Chapter Text
Lily Evans.
June 12th 1998.
Lily was thirteen-years-old when she realised that Severus Snape wasn’t who she thought he was.
Originally, she had thought he was kind, supportive, and unapologetically devoted to what he believed in. That’s how he had always been, and naively, Lily thought that’s how he would always be.
But it was the summer of 98’ and Lily had just been given vice-captain at Wood-Green Secondary school for her outstanding performances in football. Unlike all the other captains, they had to be in at least year ten before even being looked at, but Lily was different. Maybe she was ‘bossy’ or ‘too kean’, like all the boys said, but that didn’t phase her. As far as she was concerned, she was vice captain at thirteen and they weren’t.
She had been so excited to tell Severus of her accomplishments, that even at an International school in South Kensington, she was still able to get noticed by the Coaches.
“It’s insane, isn't it?” She boasted, watching Severus’ face stretch up into a small smile as he hummed along, he didn't speak and that worried Lily for a moment. Maybe she was being too proud, but Severus never usually minded. “I know I'm only the vice captain,” she began but he waved his hands up, stopping her.
He held his bag a little tighter and glanced around them, as if they were being spied on. She hadn’t noticed it at the time, but she had already lost the friend she thought would last forever. “No, it's really good, Lily.” he clarified, calming her nerves with his words. He held her shoulder, the contact was too warm as he said, “None of us on the boys team could ever get Vice captain so soon. You should be proud.”
Lily smiled. “I am.”
“Well, that’s good.” He began and couldn’t seem to stop, “none of us could ever play against you, you’d run circles around us.”
That was the last time she’d hear Severus compliment her as friends. Through the years, he had tried again but Mary and Marlene had never let him say more than two words before dragging her away.
Her lips began to pull up until another voice chimed in and the badge, that was clipped to her blazer, was swiftly ripped off. She gasped and turned, finding Mulciber and his little posse. Lily grew tired before they had even spoken. “Ooo,” Mulciber drew out, dangling the badge in-front of her as though she was a cat and it was a dead mouse. “What an accomplishment.”
Lily lifted her chin, “it is, thanks.” She reached for it but he lifted his hand higher. She huffed. “Well, what do you have to show, Mulciber?” She asked, spitefully, “you hardly make it off the sub bench.”
Mulciber had only laughed at her, shaking his head. “It's more of an accomplishment to be on the men’s sub bench than captain of the girls team.”
Lily’s face struck bright pink. What was he even talking about? Sure, the boys and girls played on separate teams but that’s just how things had always been. She hadn’t counted it down to lack of ability on the women’s end, if anything, they’re more than capable. The boys around them laughed. “We’ve won almost double the amount of trophies than you boys have.” She bit back.
It was true, the girls team at Wood Green was one of the best in London, if not the country. They always make it to the semi-finals, if not further.
Like a gun, Mulciber shot back, “why’d you think that is?” He asked, giving her not even a second to reply, “because girls football is easier than men’s football. We have more skill than you ever will. I could probably beat your team on my own,” he leant forwards, looking down at Lily with hard eyes, “and, with my eyes closed.” He shut his eyes, grinning as his friends laughed, then flung them back open.
Lily cleared her throat, “that’s not true-”
“Tell her Sev,” Muciber jeered and Lily’s eyes snapped to her side and noticed that Severus was no longer beside her. Instead, during the midst of the argument, he had shuffled to stand behind Mulciber.
Lily glared at him, she was pleading with her eyes for Severus to stand up for her, just this once. Severus was looking back at her with such emotion that sometimes Lily wonders whether he was trying to apologise to her before he had even spoken.
It didn’t matter then and it certainly doesn’t matter now.
Severus’ head lifted slightly. “He’s right, Lily.” He said, quietly. “It’s only girls football. It isn’t as important as the men’s.”
Lily’s face went hot and her throat restricted so tightly that she believed all the air had disappeared from the planet. It had never occurred to her that people thought this way; that people truly believed sex was what separated importance. Deep down, the fear had always been there. The fear that one day her male-counterparts might finally realise that she is female. Now that she thinks about it, they were male before anything to her a long time ago. Maybe her paranoia always ran deeper than theirs, maybe she couldn’t trust them as much as they could trust her, or maybe they just didn't need to. They didn't need to trust her because they did not fear her. Not like how she fears them.
Mulciber continued, “besides, you’re a scholarship student. I bet they pity you.” He laughed and the others joined in as though it was the chorus to a song. “I bet they worry about your daddy’s position in his job.”
Lily had never told Mulciber what her father did for work. She didn’t tell him that he worked within a low division of the advancement of Potions. It isn’t an affluent job but it’s an important one; he aids the creation of medical advancement and is a catalyst to Potions spreading around the world for wider usage. She didn’t tell anyone that other than her closest friends. Only Mary, Marlene, Remus and-
Lily looked up at Severus but he didn’t look back at her this time.
“You told me I was better than all the boys on your team.” She snitched, shooting daggers into Severus’ face, which was full of embarrassment and worry.
His eyes flicked up and he glanced at his peers before he looked at Lily. “I didn’t say that.” He vowed.
Lily watched him for a moment longer and was filled with pity, not for herself, but for Severus, who would be kicked around by these boys for the rest of his life. She didn't recognise him when she spared him her last, fleeting glance.
Maybe that was a good thing.