InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "frosty the snowman"

Lily's brain kept kicking up new reasons why going to confront Severus was a terrible idea and she should wait or put it off entirely; she suspected it was just because she didn't, deep down, want to do it. It was going to be an uncomfortable conversation for both of them, ripping off band-aids that had been in place for a number of years. And probably he wouldn't tell her anything. He had no reason to, and every reason to keep silent, whatever his loyalties were. But just perhaps the details of how he refused would tell her something. At the very least, it would hardly cause any more damage.

Unless one of the terrible things her brain had suggested really did happen. Which was why she had, actually, taken a few precautions, told a few people where she would be, before popping out of Mungos on a late and extended lunch break.

Lily paused outside Mulpepper's--which was pushing the boundaries of insalubrious and heading towards downright dingy, though that did mean it fit in well with its surroundings--and took a fortifying breath before pushing the door open and marching inside. The shop closed around her like a dark mouthful of teeth, and she refused to be daunted, calling out, "Hello?" as she pushed between shelves towards--wait, was that a dried posey of night-blooming heartsease?

Daylight hours didn’t see an excess of customers. Knockturn Alley existed in a sort of perpetual twilight, allowing very little sunlight to penetrate its nooks and crannies by design, but still its usual denizens preferred to turn up later rather than earlier. That suited Severus fairly well, since it meant most of his early hours could be spent brewing in the back rather than dealing with anyone needing attention in the front.

There was a little charm that activated when someone entered, letting him know the front of the shop was now occupied, and Severus reluctantly set aside his stirring rod to poke his head out with a mild, “One moment.”

He needed to adjust temperature on two cauldrons and move a third from the flame, and he emerged to blink owlishly at a very familiar redhead. At least it wasn’t Black. He’d been expecting that particular menace since Peter mentioned the risk to him. “Lily,” he greeted, cautious.

Lily blinked and looked up from the shelf--which had all sorts of other little bouquets of interest to the creative potioneer--and smiled, measuredly but no less sincere for the restraint. "Hello Severus. Just who I came to see. Do you have a moment to chat?"

Severus could guess what she’d like to chat about, and while he’d probably tell anyone else to just get on with it and skip the pleasantries, this was Lily. He’d only snapped at Lily once. Ever. And having spent every day since regretting that, he wasn’t in a rush to do it again. So he nodded, beckoning. “Back here. I’ve several cauldrons on, but I can talk so long as I can keep an eye on them.”

"If you're sure," Lily said, stepping forward to follow along. "I don't want to distract you from anything fiddly." The thing she liked best about her job at Mungos was the lovely lockable door with its do not knock, brewing in progress sign.

She looked around with professional curiosity at Severus's set-up here, though she tried not to look too nosy and prying. (It was, after all, none of her business what he was working on, though she couldn't help looking over the ingredients and starting a mental tally of possibilities.) "How've you been keeping since the Fete?" she asked, almost absently, as she looked around for an out-of-the-way place to stand.

Nothing terribly interesting was being brewed today, which was why Severus chanced inviting Lily back. If nothing else, she respected the process enough not to touch anything. “Busy,” he answered, peering into the nearest cauldron to check the colour of its contents. It was still a murky grey, no hint of green yet, so he leaned back again to arc brows at Lily. “You?”

She looked well, but she usually did. Not that he’d been paying much attention. It was just… one of those things.

"Can't complain," Lily responded serenely. And in certain areas, that was entirely true; Harry was finally getting the hang of trying new foods, and various other aspects of work, both official and non, were proceeding quite well. "Though we have recently come into a spot of anxiety. Not sure if you've heard about it. Seems that certain hostile parties are aware of our mutual acquaintance's monthly indisposition." If Lily's circuitous and anonymised phrasing left room for some confusion, the direct look she fixed on Severus left little doubt she expected him to know what she was talking about.

Oh, Severus had heard, but given that he shouldn’t know a thing about the whole mess, he couldn’t exactly leap to his preferred response on it… which mostly involved rolling his eyes, because honestly. Monthly indisposition. That was little better than those idiots running around hinting at furry little problems, as if someone with a brain wouldn’t eventually happen along and figure out they weren’t discussing a wayward familiar.

“And I take it this visit means that you think I’m responsible,” he drawled, finally. His expression remained carefully neutral, with only the hint of something like distaste curling at his lips.

"Not at all actually," Lily responded evenly. Her chin lifted a little as she added, "I very much hope my confidence there isn't misplaced. And I don't know who could be responsible. How anyone else could possibly know, and what else they might know. But I was hoping..." She paused, and a faint smile curved her lips, as though she were inviting Severus in on the joke: that she had this flimsy hope, that she'd come to ask despite how silly the idea was that he'd tell her anything at all. "I was hoping you might."

