Vindicated 1/?
Author: Regency
Title: Vindicated
Summary: In this life, Eileen Prince left her husband and returned to her family home with a young Severus. Now, he's 16 and a marriage has been arranged between he and the muggle-born Lily Evans. The problem is that neither knows the other is in love.
AN: The focus will shift between Severus and Lily throughout, but mostly on Severus. And, trust me, I know the chronological errors. I’ve just decided to make up my own thing based very forgivingly on what we’ve been told.
Disclaimer: Every character belongs to JKR. I’m just playing with them a bit.
Her breath catches when he steps out into the sun, a wraith out of place in the daylight. She knows him well--he’s always been a midnight creature: stalking this way and that, finding whatever mischief didn't stumble upon him first and tackling it with the pureblooded determination of his family name. He has always been trouble.
The tailored cape he wears floats in his wake like a procession--no one may follow, only he may proceed. Even if he weren’t of such a noble house, she’s sure he'd walk alone. There’s no one like him, he has no equal, in wit, in brilliance, in that darkish twinkle in his eyes. He is the only one and he’s slithered behind her sharp defenses.
She drops her eyes as he seeks her out. He is easily the tallest one in their year and she is one of only three heads of fine red hair to pepper the quad this afternoon. The professors have taken pity on the students. Spring is near and everyone's desperate for the lick of the wind on their face; no one's in a mindset to learn, or to teach. Afternoon classes have been cancelled for the day and the castle is nearly empty. She'd sought refuge on the grass under a tree near the Forbidden Forest. Seeing him, feeling him, she wishes she'd ducked into the library stacks instead.
Holding her wand in one hand, she pretends to be practicing Fourth-year charms, a ridiculous idea since she mastered all of those in second-year and he knows the very same.
Those eyes have found her and she senses his appraisal, sitting upright as her mother would have her do and straightening her skirt to be a bit more presentable. Normally, she doesn't pay her appearance much mind, but when he's in this mood she can't help it.
He’s coming over.
She swears under her breath, damning her pale and freckled skin as it reddens. Wielding her Gryffindor bravery like a scabbard, she drags her gaze up to his face only to be forced to avert her eyes once more. The wind--damned, traitorous wind--has blown his untamed hair into his eyes and he looks positively dashing in his billowing cape, his silken robes, and this silken hair. Suddenly, her wand is a useless thing in her hands and the incantations she mastered months ago have evaporated from thought. She drops it and reaches for a book instead.
It nearly slips from her fingers when, kneeling on the red-and-gold striped blanket beside her, he touches her arm. He’s so close; his breath is only slightly warm blowing against her nose and it makes her smile, just a little.
The vindictive breeze makes her shiver. His eyes seem to brighten with concern before he wraps a slender arm around her shoulders. His cape settles about them and the cold is gone. Winter is leaving now; Spring has arrived.
Unable to resist for a moment more, she lays her head on his shoulder. His uniform smells faintly of Calming Draught, bringing a lazy smile to her mouth as she fades. No doubt he brewed it himself. She knows him well; he’d trust no one else to the task.
Another arms comes up and she finds herself nestled in the warm in embrace of the half-blood Prince. He’s speaking…something about his mother and grandfather and High Tea. She isn’t interested, but then again, neither is he. This is simply their life now.
He grunts and she realizes she must have said that out loud.
She frowns but doesn’t protest. Perhaps he should never know that it’s the life she prefers.
His signet ring glows and catches her eyes as it always does--emerald green set in silver, mercurial serpents inset in the shape of a “P.” It is the family crest and he wears it well on his finger. In time, it will accompany him in the shape of a walking stick, when he becomes the head of his family. In time. And, on that day, she will be his faithful wife.
Even if he doesn’t love her in the way that a man should love his betrothed, even if he doesn’t quite love her as she has come to love him. They’ll be together for the rest of their lives.
She feels Severus gently kiss her hair and she almost wants to cry.
It takes him a moment to find her when he steps out of the entrance hall. The daylight is brighter than he remembers and he just resists the urge to recoil in search of his beloved darkness: the dungeons. No, it’s been too long since he’s seen Lily and the stark image of her lovely face is fading from his mind. He needs to see her, just catch a glimpse of her flaming curls. That will hold him until he’s finished with Madame Pomphrey’s potions order. Then, he can get back to his life, get back to his fiancee. In the meantime, that will hold him.
He mutters to himself about the damned Weasleys and Prewitts, attempting to sort their ginger locks from that of his dearest. A moment passes before his eyes snag on the sight of lonely figure lounging beneath a tree. So close to the Forbidden Forest; the headmaster would disapprove. A smirk flits about his thin lips. Such a Gryffindor thing to do.
Lily seems unconcerned of any danger. In fact, she’s looks to be oblivious to the world beyond her wand and subject. Spells roll unencumbered from her lips and magic happens. He feels the pull of her power even from across the courtyard. That very power is what convinced his grandfather to approve of their mothers’ insane scheme. Yes, you shall marry the muggle-born, Severus. It will keep her safe and will benefit us in the long run. Why, imagine how powerful my great-grandheirs will be. Yes, the Princes will rise again.
