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bakerstreet2017-05-08 01:57 pm
postingmemes) wrote in bakerstreet2017-05-08 01:57 pm
Entry tags:
But you say you're just a friend
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| There's nothing in this world quite like a true, blue best friend that you can rely on. They've been with you through thick and thin, good and bad. You want to have fun? They're the first person you look for, because they always know how to bring the best out in you. You need a shoulder to cry on? Don't worry, they're already here. You need to bury a body? ...you should probably reconsider your priorities, but you know your best friend will be there with a shovel and a smile. You'd never ruin this friendship for ANYTHING in the world. Something's brewing that may do just that, though. One of you has feelings, has for a long time, and that spells trouble. Unless you keep that to yourself and remain platonic, of course. Repression in this case might be a good thing. Only it's too late. The cat's out of the bag, whether it's by confession or by accident. What to do, what to do? If feelings aren't returned, can you turn down a friend, or will you force something that isn't there just to make them happy? If feelings are returned, will you risk changing the perfect thing you have?
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That's it, that's the note. Attached to a not entirely friendly owl who is definitely more interested in when he'll be allowed to fly away from Godric's Hollow than whether or not Lily's got any owl treats-- in fact, it's not going to stay to see if she's going to write a reply, and its yellow eyes suggest if her hand gets near its leg again she might lose a finger. Open the window, lady.
There's no return address, no name signed, but the handwriting - even after so many years - should be familiar. (Not to mention the hostile bird being a dead giveaway.) Most wizarding villages don't have telephones hooked up, but the row houses outside the defunct mill in Cokeworth still have them. Apparently.
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Yes, the hostile bird is a dead giveaway. Yes, the handwriting is a dead giveaway. Yes, the fact that it's someone that her sister could contact is a dead giveaway.
Lily lets the owl back out and stares at the note as something dark and painful coils in her chest, thumb brushing over ink. After far too long she tucks the note into her pocket and leaves to travel to the nearest telephone box she remembers the location of. Oftentimes talking to Petunia is difficult. There's so much hidden pain there for the both of them and it's just—
—anyway, no one's house is on fire or anything but it's a small Crisis that is, apparently, a thing that even estranged sisters talk about. It's still tense like it always is, but they manage. Always have, somehow.
Tell him thank you, Tuney, she says, before she hangs up.
That's all. Sisters talking through phone lines in the dark across the borders of two worlds and a thank you for someone she hasn't spoken to in years.
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It's funny to him: that she's this much of a bitch and the way he's always treated her has been infinitely worse, but even she leaves out any condolences about Tobias.
Don't phone me again.
She phones him again.
A week goes by. Once more, the finger-hating owl abuses of a window at Godric's Hollow.
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This time she doesn't stare at the note as long but she does tuck it away before going to phone Petunia again.
Tuney, I just talked to you yesterday, what is it? Is something wrong? Lily can't help it.
No, I just wanted to speak with you again.
Lily is so desperate for a re-connection with her sister that she doesn't question it any more. They talk about stupid things and Lily talks about her argument with James and Petunia sounds oddly unsurprised.
Finally, Lily offers to come by the phone box on a daily basis to ring her up. No, no, I don't want to put you out of your way. I'm sure you're very busy with that sulking Potter.
Right. I'll get a PO box an give you the address next time we talk.
Of course, Lily.
She's curious and suspicious but she's still not sure what the hell Petunia is doing.
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As it turns out: No, Petunia is not at this diner, never will be at this diner, but through a series of obnoxious events she's ferreted out this is where one (1) Severus Snape will be at this precise time. Sitting at a table with coffee and a book and a half-smoked cigarette set in the groove of an ashtray.
He doesn't notice when Lily walks in - too absorbed in whatever he's reading (occasionally putting notes into the margins of with a pen), and sat a ways back in the place. It isn't empty, but it's between rushes, the atmosphere quiet and only a little dingy. Characterful, some would say in its defense. A dive according to most others.
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She actually doesn't realize what's going on until she's on her way to the table she'll be waiting for Petunia at and
coming to a complete and total stop in the middle of the walkway. "Oh."
It's very soft as that something dark and twisting rears in her chest, but then she continues, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to kill her." Simply. Petunia is never going to get here, which she should have known from the moment she saw the place.
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Severus doesn't say anything, doesn't startle or sit up, but the look on his face says he's just as shocked as she is. Moreso, actually, as he was not invited here by a scheming sister. He's just here, and now so is Lily. He's frozen in place, one hand holding his book open, elbows on the table, staring at her like he can't figure out what emotion matches this situation, brain frantically searching through a significant ERROR moment.
I'm going to kill her.
