InsaneJournal

There had been hesitation after the invitation had been made. Did he really trust Lily to come into his home? He didn't allow many people to come here, preferring to keep his business - both legal and illegal - contained in the shop. That was why he had an office in the back. As for his cottage, well, that was his sanctuary. He kept it nice and tidy day to day, but he had still scoured the place in advance of Lily's visit. It all seemed so surreal, Evans coming over for dinner. Potter, he reminded himself. Lily.

He'd spent a fair amount of time preparing the meal. Roasted duck with a side of winter vegetables as well as some couscous. Wine already decanting as he paced and checked on the duck again. He was as nervous as a school boy and he took a long breath to calm himself down.

The location, when given, had surprised her, though she didn’t know why. She’d only ever remembered Severus living in Cokeworth and then only at Hogwarts after. Of course he would have somewhere new to live -- and certainly not back in dreaded Spinner’s End with that thrice-damned father of his. But she hadn’t expected the lovely seclusion of Severus’s current dwelling when she Apparated to the outside of the cottage. Didn’t want to think about how peaceful it all seemed, and how, in the spring and summer months, it would be wonderful to spend time outside.

It didn’t escape her knowledge that she was privileged to be allowed admittance. Everything about the place spoke of jealously guarded privacy. This wasn’t the barren, carefully groomed surfaces of his workplace office. It made her feel both uneasy and inordinately warm as her feet crunched over a blanket of light snow that had fallen as she made her way to the front door. After a moment’s hesitation, a needed breath to gather her courage (For what? She didn’t know), she rapped her knuckles upon the door.

Severus wiped his hands on a dish towel, before untying the apron he had been wearing and hanging it beside the door. The cottage had neatly trimmed bushes out front, along with some plants during the warmer months and a more developed garden out back. He answered the door with a smile, shirtsleeves rolled up, a deep blue this time instead of his standard white, paired with dark grey waistcoat and trousers. "Lily," he said with a smile that hadn't graced his face in years. "Please, come in."

He stepped aside and let her enter before locking the door and putting the wards back up with a silent flick of his wand. One could never be too careful and he hoped she was not bait for a trap. The interior of his home was tidy and well kept, though not extravagant by any means. Books lined the walls, largely academic texts on potions and herbology, and a fire roared in the hearth. "Let me take your cloak."

“Hullo, Sev.” His more polished attire had her arching a brow, though perhaps she had also made somewhat more of an effort than she ought to have. Nothing overly ornate, which would have seemed strange to be seen in teaching class, but if there had been a moment that morning where she spent longer than usual on what to wear, well, perhaps she was growing tired of her wardrobe anyway, which had, over the years, fallen to comfort over fashion.

As soon as she crossed the threshold into Severus’s cottage, the thick heat caressed her skin, just on the right side of bearable. She undid the ties of her cloak and slipped out of it for him to take, then took her time in studying a heretofore unknown location. If asked to put together a sketch of the kind of dwellings Severus would have, she didn’t think she would have drawn something like this, and yet not one item in the room seemed out of place -- the sensible books, and only the most modest acquiescences to comfort, still all kept just a touch too neatly to indicate a dwelling that was well lived in. “This is nice. Cosy. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in a home without so much stuff.”

"I do try to avoid clutter when possible," Severus said, hanging up her cloak before leading her to the chairs in front of the fire. Cosy. What some people called small. "I don't need much space and I spend most of my time in the workroom."

He was, unfortunately, slightly nervous. "Dinner will be ready soon, but can I get you something to drink?"

“No, I … you misunderstand. I like it. It reminds me of…” Home. And Hogwarts. Or whatever places and memories could evoke the feeling of warmth and comfort. But those were all horribly forward things to say, and she didn’t know why this strange tension had to exist at all (except she did, for the same reason she hadn’t told anyone where she was going after class, how she would lie and say a student issue had held her up). “You did mention wine. What are you pairing with this infamous duck dish?”

