Ficlet: The First Mistake (James, Severus), PG-13
Title: The First Mistake
Author: westernredcedar
Summary: James Potter saved Severus Snape from a werewolf. Really. He did.
Characters: James Potter, Severus Snape
Rated: PG-13 (language)
They’d ended up in a tangled heap at the base of the tree.
James had never actually touched Snape before, and a small part of his brain was surprised to discover that the greasy Slytherin’s body was just a warm as anyone else’s; he had always imagined Snape’s pasty white skin to be icy, like the nasty little git’s soul.
“Get off of me, Potter, let me free.” Snape was pale and shaking as he yanked his robes out from under James and fell backwards on to the grass, panting.
Cool dew was seeping through James’s robes and trousers. He shivered as he caught his breath, then pulled himself to his feet.
The tree above them was rigid and unmoving. James was suddenly aware that he could still hear a dull growling down the passageway behind them.
“We have to move, Snape.”
“What the hell was that?” Snape asked, still sitting stunned on the ground, staring at the dark hole they had just crawled out of.
“You really don’t want to know. If we don’t move, that...thing will come out of that hole and attack us. So come on.” James grabbed Snape’s wrist, slick with fear and dew, and dragged him backwards away from the tree.
The stubborn idiot resisted, digging in his heels and spinning around on the ground rather than pulling himself to his feet.
“Unhand me, Potter. I can move on my own,” Snape snarled.
James released the thin wrist from his grasp and Snape fell back onto the grass, kicking his feet out, his arms flailing, like a turtle flipped onto its shell.
James almost laughed at him, but then he heard a growl, this time much closer.
“Fuck, Snape, get up now!” James yelled, and he aimed his wand at the knot at the base of the tree.
Snape had finally righted himself, and was scrambling on all fours away from the willow. As soon as he cleared the branches, James levitated a twig and shot it like an arrow towards the knot in the tree truck. At contact, the serpentine limbs of the willow swayed again, ever so slightly, in menacing calm, blocking the view of the passageway. The growling ceased.
The two boys stood side-by-side for a moment staring back at the peaceful-looking tree, breathing hard. James peered over at Snape, and noted that the pallor was not fading from his face. He appeared about to keel over.
“You should sit down, Snape,” James said. “You don’t look good.”
Snape swayed on his feet as he said, “Lupin is dead. That thing killed him.”
James hated Snape with a special, unreasonable passion that had started small and petty, and flamed into an inferno over the years, but even he felt a flash of pity for Snape in that moment. He looked devastated, eyes blank and staring, thin lips hanging open. James was almost tempted to put a comforting hand on the other boy’s shoulder for a moment.
That moment passed quickly, however, and was replaced with an image of the laugh his friends would all have over this in the dorms later, when he described Snivellus’s pathetic whimpering over his dear, dead Lupin. Even Remus would get a laugh out of that one.
“He’s not dead, Snape,” James said. He could hear mocking anticipation sneak into his own voice.
“That was a werewolf,” Snape said, still breathless and staring at the tree.
“Yes, it was, and Remus is not dead. He’ll be back, staring down misbehaving first years by morning.” James stood back in silence and let his meaning sink in through Snape’s granite skull.
James could almost see the creaky wheels turning in the greasy git’s head. Gods, he wished Sirius was here to watch this.
“That was Lupin?” Snape phrased it as a question, but James did not answer. In fact, with an icy chill he realized he might have done better to keep his mouth shut and gone straight to Dumbledore to explain.
“I...no, he...” James stuttered.
“Black told me to follow Lupin,” Snape said, turning his dark, cold eyes to James.
“And what? You do everything Sirius tells you to do?” James said. He had started slipping down into a crevasse, and was unable to stop himself.
“Black tried to kill me.” Snape’s eyes brightened. He looked almost gleeful at the realization. “He tried to murder me. Black’s finished here.”
“You weren’t meant...” James tried, but he could not get a firm grip and continued his slide.
“If I wasn’t meant to be killed, why the heroics to drag me out of there, Potter?” Snape positively glowed with triumph. It was repulsive.
“He didn’t...you weren’t...” James attempted.
“Save it for Dumbledore. And the police,” Snape sneered over his shoulder as he went, and James could only watch him go.