Her? What? Checks to his peripheral vision says Lily's alone, who-- Ah.
It clicks into place and he feels queasy and embarrassed, and now he does sit up, closing his book and pulling his hands back like he's withdrawing into himself. He looks cornered, like he's going to bolt any second or maybe just die on the spot, because this is entirely too many shades of Hogwarts bullying for him to process gracefully.
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—"sorry," she breathes out suddenly, sounding lost and awkward and... something, she doesn't know. "I'm sorry, I didn't know about this. Just that she's been bothering you so she could talk to me more." Right. Talk to her more. Man, Petunia. Of all the dick moves. She's not looking at him, instead looking down at her hands worrying over each other... nervously? Why does she feel nervous? Embarrassed too, obviously, but it's just not something she knows how to deal with right now.
So Petunia's been planning this all along. "Did she even bother to tell you I said thank you for telling me to call? I didn't want you to think I was just not going to say anything."
(Even though he really clearly did not actually want her to reply just like he hadn't wanted to have to contact her in the first place.)
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Now, though. He thinks he'll hex all her hair off if he sees her again.
Petunia had passed on Lily's thanks. She'd also complained - quite a lot - about how much Lily and James fought, about how awful James is to her. Severus endured it silently and swallowed any reaction, because it's not his place. James can do whatever he bloody likes and Lily will always forgive him. She chose her path, after all.
"I shouldn't have bothered you," he says eventually. "I'm disconnecting the phone next week anyway."
Because everything's wrapped up. Did Petunia mention his parents are dead? --Whatever train of thought there is derailed violently as he sees a familiar figure pass by the front glass; fortunately at an angle not to be looking within. Yet. His expression twists, half-panicked.
"Sit in the booth behind me and be quiet." Suddenly he's all seriousness, speaking like he's not used to being disobeyed. He knocks the ashtray off his table and stands up in between her and the front of the diner, blocking her from view -- of Orin Avery, just pulling the door open.
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Severus, she thinks, at least listens to her wishes.
Petunia didn't mention his parents, no. "Disconnecting it? Wh--"
Severus doesn't have to say anything for her to tense in response to that expression. Many Gryffindors would have balked at being told what to do by someone like Severus, but they would be idiots and also probably dead. Lily, on the contrary, immediately does as she's instructed, settling in small and inconspicuous and with a cup of coffee that was definitely not full a moment ago but is currently between her hands, black and steaming. A reason to be sat there. By the time Orin is anywhere near close enough to see her, she's nothing more than an anonymous redhead drinking some coffee.
Totally inconspicuous. No need to even more than glance, really.
The disillusionment charm on the scarf she's just tugged out of a pocket and wrapped around her neck is as close to perfect as is humanly possible, but she's still not going to make any noise or do anything conspicuous. No, she's going to sit here, think of the meanings and ramifications of this, and not be noticed by Orin Avery, whose eyes will just slide over her like she isn't even there.
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Conversation isn't anything damning or even particularly interesting. Orin thought Severus might be here and he was in the area, lucked out stopping by. They talk about the girl Orin's been seeing, Severus' apothecary work, and then Orin says Did your da really shuffle off the other week, and things turn a little stilted. Something he overheard Antonin say, but Severus privately doesn't know why the fuck Antonin would know. Probably Lucius and Narcissa talking. You want to go out for a pint or something with the lads?
"I'm not upset. He was a cunt."
Orin laughs. Severus lights another cigarette, and one for the other man. They talk more and it's easy again, but curiously coded. Severus could kill Orin, honestly, because to anyone else it would be utterly inconspicuous, but to Lily, it has to be plain as day they're discussing Voldemort. Someone of importance is upset with a situation concerning a vicious stray dog. Flatly, Severus advises it just be put down, and the conversation becomes incredulous on Orin's part-- skeptical Severus can get away with whatever it is he's suggesting.
"You tell Fenrir if I see another one of his envoys anywhere near me he's getting eyeteeth and blood back and that's all," Severus says in a near hiss, praying it's quiet enough that Lily can't hear him clearly, but too annoyed not to say it. They have a hushed, irritable exchange, but Orin gives up, deciding: I don't disagree, honestly, just don't want you to be in trouble.
"Sweet of you." Dry.
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Anyway.
There's little to feel about anything but cold when the conversation turns to - yes, she instantly knows - Voldemort. Severus has to know that she's going to have to relay everything she hears. It's no secret that she's a member of the Order. It never has been. She continues to sit quietly, doesn't look toward Severus in the glass, drinks her coffee and waits.
(She hates that she thinks a moment that Severus didn't know the conversation would turn to this, that she should leave before it finishes.)