Severus fetched a decanter - simple glass, nothing elaborate - and two glasses. Pouring the wine, he handed one glass to Lily. "A burgundy from Gevrey-Chambertin." The bottle had been a gift from one of his wealthier friends as Severus was more likely to spend his money on books and potions ingredients. "I was told it would pair well with the duck, but I'm not an expert on these matters. I tend not to do much entertaining."

She accepted the glass and brought it to her nose. It smelled -- well, rich, enticing. Lily wasn’t much of an expert on these matters either. But she nearly huffed at Severus’s remark, so archly rolled off the tongue. Anyone who had spoken with him for more than five minutes might have guessed such was the case. Still, his words prompted a deep-seated curiosity she had no business having and the question was out of her mouth before she could rein it back in. “Have you done any other? Entertaining, I mean?” With whom? nearly followed swift on the heels, but at the last moment she found some restraint within herself.

"Only when necessary," Severus explained. "To keep up acquaintances. There is an unfortunately amount of social formalities required in society and while I generally find it tedious, one learns to adapt to any environment." A circular way of saying that yes, he fraternised with what she would call the enemy, upheld social niceties with the Malfoys and the like, paid his dues to the powerful families. He despised most of it, and considered most to be acquaintances rather than friends (with few exceptions).

"I have no issue with spending an evening discussing the latest potions research with a colleague or learning something new, or attending a lecture, but the inane chatter that passes for small talk over several long courses of dinner that drag on forever are not my idea of a good time."

Purists who could end a life without a thought and then talk about their tailor’s latest work, who talked so naturally about muggles as if they were animals to be handled at best, put down and exterminated at worst. The thought enraged her. What he ever saw in them, she couldn’t fathom sometimes, but she forced her mind from examining it too closely. It would lead to heated words and arguments and she didn’t want that now. Instead, she began a slow walk down a shelf line of books, reading the titles on their spines, guessing what some of them concerned when they were blank. With a glass of undoubtedly very fine wine in her hand, she felt a bit silly, like the intellectual she most certainly was not. “I don’t know if I’ll be that much better a guest, I’m afraid. The only stories I’ve got to tell are about bratty teenagers.” And the continual escapades of Sirius Black, which she was sure he did not want to hear.

"Oh come now, Lily. I'm sure you would never be a boring dinner guest." There was something in his tone, something of the warmth of decades past, before their choices had torn them apart. He thought briefly of bringing her to one of the Malfoy's dinner parties simply to cause trouble, and their subsequent reactions. If he could ensure Lily's safety, it might, perhaps, be worth it. The simple thought caused the corners of his mouth to twitch. "Those may serve to reassure me I made the correct career choice."

“And maybe serve to make me despair mine? Such as it is.” Which wasn’t much, come to think. No one ever proudly declared aloud how they had always aspired to become half-time appointed teacher of a subject only a small percentage cared about. She wanted to cast about for a safe neutral topic then -- there were nearly two decades of history to catch up on -- and yet nothing seemed both benign and of any import. “I’ve been elected to chair WICCA after Dulcinea stepped down a few weeks ago. I’m thinking of holding a late spring masquerade ball at the -- at my home for our next fundraiser. Invite the cream of the crop of society and all.” She wanted every bloody Death Eater in attendance.

"Narcissa must have had a fit." Severus hid a smirk behind a sip of wine. "I would have paid to see that." It was useful to have friends like the Malfoys, but Severus knew where he stood with the Malfoys, that his talent would never quite make up for his blood. "Well, I am far from society's cream," he said, the mood lightened as he led Lily towards the kitchen table. There were no fine linens here, no seven course meal or polished silver. He uncovered the duck, which had been resting, and brought out some roasted brussel sprouts and carrots to accompany it.

“She did seem more heavily into her cup than I’ve ever seen her.” And Lily couldn’t even be bothered to hide hers -- it fully blossomed into an outright grin. Normally, she wasn’t one to take any delight in another’s misfortunes, but if she had to make an exception, she would for Narcissa. “That, and I believe she’s been eternally embarrassed by her son. The horror.” Narcissa certainly wouldn’t have been alarmed by the content of the crude words uttered. “For such highly questionable origins, this looks wonderful.”

