolerant wizard families always act like we’re all the same, like they’ll mix with Muggles and mudbloods. But when it comes down to it, they always end up with someone from a proper wizarding family. I understand the impulse, not that I’d ever lower myself to that, though Evans is quite fit, not going to lie… If I didn’t have any self-respect, I might have taken a go at her, but she probably wouldn’t want to be treated like a who…”
“They’re not allowed to date, right, being Head Boy and Girl?” Snape interrupted, his voice tight. “It’s against the rules…”
Mulciber shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.”
The conversation ended there, but Snape was left more unsettled than he would have liked, especially on a day he’d been looking forward to with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. He focused back on Lily, who was watching the match intently. There was definitely something different about her today, besides her looks. She wasn’t chatting with her friends as much as usual; in fact, they seemed to be talking more amongst themselves while Lily quietly sat next to them. But her eyes sparkled, and there was a faint smile playing on her lips. It was a look he didn’t think he had ever seen before, and her green eyes were more intense than ever. She was so beautiful. For a moment, Snape felt calm as he watched her, completely uninterested in the Quidditch match unfolding around him. His old friend seemed captivated, though she celebrated the goals with a bit more restraint than usual. It was as if she had suddenly become shy.
He racked his brain, trying to remember if he had ever seen her eyes shine like that before or if it was just the effect of being in awe after not seeing her for so long. He made a list on his mind: that first year at Hogwarts, when she’d dragged him outside to see the first snow of the year, or the day she got an Outstanding in Potions on her OWL, or when she’d play that song she loved and danced around the room... Her eyes had sparkled then, too, yes. But something was different now. He narrowed his glance.
Suddenly, it occurred to him to follow the direction of her gaze. It certainly looked more intentional than vague and he knew very well she had limited knowledge of Quidditch and she more often than not struggled to follow the games. Snape had always believed she only liked Quidditch days routine and being part of something and was completely uninterested in the dynamics and the technicisms of the wizard’s favorite sport.
No. She had to be looking at something in particular. He tried to spot whatever it was trying to look right there and scanned the field. His blood turned to ice when he saw James Potter on his broom, Quaffle in hand, sweaty and focused. Snape blinked and rubbed his eyes, convinced he must have imagined it. No, that couldn’t be it. He must have got it wrong.
But when he looked again, following her gaze once more, and then again, and even once more, his worst fears were confirmed. His heart sank.
Just then, Potter scored through the middle hoop. The crowd went wild. His mouth was dry.
"Ten points to Gryffindor!" the commentator announced, but Snape heard it as if it was shouted from miles away.
Potter did a lap around the pitch, and just as Snape had his eyes on Lily, Lily had hers on the Gryffindor captain. At one point, when the noise had calmed down and Ravenclaw was starting to play the Quaffle again, Potter stopped his broom, glanced discreetly at Lily, and gave her a shy smile. She responded by biting her lip, trying to suppress the wide grin spreading across her face.
Snape had seen enough.
He stood abruptly, and his friends looked at him in confusion.
“I’m leaving,” he announced.
Mulciber looked baffled. “Where?”
“I’ve just remembered some work I need to do. Besides, Gryffindor’s going to win, and I don’t want to watch it,” he said curtly.
Avery and Mulciber made way for him as he stormed off, exchanging puzzled glances. But Snape didn’t look back. He rushed down the Quidditch stands and made his way toward the castle.
His mind was racing, and the tight knot in his throat was the only thing holding him together. He felt like if it weren’t for that, he’d fall apart right there.
As he came back to himself a bit, his thoughts began to whirl uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop replaying moments in his mind – times when Lily had mocked Potter with him, when they’d criticised him together, imitating his arrogant behaviour.
But that had been so long ago, he thought bitterly.
