The dance
“I hate James Potter,” Lily proclaimed, not for the first time this afternoon.
She was perched atop the counter of the small apothecary shop of Godric’s Hollow, extracting the pollen out of a dandelion to be used in a rheumatism remedy as she verbally poured her hatred towards Potter into the benevolent ears of the owner of the shop.
“Yesterday, he said I was well-dressed; but no in a good way, you know? In an insulting way, rather. As if it was a crime to look pretty! And then he said something like “you didn’t have to go to such lengths to please me, Evans, I’d like you as much with any or no clothes on”. The nerves! And he always calls me Evans, like I’m his mate! I’m not his mate! How did you say you’ve met him, again?”
But Severus hadn’t said anyting. He had tried, only to be interrupted several times by Lily recalling yet another reason why se hated James Potter. He opened his mouth from behind the counter and was cut short again.
“God I hate him! Did I tell you that he-“
“Lily.”
“Sorry” she grinned apologetically, but a quick glance over a shoulder assured her he was not really upset, for he smiled back, and Severus rarely smiled. Especially not today, when he had been looking gloomier than ever. “You went to the same school, right?”
“Why? What did he tell you about me?”He asked, looking up from the phials he was organizing with something akin to emergency in his voice.
“Nothing,” she grimaced, recalling the unflattering nickname Potter had used, pretending to focus her attention on a big flower bouquet in a corner of the room. “What a pretty arrangement. Did you do it?”
He snorted, not fooled by her poor attempt at changing the topic. As if anyone who knew him could mistake Severus Snape for the kind of man to arrange flowers in his free time. “You did. Last week.”
“Oh, right,” she shrugged. It was a weekly tradition, indeed; she’d walk to town and jump on his counter, and help him with whatever medicine he was working on that day. She’d chat and banter, and he would listen. Besides Dorcas and her siblings, Severus was her oldest –and only- friend. Sure, he wasn’t the funniest company and the oldest they grew, the less they had in common. But he was, in Lily’s mind, forever linked to the happy memories of a carefree childhood of gallivanting in meadows and woods, before Remus felt sick and she was deemed too old to spend her days running around with boys. Still, Severus never expected her to be prim and proper, graceful or wise. He never expected her to be anything but plain old Lily, and that was refreshing.
“Yes, I was at school with Black and Potter. Arrogant bastards. Behaved like they owned the school.”
“Oh, they were the couple of bullies you told me about in your letters?” She hadn’t paid attention at the time, caring more for the parts where he spoke of everything new he learnt at school than for the tales of childish rivalries. Now that she had faces to match the names of the boys who had plagued her friend’s teenage years, she recalled several stories of mean-spirited pranks on unsuspecting classmates and other misbehaviours. Severus started ranting about how personally he had been insulted by the Potter-Black couple. Lily stopped listening at some point, recalling the crooked smile that never failed to get on her nerves. When Severus called her name, effectively drawing her from her daydreaming, she noticed her fingers were coated in the flower’s pollen with how tight her fist has been clenched around it.
“Lily?”
“What?”
“Is it true?”
“What is true?”
“The rumours.”
“What rumours?!”
She felt more than she heard the sigh he let out. “About you and Potter.”
“What about me and Potter?!” She was invested in the conversation now, but he kept his back resolutely turned to her.
“Malfoy says you are throwing yourself at him.” There were so many things wrong in that short sentence that Lily didn’t know where to start, but she was almost choking on her own embarrassment. “Why would you listen to Malfoy? He’s a prick! When did you even talk with Malfoy?”
Severus merely shrugged. “He’s the most clever of the lot. Is he wrong, though?”
“Of course he is! We just spent the last hour agreeing that Potter was a moron, why would I… throw myself at him when I hate him?”
Severus turned to her at last, but there was something cold and harsh in his face she had never seen before. For all her love of confrontation, she had never argued with him before, and she didn’t like that. “Many women would marry someone they hate for a castle and a title.”
“is that what you think of me?”
“Why would you spend all your days there, then?”
“It’s... God, Severus!” She was shaking. She hadn’t noticed before. Lily took a breathe, and lowered her tone. “I’m just accompanying Marlene! She… she’s interested in Mr Black. We’re hoping for a proposal. That’s all.”