"Even I've been embarrassed by their son's behaviour. It certainly won't aid to any of his endeavors, that's for certain." He began to carefully carve the duck, serving out two expertly carved slices of duck onto Lily's plate before following suit on his own. He refilled her wine glass and then his own, taking a seat and passing her the dish of brussel sprouts. "Well, I've no one to cook for me and no intent of keeping house elves, so I had to learn. There are a few dishes I know how to make."

He took a sip of wine and raised an eyebrow at her. "I do hope you're not expecting me to attend your masquerade."

“And duck just happening to be one of them, of course,” Lily said, amused. A few, she now imagined to be a fanciful array of absurdly ornate and difficult dishes. And then she imagined Severus across from her like he was now, only on most nights there would be no her. Whatever amusement there was to be gleaned from the image was gone now. At least...at least she had Harry, even if he hadn’t always been content to sit at the table with her, always in motion, bounding out of his chair, getting more food on himself and around him than in him. A child was a good distraction from loneliness. “Why not? You could wear a mask. Something more obscuring than not. The mysterious man in black with the sharp tongue.”

"Can you imagine me at a masquerade? I would stick out like a sore thumb, Lily." And there was the matter of dancing. His long, elegant fingers might be suited to the pianoforte or to skimming over his potions ingredients, but he avoided dancing at all costs. He had managed to get through dancing at Hogwarts, but at social events which required his attendance, he avoided it. "Besides, I don't dance."

“It’s a masquerade. No one sticks out -- that’s the point.” Her tone, cajoling at first, sensed the first chink in his armour. Dancing. Admittedly, she had a difficult time picturing Severus, with his distinctly unimpressed countenance, engaged in sweeping waltzes or, Merlin forbid, a jaunty quickstep. However, just because it was difficult didn’t mean she couldn’t. The image tickled. “You don’t have to dance, Sev. Not everyone dances.”

"Lily," Severus said in a tone that sounded more like a petulant ten year old than a grown man, some of the decades of animosity falling away due to her tone. "Perhaps if find me an adequate mask, I'll consider it. If you come to one of the next potions society lectures." He cut into his food and took a bite. It was odd, this constant bartering, but if it got him more time alone with Lily, he couldn't complain too much.

The surprise flickered across her features for but a moment, both at the relented position and -- she laughed in incredulity. “The Potions Society? They’ll take one look and laugh me right out of the room.” And for once, she couldn’t be sure what he was playing at, with the subscription and now the lecture. Reluctantly, she picked up her own utensils and, though she still held reservations about the duck itself, she had agreed to this and wouldn’t refuse now. And, it was...rich, tender, crisp on the outside. She had been right, of course. Severus brought to cooking the precision and attention to detail he brought to any of his passions.

"They will not. Besides, the lectures are open to the public, so anyone can attend." The meal was satisfactory. Severus took pride in the careful execution of dishes, but it hadn't quite reached the level of obsession. He was, however, skilled at manipulating subtle elements to bring out flavours, which he had attempted to do with the sauce. "Besides, I'm lecturing in April. It would be a pleasure to have you attend and you ought to stop selling yourself short. You're a brilliant witch, Lily, who can do anything she puts her mind to."

But you’re biased, she wanted to argue, because an objective examination of her life yielded very little, for all the promise she had once held. “I would be happy to attend your lectures in April, then, and I will find that mask. Perhaps you should brush up on your foxtrot, just in case.” After a pause, aware of the transaction and that the dinner itself, even, was a transaction of sorts, however she felt about it (she didn’t know, yet, was still so uneasy, but) -- “So...who do I have to thank for the original provisions of this most excellent meal?”

"I think I'll plan on avoiding the dancing, as you indicated I might. Unless you're offering dance lessons?" There was a smirk, not malicious, only slightly mischievous as he watched Lily over his glass of wine. "I want to hear your guess first."

The look she favoured him in return was a lighter version of the one more often given to Sirius -- you must be joking. “If I were to go by the number of ‘vacations’ and ‘illnesses’ declared around the time of the event, I’d say the Rowles. Selwyn. Dolohov? That can’t be all.” They couldn’t all be so spectacularly thick. Her features grew speculative. “Would you then both attend my masquerade and dance?”