Lily hears the word Fenrir and some other choice words but the full breadth of it is lost in the hiss of his statement. Lily doesn't react to any of it. Not at all. The conversation doesn't go on much longer after that - Orin has places he needs to be, which are in fact not war-related in the least, as he's about to meet the girl he's been seeing for a date. Even when he's professing concern for Severus not getting in trouble, he seems so damn laid-back in this place talking about this. What a personality on that guy.
Eventually though, he takes his leave, though he does remind of the offer of going out for a pint whether in mourning or celebratory, which says a lot about the state of things in his head (in both of their heads, since knocking back a drink to that death doesn't sound horrible). In any case, the door swings shut behind him when he leaves.
Lily, for a moment, still doesn't move.
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He knows she's in the Order. Just like she knows he's in with the Dark Lord. But it's one thing to know an another thing to have it shoved in her face-- at least, some frantic part of his mind offers, no one actually knows how to identify a Death Eater, or what they really are. If it were illegal to be associated with a certain crowd it'd be another story, but it isn't yet, just
very tense.
There's also this: Severus could have told her to leave. He could have staged an argument, accused her of following him, made a scene with Orin or dragged his friend elsewhere. He could have stunned her silently at any moment during that conversation, he could be Obliviating her right now. But he's just sitting at his table with his head in one hand, swearing internally.
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She just looks at him and she breathes and then she glances away and takes a sip of her coffee like they've just been sitting here talking like normal people and that they don't know they're on opposite sides of a chasm that's currently filled with unquenchable flames. The silence carries on. "Petunia never told me about your father."
Of all the things she could have said, should have said, that is not really high on the priority list. "So that's why the phone--I'm sorry you've had to deal with her on top of everything else." Not I'm sorry for your loss, not any kind of condolences over his father, just: sorry you got more stress piled on you.
(What is she doing, why is she pretending they're normal people, why is she saying any of this? She doesn't know.)
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He doesn't say anything for a while.
Eventually,
"He got drunk and pushed Eileen down the stairs last year." Severus puts out the last of his cigarette with the hand not holding his head up, having found he's lost his taste for anything and everything, at the moment. "Killed her. Constable wouldn't look into it."
And now he's dead, so. Good fucking riddance.
"I should have just lent Petunia an owl. I'm sorry."
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"I'm sorry," she finally says, "about Eileen." There's something there that's very clear that isn't being said, but Tobias deserved whatever he got and sainted Lily Potter is not actually a saint at all. Good fucking riddance indeed.
Instead of staring down at the table, Lily is staring studiously out of the very slightly dingy window. There's not much to see outside, but it's less awkward than this table is right now.
Eventually: "no you shouldn't have. Vernon probably would have tried to kill it and talking to me wasn't Petunia's goal anyway, she still would have found ways to bother you." Dry. "I offered to call her every day so she could stop bothering you, she said she was fine with things then kept going on with it anyway."
Basically: they both got played really hard by Petunia and now it's got them ... here, awkwardly.
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Lily doesn't ask how Tobias went. He's grateful.
Another long pause.
"Reckon we can go shove her in a lake," he deadpans, because he can't think of anything but the threat they used to levy at her when they were children and Petunia wouldn't lay off.
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And then--honestly, Lily almost laughs. Almost. It would have been a fluttering, nervous laugh that he wouldn't have recognized, so perhaps it's for the better this way. "I think," she settles on, "I've never felt more like it than I have now. She used to just want to join in so she didn't miss anything, now she's just meddling."
Hell of a place to meddle, Petunia.
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Severus dislikes Petunia to an extreme degree - her behavior is on the list of reasons he hates muggles so much - but he understands why she stooped to taking her rage out on her sister like this. Much more effective to try and screw up her marriage and force her to open old wounds than to say something cruel. Awfully Slytherin of her. Severus should be impressed.
He doesn't want to look at Lily. If he looks at her she's going to think about everything Petunia said about her marriage to Potter, he's going to think about how hurt he is still. He's fought bitterly to amputate feelings for her from himself, but he's weak and she's every weakness; he doesn't want to give it an inch. He should leave. He can't, though, because she's heard what she's heard and they have to - they have to.
Something.
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(It hurts more than she'd like to admit, honestly. She doesn't need to admit it though, since Severus knows her well enough even now to know how much she's hurt by Petunia's actions. Dragging her husband and--someone she still cares about very much, even estranged and guilty--Severus into it just makes it all the worse.)
She knows they have to do something. But part of her is trying to say it likes sitting here and the rest of her is desperately trying to smash it down because their friendship has sailed off into the damn distance and, unlike what she'd liked to have believed as a teenager when she was vicious and angry, it's not all his fault. It's a lot her fault too. It stings but it should, and for a long time she just sits.
