She thinks this might be the first time in six years that he’s actually called her Lily. Something about it makes her sit up and take notice, listen to him harder. He’s not saying any of this to hurt her, she realizes, or to get under her skin. He truly believes that Severus is the enemy, and it’s not born out of the childish hatred of their early disputes, or simple House rivalry anymore. It’s about what they believe, fundamentally, about who is deserving to be a part of their world or not, and for once she knows that in the never-ending feud between these two boys, that James Potter is the one in the right. Severus hates muggles. Severus might even want to kill muggles, and muggleborns, like her. James Potter is saying to her “that’s wrong. That’s evil.” And she’s sitting here debating him like she doesn’t already know that with her whole heart. She feels a headache coming on suddenly, and she rubs her temples.
At his mention of Sirius, she looks up. She knows a little bit about what happened with Sirius and his family, everyone does, of course, and she’d offered to lend him an ear more than once, though he hadn’t seemed very willing to talk about it at the time. It’s the parallel between the four of them that really interests her now. “Sirius is your best friend. You love him,” she says, not needing confirmation. You don’t do what he did, invite someone into your home, make them a part of your family, treat them like a brother, for someone you don’t love. “I’m asking you to imagine for a moment that Sirius had betrayed you, really betrayed you, to the point where you can no longer justify being his friend. And don’t tell me he wouldn’t,” she insists. “That’s not the point. Imagine that that happened, and you had to do what I did.” She matches his gaze steadily. “Is there any part of you that would be able to hate him completely? Any part of you that wouldn’t wish him well, that wouldn’t hope for him to make the right choices and stay on the right path?” She shakes her head. “If you can imagine that, can you imagine how difficult this is for me, to know that you’re probably right, and there’s likely to come a day where it’ll be him or me?” She doesn’t know why she’s so desperate to make him understand, for him to see, she just knows she is.
But you don’t get a medal for making the right choices. She doesn’t know why it surprises her so much that he has this philosophy. Maybe because it’s so similar to her own, yet so different at the same time. She’s always been taught that doing the right thing was its own reward, that she shouldn’t expect to be praised for it all the time. Yet, she was also taught that the right thing wasn’t easy for everyone else, that she ought to show understanding and compassion for those who didn’t live up to the standard that she set for herself. It was a strange contradiction, one that she’d never bothered to examine too closely. She supposed it surprises her that in actuality he’s the one less willing to compromise his morals than she is. Which makes her think… But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different? “You want to know the part that I’m most ashamed of?” she asks quietly. “It’s the fact that I thought of myself as the exception. That it didn’t matter if he thought that way about other people as long as he didn’t think it about me. That’s…that’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be.” She takes a deep breath, before admitting, “I should’ve ended our friendship a long time ago, I know that. But knowing that it was a long time coming doesn’t make it any easier, you know?”
She almost laughs. “Please. I’m not some saint. I get angry, same as anyone else. And the hatred and prejudice do get to me sometimes. But at the end of the day, I don’t want to let someone else’s actions dictate the person I am. I can’t choose how people treat me, but I can choose how I respond to it. And I don’t want anyone else to have that kind of power of me.” Her eyes soften and she returns his small smile. “No one’s perfect, James. It’s like you said, all we can do is do our best. I hold you to a higher standard than I do other people. I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s because I see who you are when you’re at your best. The kind of friend you are, the way you stand up against the blood purists. But that’s not exactly fair to you, is it? I’ll try to be better about it from now on,” she promises.
Before she’s even made her point about Sirius, James’ mouth is open, ready to come to his best friend’s defense whole-heartedly. Sirius is the bravest person he’s ever met, he’s had to make the hardest choices just to be good, and he won’t ever let anyone tell him otherwise, not even Lily. But because this is her, and because she seems to be willing to listen to him, he listens before answering (a very rare occurrence, if you ask anyone who’s ever met him). He huffs; of course he loves Sirius. But then he frowns, because Sirius would never, and Lily predicts this reaction too, so he decides to just stop reacting and start listening to what she’s trying to say. She’s too smart for him, this conversation feels like like a constant challenge, one where she matches him every step of the way, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but that may simply be because he’s so used to having the last word.
And obviously she’s so smart she finds the one way to put things that shows him just how exactly it must feel, and maybe explains why she seems to be arguing and arguing for the worth of someone he’s never seen as anything other than despicable. “Are you saying Snape is your Sirius? Because I’m sorry for you, in that case,” he answers, but his tone is light, almost joking. He still wants to argue that it’s not the same; but something about their fragile dynamic makes him hesitate. “I understand, I do. I do,” he repeats, maybe trying to convince himself more than her. “I can see why you might be the one person, against all common sense, who’ll always find an excuse for his behavior. And I won’t push you, not because I agree with you, but because I think this might a case of let’s agree to disagree - which I’m definitely not used to, in case you didn’t know. But I still don’t think Sirius and Snape are comparable in any way. Because Sni-Snape was always that way, whether or not you could see it. I can’t begin to imagine what you must have felt when he called you that word. But you and I both know he’d been doing it to others long before. And so the betrayal isn’t so chocking if the guy you’ve always liked, or Merlin forbid, loved, was always a twat,” he says looking down at his hands, which he still doesn’t know what to do with. “Maybe there’s a part of me that’s angry at you, too, for being friends with him,” he adds while his voice lowers, almost shyly. “Maybe I hold you to a higher standard, but I feel like I wouldn’t forgive anyone if they were friends with a guy like that. Because it means you’re complicit in his bullshit, if you’re letting him say those things. Doesn’t it?” he looks up at her, hopefully, almost hoping she’ll prove him wrong because he doesn’t like the conclusions he’s coming to.
He doesn’t know what is it that makes him do it - doesn’t know if there’s a single thought going through his mind, or just his body acting on pure instinct, fully expecting to receive a hex in response. But in that moment he grabs her hand, lightly, and looks straight into her eyes. “Hey, don’t. I won’t spend a minute listening to you find a way to twist his prejudice as somehow being your fault. Or as somehow making you a bad person too. No way, no. You’re human, Evans, oh no, big reveal! You’re human and you cared about someone and he treated you alright for a while, until he didn’t. That’s all there is to it, now as hard as it is, all you’ve got to do is stop making excuses.” Also, I don’t blame you for thinking that; you are pretty dang special indeed, he thinks to himself, barely catching the words in his throat before they make it out.
Feeling drained and more vulnerable he ever has or ever wants to feel again, James leans back into his chair, dropping her hand back on the table, and tries to smile along with her. “That you do - I have bruises to attest to that,” he says with a grin. With a joking frown, he decides that this nonchalant, humorous territory feels much safer than the road they were headed down with this conversation. “I mean, are you sure? According to you, I sound pretty ‘perfect’ indeed. What was it you called me again? ‘Gryffindor’s golden boy,’ ‘talented,’ ‘loved’? Oh, and I forgot the best one-- handsome, was it?” he answers with glee. “Sounds like I might be worth those higher standards after all. So don’t worry about that one bit, I’ll just have to try and live up to them” he finishes, extending his arm over the chair next to him. @lilyxcvans
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