“Oh.” His features seemed to relax a bit,but there was something like disdain in the dark hues staring at her. “Your sister is marrying Black?!”
“Don’t speak of it,” she urged, glad they were alone in the little shop. “There’s nothing decided, but he likes her.”
Lily felt herself flinch under her friend’s unusual glare. He opened his mouth as if about to say something, but he was interrupted by the bell-door ringing, and her father imposing figure filling the space in the shop.
“Ah, Lily, my love, here you are! And hello to you Severus, I trust your mother is well? Lily, come at once, your sisters require your immediate assistance at Madam Malkins! There is to be a ball at Grimmauld in two weeks, and Marlene cannot decide between a pink dress and a blue.”
“And that’s the emergency?” Lily sighed as she grabbed her cloak. “Can I have a new dress too?”
“Nonsense,” Horace replied, leading her to the door. “You have plenty of dresses already, just change the ribbons. Come, come!”
“Wait!” She turned, biting her lower lip as she faced Severus. “Will you come to the ball?”
“Not a chance.”
As she was dragged away by her chatting father, Lily felt something heavy settle on her stomach, remembering how quickly the friendly eyes had turned to ice.
The ball was nothing like anything Lily had ever seen. The noblest families of the area paraded the halls of Grimmauld with an ease that belonged solely to rich people, mixing easily with the inhabitants of Godric’s Hollow who were dressed as finely as ever and seemed to greatly enjoy themselves. The house was dazzling, the dishes delicious, the gentlemen smart and the ladies splendid. Even the music was of excellent taste, more refined than what could usually be heard at the town parties. From the couch by the window where she sat, with Dorcas’s head on her laps and a flute of champagne in her hand, Lily could hear both the violin quartet from the ballroom and her sister’s sweet voice from the music room upstairs where Alice was entertaining a few guests by the piano.
Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. Lily sighed with ease, absentmindly listening to Dorcas chatting. She was slightly flushed from the dance, the drink and the merriment, and find the cold from the outside a welcome refreshment as she pressed a cheek against the glass she was leaning on. Mary had dragged the young Diggory to the ballroom; Remus and Mother had, some time sooner in the evening, conspired to sneak into the library where they were probably fawning over the latest edition of the encyclopaedia. Father was wining some card games, Frank Longbottom had not left Alice’s side, and Lily was slowly but surely getting drunk in a private corner with her best friend, and had managed to avoid all their unsufferable hosts; what a great night. As far as Marlene was concerned,it was clear to everyone that she was the real queen of the party. With a brand new white gown (nor the pink neither the blue one had found grace in her eyes) and her soft hair gathered atop a shoulder, she looked like some sort of pagan deity. She glowed with triumph, her arm interlinked with Black’s, who had refused to let her out of his sight. The attachment between the two was clearly obvious, for they had danced with no one but each other. Even the most determined mothers had stopped chasing the bachelor, and opted for throwing their single daughters at Potter instead.
“Have you seen Mrs Skeeter’s dress? It’s the most disgusting shade of green ever made!” Dorcas proclaimed with a wave, nearly spilling her glass of wine in the process. “Anyway, how are things between Marley and Black?”
“He certainly does like her,” Lily replied. She has tried to sound disapproving, but her joy for her sister’s sake was betrayed by a small smile.
“But does she like him?”
“Obviously she does!”
Dorcas shrugged. “It isn’t obvious to me. She’s flirting and smiling a lot, but I see no difference from her interactions to her previous beaux. I’ve known your sister all my life and I can’t tell. And if I can’t, how would Black know?”
“I’m sure he does. I have it on good authority that there had been some … shows of affections behind closed doors.”
“Well, I too kiss a few boys when Papa isn’t looking, it doesn’t mean it would follow them to the end of the world.”
Lily rolled her eyes, recalling a few tales of Dorcas’ conquests. “This is life, Dory, not a romance novel.”
“All I’m saying is, if you lot are indeed hoping for a proposal, your sister should tell him of her genuine and deep interest. A man as rich as he is has hundreds of women at his feet; he won’t choose someone only interested in his money and not him.”