"The Malfoys provided tonight's dinner," Severus said with a brief smile, though they were not the only ones affected by Fawley's work. He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. Perhaps if no one would know it's him. "Perhaps."

“Malfoys.” She couldn’t help the slight, sour twist to the corner of her mouth -- the very name of the family lent itself well to it. The thought, though, of Lucius bloody Malfoy being able to do nothing but create noisy, chaotic, shitting ducks took away much of the vile taste in her mouth. The look on Narcissa’s face even more so. By the end of the thought, she couldn’t help the slow, reluctant smile from gracing her lips. “If you’ll agree to come to my masquerade and dance -- I’ll...I’d be amenable to lessons. I’m hardly a master, and not at all qualified to teach anyone such things, but I’ve learned a thing or two in trying to not embarrass the face of WICCA and its fervent desire to turn all women into graceful, flowering dilettantes.”

"You are rather keen on me dancing," he said, unable to refrain from smirking in response to the expression on her face. "Tell me, why is it that important to you?"

Her smile slowly faded in the aftermath of the question. It was, by all rights, a fair question, and she didn’t rightly have a ready answer, save the need to hold onto every connection from her past. “Sometimes, all of this still doesn’t feel real.” The wealthy name. The horrible war. The sprawling estate. The kid. The husband.

There was something about the expression on her face, thoughts unspoken. Severus knew he could access them without much effort, even here at the dinner table. But he didn't. She may have chosen Potter -- Merlin knew both he and Potter weren't fit for polite company back then -- but she was here now. And there was no talk of mudbloods. And he had managed not to bring up Potter or Black in either of their recent interactions. (For which, he thought, he deserved some recognition or commendation.) He would not delve into her mind without permission. Well, not without good reason. Simple curiosity was not a good enough reason. Instead, he reached his hand out and squeezed hers.

"For better or worse, things are as they are. It is no use trying to run or hide from reality. It always catches up with us."

Her gaze fell to his hand on hers, prompted at the touch. “Funny, I’ve always told myself that too.” Every day for nearly 16 years, Lily Potter put nose to grindstone, accepted her lot in life and grimly carried on, if only as a way to cope, but secretly, maybe, in hopes of moving towards something better. Only, here they all were again, nearly full circle: a war, a kid, a husband, having run to it or having done nothing at all but let it come back to her again. She turned her palm up, fingers interlacing with his, almost childlike in gesture. It reminded her of being that little girl again, running and dragging her best friend with her by any handhold she could latch onto, just a finger or the edge of a shirt. Come on, Sev! “I just want to do something different for a change. So. The masquerade. Dancing. You should come.”

Severus' glance fell to their hands. He didn't know what it meant - forgiveness? A new start? Or the simple longing for a simpler time? He swallowed hard against the emotions that threatened to rise up in his chest. (Heavens forbid he actually voice them.) He rubbed his thumb against her hand, still as soft as he remembered. He glanced up at her eyes, wanting to know what was hidden in their green depths. "Alright. I'll come."

What was happening? Agreeing to go to a masquerade? To dance? But he knew what was the matter. Lily Evans was paying attention to him. And despite all he had done - all the terrible things he had done - his heart was apparently not immune to her charms. It was embarrassing, really, to be swayed so easily by one woman.

She visibly brightened, surprised but pleased. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have the greatest time of your life, knowing you, but -- thank you.” It would be a significant endeavour -- a facade of finery and elegance, a darker undercurrent of power plays and out-manoeuvrings. She told herself it would be practical to have someone there who could slip across the lines, but in truth, it felt more like another anchor secured to something.

Oh, that look. He had made her brighten. That would be worth enduring almost anything. He was, truly, a love sick sod. "I am trusting you to ensure I do not make a fool of myself on the dance floor."

Finally, with one last squeeze of his hand in reassurance, she relinquished it and picked up her wine glass. “I promise you, Sev, I won’t lead you astray.”