Eventually when she speaks again, her voice is still low.
"Where do we go from here?" Their situation. They should be fighting. Or. Something.
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All in all her sins are lesser by far. Severus thinks of her trying not to laugh that day but he knows what he did was worse, he knows he deserved it. All of it. That doesn't mean he isn't hurt and bitter about everything, but humans are funny like that. Emotional multitasking. (I know, but)
"I don't know."
Severus' coffee is cold.
"They got me out of it," he says at last, and finally risks looking at her. "They got me out of it. I know who they are and what I'm doing but the first person to ever tell me 'it's wrong and you aren't staying there anymore' was Lucius's mother."
It's not an excuse. The fact that child protective services in the UK wouldn't bother with complaints from the neighborhood he grew up in, and the fact that the Ministry defaulted to the muggle government because the man of the house wasn't a wizard, and the fact that not a single teacher or nurse ever so much as batted an eye at the bruises he'd show up to term with-- none of these things erase what Voldemort and his followers want. But it goes a hell of a long way to explain why Severus has never been deaf to it, on top of everything else. It's wrong, he knows it's wrong, but it's the only place he belongs and he hates all the alternatives anyway.
(I know, but)
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Lily looks back at Severus quiet and unflinching, not searching but somber and listening to Severus' explanation. (Not excuses. They both know that's not what Severus is doing though, and she can appreciate that much.) For a long time she just nods once, processing and trying to unpack her emotions as her gaze dips down to her coffee cup. "I should have--" Should have what? What could a young teenager have done? Instead she settles on: "I'm sorry. For everything," everything that was her, the way she hurt him, the way she'd acted and contributed and everything that rests sour in her throat now. It's not an excuse and it doesn't make things better, but the sincere regret is there. For a moment it looks almost like she wants to grasp for one of his hands but then thinks better of it, fingers flexing uselessly against the flat surface of the table. "I'm glad someone finally did get you out of it."
Even if it was who it was. (Is who it is.)
Eventually she looks up at him again, her whisper so soft that it's barely audible. "I've been asked," she begins, "twice."
That's all she says. Whether Severus knew or not, something interesting is she doesn't include James for reasons other than his treatment of Severus: while they'd both been asked, the fact of the matter remains that were it about James, they would have only asked him. But asking both of them means it's about Lily, the muggle-born witch, and asking James, the pure-blood wizard, is only to hide the fact that it is about her and to make her more likely to accept.
She hadn't.
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"I know."
Well. Cat's out of the bag, so to speak, there's no reason to be coy about it. Severus shouldn't give this much away, he knows - he should let everyone believe he's just some fringe sycophant, an errand boy, and not... what he is. A young man in the immediate, personal confidence of Lord Voldemort, a young man who knows about Tom Riddle's muggle father. Of course the Dark Lord would find Lily Evans, muggle-born witch of renowned power that that fairy-tale red hair, the more appealing potential servant than her spoilt pureblood husband.
"I told him not to bother, but I guess there's something about you that makes the worst of us pay attention."
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Knowing and knowing are utterly different things. Lily nods, just a little. She wouldn't believe he were just some fringe sycophant anyway, but the sheer closeness required that makes a fresh wave of nausea rise up in her briefly that she squashes down. When she looks across at him now it's not accusing or disgusted, it's... difficult to read. Lily's always been so expressive but it's been closed off lately with the war and with stress and quite honestly just existing in the current climate.
Then again it's like that for most everyone these days.
"Told him not to bother." Dry. "Yes, clearly that hasn't worked." The rules of their existence dictate that she should never let her guard down around him but she slumps slightly in her seat, head tipping back toward the ceiling as she briefly closes her eyes. "I'm bloody tired, Severus." She tips her head forward again and looks at him. "Do you know if he's going to ask me again? Because my answer won't change. No matter what."
It's so surreal in a horrible way to be asking her childhood best friend if he knows whether the Dark Lord is going to ask her again to friend him on wizard facebook.
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Voldemort thinks rather highly of himself, however, to no-one's surprise. He's going to try, being more dynamic than Severus (especially then-teenage Severus), and he's going to be distracted by the sheer potential Lily holds.
"I don't know. I don't have his day planner," he says, somewhat bitterly. Like Severus set You-Know-Who on her, or something.
"Life is tiring, Lily. You could go on vacation to Bermuda if you'd rather."
No one forced her to join up with Dumbledore. She's muggle-born but she's not a soldier. She has options, she has money. She's always had a thousand doors just waiting for her.
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