“Come, Dorcas.” Lily grew tired with the topic. She stood, forcing her friend to sit. “Let’s dance.”
“No. I’m very comfortable here, thank you very much.” The brunette, slightly inebriated, laid down, settling in the warmth Lily has left.
“Dorcas, please! I want to dance!”
“Ask someone else! I’m sure Potter would be happy to oblige. Wouldn’t you, Mr Potter?”
Lily tensed, feeling the despised presence behind her before his reply confirmed it.
“You must be a witch, Miss Meadowes, for asking Miss Lily to dance was exactly my purpose in coming here.“
Lily had no choice but to turn now, bowing her head in greetings, and reluctantly noting he looked rather dashing in his dark blue coat. A fact he was well aware of, if the smug grin and wink he threw at the two girls were to be believed. Lily heard Dorcas giggle from the couch and felt very much betrayed.
“Take her, Potter, she’s all yours.”
“But will you forgive me for stealing your companion for a moment, my dearest Miss Meadowes?”
“Forgive you? I’ll thank you.”
Lily stomped her foot –a childish reflex she will later blame on the alcohol- and interrupted the aside. “I’m right here! Do I have a say on the matter?”
“You want someone to dance with, he wants to dance with you. The matter seems rather settled to me.” Dorcas declared, matter-of-factly, but Potter had already seized Lily’s hand and bowed in mock-apology.
“You are very right, and I am very sorry.” His lips grazed her knuckles, and she couldn’t tell if the sudden blush on her cheeks was due to the warmth of his breath on her skin or the way his hazel eyes looked up at her with a glint of mischief. “May I have the next dance, Miss Lily?”
A second passed, and Lily felt her heart miss a beat. She had no real excuse to refuse, after all. “You may.”
Only that could convince him to let go of her hand and he left with a bow and the smuggest, most displeasing smile on his lips.
Lily turned to her friend at his departure, dumbstruck.
“Did I just agree to dance with Mr Potter?”
“You sure did.”
“But I swore never to dance with him!” Dorcas merely took a sip of her drink, looking very much pleased with herself. “Shut up. I’ll never forgive you.” A new tune was heard starting from the ballroom. Lily took a breath, straightened, and walked to her death.
“Are you always silent when you dance, Miss Lily, or it is our proximity that troubles you so?” Lily nearly rolled her eyes, but the feeling of her mother’s attentive gaze on her prevented her to do so. If she did step on Potter’s toes, though, he couldn’t prove it wasn’t accidental.
“If you wish to speak, Sir, please do. I shall do my best to listen and pretend to be interested. “ He laughed, loud and warm, because of course every single of her attempts to destabilise him ended amusing him instead.
“I’d rather you were actually interested. Just tell me what you want me to say an I'll say it, for I’m your humble servant and live to please you.”
“Oh, is that how you make quick friends? By saying whatever people want to hear? That seems rather hypocritical to me.”
The hand that wasn’t holding hers rose to his heart as he faked a gasp and a hurt expression. “Harsh words for such a pretty mouth.”
“Now, we’ve talked enough. We’re allowed to stop.”
“Oh, but I’m not inclined to stop now, Evans. You wanted me to talk, I’ll talk.”
“I have changed my mind. Am I not allowed to?”
“Admirable. You don’t change your mind often, do you? “
“What does that mean?”
A sudden turn on the dance allowed him to slip closer and speak lower. “It means that you are stubborn, Evans. I could tell after the first minute of our acquaintance. You make up your mind about something and refuse to change it.”
“Such as?” She smiled as they trade partners for a second, refusing to let anyone see how annoyed she was.
“Such as me.” He quirked an eyebrow as she reached his side again, his hold strong and warm on her wrist. “Am I wrong to say you’ve been quick to make your negative judgment about me?”
“You’ve been quick to make a bad impression.” She snickered, gloved fingers clenching his in a less than friendly manner.
“But you would not change your mind, even if I were to show you better parts of my character.”
“I like to think I am fair in my judgment, and no parts I have seen so far has left a favourable impression.”
His fingers wrapped themselves around her waist and he drew her close, perfectly in sync with the music; but the smile he wore was not as relaxed as before. “Surely you don’t know me that well, you cannot be certain I am as bad as you think.”
