All Right, Evans?

Chapter 13: Unforgivable

Friday, 7:00 P.M.

Snape sat alone in his dormitory, staring up at the green velvet canopy of his bed, brooding over yesterday morning's events.

It wasn't his fault, he told himself for the thousandth time. How was he to know that Bellatrix would use his curse on Lily? He shouldn't be blamed for it. As far as he was concerned, Lily had just latched onto this information so she could have another reason to resent him, another reason to think James Potter was better – was worthy...

He scowled as he thought of Potter, the way he'd ordered him to pretend Lily didn't exist. Who was Potter, Snape wondered, to tell him what to do, to act like he had jurisdiction over who talked to Lily Evans?

Bet she wouldn't like that, he mused, remembering how she'd reacted whenever he said something disparaging about Potter and his friends in regards to her. She'd said that she wouldn't let them get to her, that she knew Potter was arrogant and she didn't care that he fancied her.

Well, Snape had known that was a load of waffle for awhile now, considering how chummy she and Potter had become. More than chummy, really, since Potter had it in his fat head that he had some claim on her. Snape couldn't help but think that perhaps the only reason Lily hadn't fallen for any of Potter's rubbish before was because of him; now that they weren't friends anymore, she was free to give in the same way everyone else in this God-forsaken school had.

He kicked at a bedpost to relieve some of his irritation. He wanted to stop obsessing, but how was he supposed to when every time he tried, it seemed that they all had another run-in? It was impossible to keep it out of his head when there was always some fresh new memory for him to stew over. That wouldn't end, either, he knew, thinking of how angry everyone was – Bellatrix, mostly. None of them would be the first to back down, and Snape knew too much about the Gryffindors to expect them to do so, either.

They were all prepared for war.

"Where's Snape?" Bellatrix demanded of Avery and Mulciber, who were playing chess in a corner of the Slytherin common room.

Avery shrugged. "Up in the dorm, I expect," he said, not taking his eyes off the board.

"He's been rather unpleasant lately," Mulciber added. "Figured we'd just leave him to it."

Bellatrix scowled and slammed the chess board shut, scattering black and white pieces across the table and over the floor. A few of the knights' horses neighed loudly at the disturbance, and a queen shook her fist angrily up at Bellatrix, who ignored her.

"What was that for?" Mulciber demanded.

"I've about had it with you two," Bellatrix snarled. "You think that nothing matters, that you can just sit around and act like everything's fine, never mind that we've got Mudbloods and blood traitors hexing us left and right –"

"It's not like we're not doing anything about it!" Avery protested. "You got Evans a couple of weeks ago, didn't you? And Rodolphus got that Pettigrew bloke, and –"

"And we were still humiliated by the lot of them!" Bellatrix said, thinking of her formerly bald head and Rodolphus's resemblance to a giant insect. "We're not doing our jobs if they think they can keep winning duels. We're too soft, and Snape's not helping!"

Mulciber returned her scowl. "What do you want us to do about it?" he asked. "It's not our problem that he's got such a hard time cursing his old Mudblood friend."

"Make it your problem," Bellatrix hissed. She'd about had it with Lily Evans and her gang of protectors, and she wasn't going to stand by while Snape continued to let them slide. "Don't just 'leave him to it.' How can Rodolphus and I leave the Dark Lord's business in your hands next year if you're too stupid and lazy to take care of it?"