He was nine, then. In his young mind, there’d been no concept of the future, of a family, of a life. All he’d known was that the nice little witch he’d met in the park was going to be with him forever. It’s still funny to him how marriage was a mystery back then but forever made perfect sense.
Seeing her so focused and serene is very nearly enough for him. He can almost slink back to his cauldrons and eyes of newt in peace. There are things he should be doing and no doubt the Potions professor will have something to say about his abandoning his assignment even for a minute, yet he can’t withdraw to the shadows so quickly.
Lily sits up from her repose, bottom lip slipping between her rows of lovely teeth as she adjusts her clothes as though she was waiting for inspection. Severus sweeps his eyes about the area in search of a teacher or worse, another boy. He frowns when his eyes set on the punishing banes of his existence: James Potter and his merry band of ruffians, the Marauders.
He feels his stomach drop and the urge to run farther than the dungeons, to seek out hell instead is bigger than he can handle. He can’t stand the idea that she would want that bully, the delinquent. Pureblood or not, James Potter and his sidekick, Sirius Black are the lowest of the low. Nevertheless, they don’t hesitate to try to make him feel even lower. It nearly works.
They won’t get the victory this time though, especially not Potter, since Severus has something that he couldn’t have if he gave every ounce of his pure blood. He has the rarest of blossoms, he has Lily Evans. Whatever clandestine flirtation is taking place between the two Gryffindors ends now.
Severus raises his chin defiantly--he thinks in vague amusement of his friend Lucius Malfoy--and strides across the green, the wind and his tousled tresses be damned. The tree is rising ancient and sturdy ahead and the Marauders are stumbling on to their next adventure, the moment broken with his entrance and grumbles of Snivellus and Git.
His Lily seems oblivious as she puts down her wand to reach for her Transfiguration textbook. Ever the bookworm, he wonders if there is even room for romance in Lily’s heart. If there is, she’s never bothered to reveal that to him. He’s slowed in his approach by the sting of his own thoughts. He was hardly four when she first befriended him and he’s never so much as heard her refer to someone as handsome in passing, not even the man she’s supposed to marry in two years’ time. Maybe she’s pledged her heart to someone else. Bile rises in his throat and he wants to expel the thought in a similar manner to his rushed breakfast.
However, that will have to wait. He’s made his presence known and the least he can do is say hello. His mother would tolerate no less. He calls her name gently with no apparent results. She doesn’t lift her head from her reading, leaving him unsure as to whether she’s ignoring him or altogether ignorant of his presence.
He drops to his knees beside her, anxiety creasing his features intensely. Tension spreads from her slender form and doesn’t alleviate his concern. He touches her arm and she springs to life, her book escaping her grasp for all of a second. Aware of him, she smiles that shy smiles he knows her for. Beautiful.
In that breath he recognizes goose bumps rising on her skin and the tremble of chill racking her. It occurs to him that Spring is still a few weeks away and that Lily has ventured out without a sweater. A sigh rattles him inwardly and he draws her close, silently clucking away at her thoughtlessness.
The sigh that next leaves him is one of supreme pleasure; she lies her head against his shoulder, her sweet-smelling hair cloaking his house insignia and for a moment making him disappear. When she continues to rock with cold, he draws his cape about them both, blatantly refuting rules of propriety any nearby teachers would see fit to apply. They are already promised to each other, what else can be said?
Still, he knows there will be trouble, trouble in the form of his mother’s omniscient expression and his grandfather’s sneer of displeasure. A family does not regain its standing by inviting controversy. His half-blood grandheir and his muggle-born intended canoodling beneath a mighty oak is not becoming of the Prince name.
“For this, mother and grandfather will surely summon us to High Tea at the Manor, don’t you think?” She responds with silence. “Won’t it be lovely,” he mutters sarcastically.
In a quiet, slurring voice, she whispers, “That’s our life now.”
He snorts, Some life. It will never be the life of James Potter, the life Lily truly deserves. After all his training and preparation to enter the world of Wizarding Society, Severus is disappointed to realize that he’ll spend the next seventy years regaining the ground lost when his mother married a useless muggle and his grandfather refused to bow to the likes of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Lily deserves to be the belle of the ball, the apple of every eye. She can’t be at his side and so she won’t be. They are to be husband and wife, the Unbreakable Vow is binding. He couldn’t free her of the obligation if he was selfless enough to be willing. They inhabit the same sinking, sinking boat.
There are so many days when he questions her love for him, questions whether it exists at all. At times, he thinks he observes a glimmer of affection in those depths the shade of garden leaves, but he can never be sure as she guards herself so closely.
No matter. There will be more than enough love in their union--even if none of it is love she feels for him.
She cuddles up against him unconsciously and he feels a swelling in his chest. Delicate and strong, she chooses to lean on him. Dropping a kiss to the crown of her head, he vows that it will be a choice she won’t regret.