Poll
Author: westernredcedar
Summary: James Potter saved Severus Snape from a werewolf. Really. He did.
Characters: James Potter, Severus Snape
Rated: PG-13 (language)
They’d ended up in a tangled heap at the base of the tree.
James had never actually touched Snape before, and a small part of his brain was surprised to discover that the greasy Slytherin’s body was just a warm as anyone else’s; he had always imagined Snape’s pasty white skin to be icy, like the nasty little git’s soul.
“Get off of me, Potter, let me free.” Snape was pale and shaking as he yanked his robes out from under James and fell backwards on to the grass, panting.
Cool dew was seeping through James’s robes and trousers. He shivered as he caught his breath, then pulled himself to his feet.
The tree above them was rigid and unmoving. James was suddenly aware that he could still hear a dull growling down the passageway behind them.
“We have to move, Snape.”
“What the hell was that?” Snape asked, still sitting stunned on the ground, staring at the dark hole they had just crawled out of.
“You really don’t want to know. If we don’t move, that...thing will come out of that hole and attack us. So come on.” James grabbed Snape’s wrist, slick with fear and dew, and dragged him backwards away from the tree.
The stubborn idiot resisted, digging in his heels and spinning around on the ground rather than pulling himself to his feet.
“Unhand me, Potter. I can move on my own,” Snape snarled.
James released the thin wrist from his grasp and Snape fell back onto the grass, kicking his feet out, his arms flailing, like a turtle flipped onto its shell.
James almost laughed at him, but then he heard a growl, this time much closer.
“Fuck, Snape, get up now!” James yelled, and he aimed his wand at the knot at the base of the tree.
Snape had finally righted himself, and was scrambling on all fours away from the willow. As soon as he cleared the branches, James levitated a twig and shot it like an arrow towards the knot in the tree truck. At contact, the serpentine limbs of the willow swayed again, ever so slightly, in menacing calm, blocking the view of the passageway. The growling ceased.
The two boys stood side-by-side for a moment staring back at the peaceful-looking tree, breathing hard. James peered over at Snape, and noted that the pallor was not fading from his face. He appeared about to keel over.
“You should sit down, Snape,” James said. “You don’t look good.”
Snape swayed on his feet as he said, “Lupin is dead. That thing killed him.”
James hated Snape with a special, unreasonable passion that had started small and petty, and flamed into an inferno over the years, but even he felt a flash of pity for Snape in that moment. He looked devastated, eyes blank and staring, thin lips hanging open. James was almost tempted to put a comforting hand on the other boy’s shoulder for a moment.
That moment passed quickly, however, and was replaced with an image of the laugh his friends would all have over this in the dorms later, when he described Snivellus’s pathetic whimpering over his dear, dead Lupin. Even Remus would get a laugh out of that one.
“He’s not dead, Snape,” James said. He could hear mocking anticipation sneak into his own voice.
“That was a werewolf,” Snape said, still breathless and staring at the tree.
“Yes, it was, and Remus is not dead. He’ll be back, staring down misbehaving first years by morning.” James stood back in silence and let his meaning sink in through Snape’s granite skull.
James could almost see the creaky wheels turning in the greasy git’s head. Gods, he wished Sirius was here to watch this.
“That was Lupin?” Snape phrased it as a question, but James did not answer. In fact, with an icy chill he realized he might have done better to keep his mouth shut and gone straight to Dumbledore to explain.
“I...no, he...” James stuttered.
“Black told me to follow Lupin,” Snape said, turning his dark, cold eyes to James.
“And what? You do everything Sirius tells you to do?” James said. He had started slipping down into a crevasse, and was unable to stop himself.
“Black tried to kill me.” Snape’s eyes brightened. He looked almost gleeful at the realization. “He tried to murder me. Black’s finished here.”
“You weren’t meant...” James tried, but he could not get a firm grip and continued his slide.
“If I wasn’t meant to be killed, why the heroics to drag me out of there, Potter?” Snape positively glowed with triumph. It was repulsive.
“He didn’t...you weren’t...” James attempted.
“Save it for Dumbledore. And the police,” Snape sneered over his shoulder as he went, and James could only watch him go.
Poll