Up ticked a brow. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about it,” Severus asserted, flat. That was true and it rang like truth, with the undertone of something indignant behind it. He’d never spoken to anyone about Lupin’s particular affliction. That wasn’t exactly a lack of desire on his part, granted, but desire was hardly the topic at hand.

He glanced aside again, checking the cauldrons and reorganizing his thoughts. While he knew precisely who was to blame in this case, he couldn’t tell Lily… and he couldn’t even hint around it just to watch the resultant chaos. That was a pity. Not so long ago, he would’ve happily watched Black and his little gang devour one another; literally or metaphorically, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Time changed things, he supposed. It was surprisingly inconvenient.

“Has anyone stopped to consider that perhaps someone’s been watching you lot?” Severus prompted, glancing over again. Severus had, years ago. Patterns were easy, once you started looking. He couldn’t imagine that Lupin had much changed his monthly routines, as it were.

"They attacked my home, Severus," Lily said, her voice quiet but still bound tight with everything that and this entire stupid conflict had laid on her--fear and determination and grief. "Yes, we know we are being watched." She cleared her throat, and aimed for a more even tone as she added, "Do you know something more about that? About any... observation?"

That had been Severus’ entire point. Every wizard knew Lily’s name, and the names of the people who’d been there for that attack. They’d been splashed in the papers. People had taken an interest. Thinking someone might still be paying attention wasn’t at all outlandish.

He tilted his head, gaze flickering across her face. “No. It simply seems to be the most logical option for how Lupin’s been found out. If I could figure out he and his friends were up to something years ago, it’s not out of the question to think someone’s done it again. They’re none of them very subtle.”

A slight smile tweaked at Lily's mouth as she tilted her head, acknowledging the point. Though... "Even Gryffindors learn from experience sometimes," she said. They were more careful about things, and the more chaotic systems of grown-up lives offered far better cover than the regimented structures of schooldays. But perhaps it was possible that this was just something that had been figured out from close monitoring.

That idea lodged a speck of panic in Lily's chest; if they were being watched that closely, that assiduously, what other weaknesses might have been exposed? She didn't think there was anything on display; she hadn't thought this secret could be deduced either.

Lily took a breath and shoved that aside, sealing it up until she could collapse in James's arms, cuddle her baby tight, drag all her boys around her like a blanket. "Well," she said, straightening a little, "I suppose you might be right. Thank you for speaking with me."

“It has been known to happen,” Severus muttered, fingers ticking restlessly over a stirring rod. He felt… bad. He felt bad lying to Lily. It wasn’t comfortable, and yet. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

Though…

Clearing his throat, he jerked one shoulder in something like a shrug. “You might keep a closer eye. Home. Work. Try to change your routines if you can,” he suggested, not quite casual. He’d heard nothing in particular, but it was always wise to be cautious. Nothing was as settled as it had seemed months ago.

It was common sense--Lily knew it was common sense--but part of her still bristled. Keep careful. Keep low. Make a smaller target and hope they attack someone else next time. Fuck them, she wasn't going to live in fear. "Oh, I think they'll find I can be quite unexpected," she said, brisk and crisp, before she reined in the brief flare of temper and was once more, determinedly, serene. "Thank you for the advice. And if you happen to hear--anything, obviously I would be very grateful to hear about it."

That almost made Severus nostalgic. He knew that tone and his mouth ticked up against his best attempts at keeping a straight face. It only lasted a moment and then he was blank again, lips pressed thin and tight. “You know,” he began, careful, eyes fixed on his hands, “If I did know anything, I would tell you. For your safety.”

He hoped she knew. They’d fallen out, but Severus had never intended or wanted any ill to befall Lily. Well. Anymore than came naturally after she’d fallen in with Potter, anyway. But that had been entirely her choice so the consequences were sort of baked in there.

Lily looked at him--at this man not looking at her who was still in so many little recognisable ways the boy who'd been her best friend--and smiled, though it was sad for any number of reasons. "I appreciate that, Severus. I want to believe you." She waited a moment, to see if he would look up at her, before adding, "But words are just words, and I can't keep my family safe with them."

Severus did look up, meeting her eyes briefly before glancing aside on a nod that was more like resignation than agreement. She had a point and he couldn’t argue it. Didn’t even want to, really. “I understand.” He set aside the stirring rod, peeking again into the cauldron nearest to hand, and gestured. “I need to get back to this. Was there anything else?”

"Of course," Lily said, quickly and easily. "Thank you again for taking the time to chat. That's all I came for." She stepped toward the door, then paused on the threshold to add, "It's always nice to see you, Severus. Keep well."

Somehow, Severus thought Lily actually meant that, which was… odd. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had been pleased to see him. Dipping his chin, he allowed a very small, if slightly awkward smile in return. “You as well, Lily.” It was on the tip of his tongue to add stay safe, but he supposed it went without saying… and his saying it wouldn’t help in the least.

He watched her out, quiet, and reset the wards to alert him to the next customer before returning to his work.