“I know well enough.” The dance brought them face to face, and she all but spitted at him: “I’ve been told a great deal about you.”
He laughed again, but there was nothing left of his pleasant mask; it was harsh and cold, as dark as the look he sent her. “I’m sure you have.”
“Indeed. I’ve been told many accomplishments of your youth, which did nothing to improve my opinion.”
“I won’t ask you who told such tales, I know very well the answer.”
“You do not deny it, then.”
“How could I deny not knowing what I am accused of? What good would it be, when you seem so determined to despise me that you would easily believe any idle gossip?”
“If everything unpleasant said about you is indeed so easily believed, I think it says quite a lot about your character.” They had stopped dancing now, though she couldn’t say when exactly, and were standing face to face amidst the many couples still twirling. “I’m surprised you are not trying to defend yourself, when you seem so sure to be in the right.”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m trying to understand you, Mr Potter. I heard and saw so many negative things on your account, it is impossible to reconcile that with the positive opinions of your friends.”
“Well ask, then. I’m an open book.” Her neck was hurting by looking up at him and their faces were close, so close she felt warmth on her forehead with every angry breath he took.
“And will you answer truthfully, with a honest judgment on your own faults?”
“One thing I value above all else, Evans, is honesty. Can you say the same about your friend?”
She let out a gasp at the implication behind his words. “I have faith in Severus, and nothing you could say would convince me otherwise.”
She saw him harden, a far cry from the smug man shamelessly flirting not two minutes ago. He stared at her and whispered between gritted teeth: “You don’t know half the truth about your dear friend Snivellus.”
They were close, so much that Lily could make out a constellation of faint freckles on his cheeks and a ring of gold in his brown eyes. She felt a dark curl brush her forehead and their noses almost touch. Her mouth opened and closed, all words of protest dying on her tongue as she took in their sudden proximity. He seemed to realise it at the same moment as she, for his eyes widened a little; for a brief, stupid, crazy second, she almost thought he was going to kiss her.
He took a step back and away from her, abruptly, and she noticed the music had stopped and the couples were leaving the dance floor.
Lily closed her eyes for a second, her chest rising and falling violently with every ragged breath she sucked in. Suddenly, her corset seemed too tight, the room too warm and loud, the dozens of dancers too close to her; everything was too much, overwhelming, suffocating, she lost her balance and felt herself fell backwards and –
Two hands, strong and warm and now almost familiar after the last dance, closed around her elbows and stopped her from falling. She opened her eyes to see two pools of hazel behind round spectacles looking at her, any trace of anger now completely vanished.
“Evans, are you all right?”
Before she had to make up an excuse, they were interrupted by Mrs Skeeter –who was, indeed, wearing a truly terrible green dress. Potter promptly let her go and Lily shivered, though from the sudden lack of warmth or the arrival of the hideously dressed woman, she couldn’t tell.
“Lily, dear, I mus be the first to offer my congratulations!”
Lily frowned, only half-focused on Skeeter. She was the worst gossip of the town, well-known to make up and spread her own stories if nothing scandalous enough reached her ears. “What? Congratulations on what?”
“Your sister’s engagement to Mr Black, of course!”
Lily froze, and she could feel the man by her side freeze as well. “That’s a mistake, Mrs Skeeter. There’s no engagement.”
“Yet … But that’s all everyone talks about already! They’d make quite a fine couple indeed. And your dear Father will be so pleased! Such a rich young man … Is it not everything your family has ever wanted?” And just like that, with a sickeningly sweet smile and before Lily could gather her thoughts, she had left, as if her sole purpose had been to create discord. With a deep sense of unease, Lily turned to Potter.
If she thought he was angry before, this was nothing compared to the look he displayed now. But rather than the previous agitation directed at his dance partner, his anger seemed of a more quiet, resigned sort, and he was staring absently at some point above her head, eyebrows furrowed to the extreme and jaw so clenched she could see the tensed muscles working there.
“Mr Potter?”
He barely acknowledged her, their fight now completely forgotten. “Miss Evans, good night.”
He bowed his head and ran away before she could detain him. She wasn’t sure what exactly had just happened, but Lily suddenly felt very cold.