bakerstreet | But you say you're just a friend

the best friends to more meme

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?

Comment with your character, canon, preferences, and which side you may want to play. IE, the one with feelings, etc. Also, mention if you'd like things to be more fluffy or more tragic.
Respond to others. Assumed CR and AU it up if need be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's... Honestly, that isn't great either. Something rotten, &tc. Butting heads constantly, getting frustrated, dealing with temper tantrums and wanting to throw her own - it's a lot. She'd considered bringing in a telephone while Petunia was endlessly bothering her but decided in the end that it was easier to leave and talk to her elsewhere than deal with it. James doesn't abuse her - she'd kill him, probably literally - but he's him and there's no changing that.

Whatever.

Lily's silent for a moment, looking out the window before she speaks. "Don't be sorry," she finally begins, "and I've had far worse startles in my life." What is she even trying to say? She's not sure.

Recklessly, without thought, she holds out her palm like she's expecting something. "Give me your hand for a moment. Don't argue, just do it."

Severus looks at her.

Like she's lost her mind, like he's not falling for this again, like he knows she's making fun of him and is immediately, nauseously angry. Severus gives her a hard, offended look, and doesn't say anything-- before he gets up, heads to the counter to wordlessly leave a few quid for the coffee, and then strides out the door. He doesn't break pace, just keeps walking. It'll be a few blocks before it's deserted enough to duck into an alley to disapparate.

Fuck this. Fuck her, fuck her sister and her husband, he's not going to sit through this.

Oh for fucking wizard god's sake, there's no changing.

(It's only been like four years, it's not like they've had time to grow as not-people.)

Lily quickly pays for the coffee she didn't actually order before storming out after him. She's furious suddenly, though she knows he's well within his rights. Still: she's going to pace him and then overtake him so that she can stand in front of him abruptly, eyes sharp.

It says something that she's not worried at all that he's going to attack her if she does this, take his wrist (curiously gently, no matter how angry she is) and grasp it so that she can use her other hand to draw a few more runes on the back of his hand with purpose. He should recognize them immediately: a silly little protective thing she crafted when they were children learning themselves. It's just more finessed now, stronger, perfected. It's not something tangible once it's done, but it's there, and if there's one thing Lily can do it's protect others.

Then she releases his hand and looks at him with her chin tipped up - she may as well have her hands on her hips. Challenging. Stay alive, she'd said.

Of course he's not going to attack her. He does freeze up, though, startling at the touch-- gentle as she is, Severus is still never going to be a man who doesn't recoil, internally or otherwise, at unexpected physical contact. He's fucking furious and it's written all over his face, in the tension in his shoulders and through his arm to the hand she's holding.

"Stop it," he hisses at her, but he doesn't jerk away. It would be too much of a physically violent movement and he's so inherently opposed to that sort of thing, and it's not like he feels threatened. When she's finished he snatches his hand back and just glares at her.

"What do you think this is proving? Do you want an extra honorific on your tombstone, that you gave water to lepers and forgave Death Eaters? Buying into the Saint Potter propaganda now that you've married into it?"

She's furious too. It's in her eyes and her stance and the way her feet are planted firm. Her shoulders are squared, hands at her sides but not balled up. Just hanging there, tense but useless.

"Shut up," she says, "shut up if you think this is about shit like being remembered fondly or proving something. I'm not a saint. Saints don't exist. I'm selfish and spoiled and horrible and I was so furious at you but fuck's sake, I never didn't like you. You have every right to be angry with me, I know, but at least accept a bloody ward. Fat lot of good it'd do anyway but I can't do much else."

A beat, still angry. "I don't want to be remembered at all, much less as some damned saint."

But you say you're just a friend

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