Despite her swearing up and down that she found James Potter to be an insufferable idiot, Snape had suspected for years now. He’d noticed Lily blush in class when Potter would toss her some sickening compliment, and when she defended with a bit of admiration in her voice the arrogant toerag after Potter had saved Snape’s life from Black’s deadly prank. He’d seen how the playful scorn she once felt for Potter began to fade as soon as they hit adolescence and Potter grew taller and shaped up. He became the star of the Quidditch team, and everyone seemed to fall under his spell. Though Lily had seemed immune to his charms, Snape had seen her laugh on occasion at some of Potter’s jokes when she thought no one was watching or engage in a playful back and forth with him in the corridors. When he had confronted her with his fears, she’d told him he was paranoid. She had deceived him in the worst way.
His blood boiled with rage. He felt utterly betrayed, and he hated her with every fibre of his being. How could this be happening? There was no doubt in his mind. He knew his friend, knew her expressions. If he hadn’t been so entranced by watching her, he would have realised much sooner. When did it happen? Over the summer? Last year? But last year, she was with that other boy, wasn’t she? Did something happen during the end-of-term celebrations? When? When was it? At what point did Lily go from finding Potter insufferable to watching him starry-eyed on the Quidditch pitch?
None of this was doing Snape any good, but he felt he’d get some strange sense of closure if he could just answer all these questions that were burning inside of him.
He didn’t know how long he wandered before he realised that the morning had gone by, and he still had nothing to calm him down. He hadn’t even noticed that everyone had returned to the castle until, lost in thought, he bumped into someone.
The collision snapped him out of his daze.
"Sorry," a familiar voice said, and he looked up to see Lily standing right in front of him.
He didn’t say anything, and when she realised it was him, her expression turned cold.
“Oh,” she hurriedly gathered her things that had fallen on the floor.
Blinded by anger, Snape couldn’t help himself.
“So, you’re with Potter now, are you?” he sneered.
“What?” she said, taken aback.
“Oh, don’t play dumb. It’s obvious.”
Lily blushed crimson red, and before she could stop herself, she let out a self-incriminating, “How did you know?”
The words hit him like a dagger. His face twisted with rage.
“It was bound to happen eventually. You’re just Potter’s plaything now, aren’t you? The one he’ll mess around with until he finds someone more suitable – someone with pure blood.”
Lily’s anger flared as she found clarity in the heat of the moment.
“It’s none of your business what I do or who I see.”
“Oh, come off it. The whole school’s talking about it,” he lied, his tongue filled with venom. “I thought you were smarter than to fall for James Potter.”
Lily’s voice shook with anger.
“Oh, Severus, how thoughtful of you to worry about my well-being… Is that before or after you join a group whose goal is to wipe out people like me and those I care about?”
Snape stammered, and Lily pressed on, her voice rising.
“Don’t pretend you have the right to tell me who I should or shouldn’t be with. You don’t give a damn about me.”
“That’s not true.” His dark eyes looked at her intensely, but she didn’t hesitate.
“Of course it is, because you wouldn’t be where you are if you cared in the slightest.”
“James Potter’s just using you. He’s a spoiled little brat who always gets what he wants. Now that he’s got you, he’ll lose interest in no time. I can’t believe you’ve fallen for that”.
Lily suddenly laughed and Snape shivered.
“Merlin, I think you care much more about James Potter than me.”
“He plays the rebel, but as soon as things get serious, he can jump ship because he’s got a safety net. You’ll be left stranded.”
“And how did you leave me?”
Snape fell silent. He wanted to respond, he wanted to say that he hadn’t left her, that he had just made a mistake and she hadn’t spared him, but the words wouldn’t come out. Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she spoke calmly.
“Look, I don’t want to talk to you. I made a mistake. I don’t care what you think, I don’t care if I get my heart broken by James Potter. This has nothing to do with this. We’ve got nothing else to say to each other.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Snape called after her.
Lily half-turned and said in a flat voice, “Give my regards to your boss when you see him”.
Snape was left there and watched her red hair walk away from him one last time.
In the corridors, cheery people with red and yellow flags were walking by. Gryffindor had won the match.