Author's Note: So I wrote this on my phone during a horribly long car trip (holiday was worth it) and I decided to post it because Lily being, like, a total bad ass is one of my favourite head canons <3

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A THOUSAND INNOCENTS

1975, Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, midnight

"I," Lily Evans said, her face drawn tight with fury, green eyes flashing like poison as magic made her fiery hair crackle like a live flame, "am so fucking sick of this shit."

Severus debated taking a wary step back from the furious young witch. Lily was a terrifying, terrifying person and he would laugh in the face of anyone who said differently. At just fifteen years old, Lily knew more curses then most of the Slytherin seventh years— she just knew better then to use most of them (well, the registered ones anyway— the ones they created together, such as sectumsempra, were a whole different matter). And besides, Lily certainly knew better then to get caught.

There was a reason that he'd been so convinced she'd end up in Slytherin despite being a muggleborn, after all.

Though, he thought, wincing as his careful retreat caused his injured ribs to throb painfully, it was probably a good thing that she hadn't.

Lily's righteous fury immediately melted to concern, her sharp green eyes picking up his badly-concealed tells with the ease that came from experience. "Oh Sev," she said, her bright eyes turning brighter-yet from unshed angry, helpless tears. "Was it those awful seventh years again?"

"Yes," he admitted, knowing better then to try lying to Lily (the consequences were... highly unpleasant, to say the least). "They don't like that I hang out with a 'mudblood'." The two fifth years rolled their eyes at the derogatory name— it wasn't like they hadn't heard much worse, growing up in Cokesworth. Both of them had been introduced to the finer arts of slurs, swears and name-calling at a young age and, in Lily's stated opinion, weak insults thrown by pimply-faced pubescents strutting around wearing their easily-shattered egos like crowns had nothing on the suggestive comments leered at her by the overweight, over-muscled drunkards and let-go mill workers.

(And she wasn't exaggerating about the 'easily shattered' part— Severus took a lot of pleasure in watching Lily take down bullies twice her size with just a flick of her flaming hair, a handful of words pointed enough to verbally eviscerate her prey and a cold-as-death look from her Killing Curse-green eyes that was sharp and cutting enough to flay skin from bones. It was a thing of pure beauty to behold)

Back in their first year, Lily had rather incredulously asked if she was supposed to be offended by being called a 'fancy' word for muggleborn when she'd been getting worse from Tuney and all her petty friends plus the neighbourhood boys (who she'd been beating at the weekend football games from about age eight onwards) since before kindergarten. Severus had just shrugged— he'd gotten offended on Lily's behalf once, back when they were nine and a boy had called her an 'uppity, bleeding twat', and Lily had left his ears scorching about how she didn't need a knight in shining armour and Malcolm was just pissed that she'd been picked before him in sports at school earlier that day.

He loved Lily but she had a very intimidating temper.

("Redheads," Tobias Snape had commented one time when Severus had returned home still shell-shocked, with a sympathetic look and a slow shake of his head. It was one of the only bonding moments Severus remembered between he and his dad).

"So what exactly did those little shits do this time?" Seethed Lily, her voice yanking him from his trip down memory lane and back to the present. She looked enraged enough that Severus half-expected things around them to start catching fire at any moment.

"They just tossed a few curses at me," he answered his best friend vaguely, keeping a wary eye on her clenched fists. That arrogant Gryffindor tosser, Potter, had once described Lily as a 'beautiful, delicate lily-flower' and Severus had almost laughed out loud at his obliviousness. Sure, Lily might look all delicate like a porcelain doll, petite and baby-faced with her big, bright doe-eyes, but her thin knuckles were decorated with a spattering of ropey scars from punching boys twice her size and the Evans family might not live at Spinner's End, but the sharpness of her cheekbones and slenderness of her limbs came from hunger, not genetics.

Lily Evans was from Cokesworth; she was a latchkey kid, just as much as he was— her mother worked double shifts as a housekeeper and cook for a wealthy family in the wealthier neighbouring town and her father was gone more then he was home, working for a company that cleaned building sites of hazards across the country. There was no room for 'delicate' in either of their childhoods— the kids of Cokesworth grew up hard, fast and learned to look after themselves. Even Prissy Petunia, the prim, primping cow, had once given a boy a blood nose when he'd tried to steal her bracelet (Lily had then rained fire and vengeance on the one responsible for bruising her sister's knuckles).

"'Just a-' are you bloody kidding me!? 'Just a few curses' my arse! Sev, I've seen you take punches to the ribs without batting an eye— right now you're flinching and wincing every bloody time you move!" Lily shouted, hands on her hips. "You tell me the truth right now, Severus Tobias Snape, or you had better start praying that the gods have mercy on you, because I bloody won't!"

Severus cringed, this time not because of any pain. "Macnair hit me in the chest with a blasting curse," he admitted. "He... I think he's got a Dark Mark, Lil. And... buggering hell, if the curse had hit my head it could have fucking killedme. Five of my ribs were broken— five! One of the other seventh years, Narcissa Black, had to heal them!"

Lily paled. "And you can't go to Slughorn?" She asked, her voice suddenly much smaller with most of her anger having drained away, leaving behind only fear. For all that her anger often made him want to wet himself, Severus suddenly found himself desperately wishing it was back. Unfortunately, the answer to her question wasn't one that would help cheer her up.

"Sluggy's useless," he muttered sourly. "They've all got too many connections and I'm just a lowly halfblood with a bit of talent for potions."

"You're a genius at potions," Lily corrected him with a fierce glower. "And fine then! Fine! If Slughorn won't do anything, then we will."

"We can't kill our classmates, Lil," Severus reminded her. She rolled her eyes and he was more relieved then he'd admit to see that the fire had returned to her bright eyes.

"Obviously— well, not yet anyway," she huffed. "Once we've graduated it will be a different story; we can join the Aurors and hunt down all those fuckers, make them regret ever turning their wands in your direction."

"Aurors arrest Dark wizards," he reminded her and the sharp grin Lily gave him in response was just plain wicked.

"Haven't you heard the rumours that they're authorising the use of the Unforgivables against Death Eaters?" she asked 'sweetly'. "Because Edgar Bones's older sister Amelia works in the DMLE and he says that the rumours are true. And besides," she added, with a flick of her fiery hair and an anticipatory glint to her Avada Kedavra-green eyes, "you don't actually need to use Dark curses to cause fatalities— duels are just so hectic, you know, so busy and wild and chaotic... in that sort of fast-paced environment, it would just be so, so easy for accidents to happen."

"You terrify me," Severus said bluntly and with no small amount of admiration. Lily laughed, the sound bright and gay, before her mood visibly dimmed again and her smile vanished, replaced by an unhappy, downward tilt of her mouth. Her inner-fire seemed to have been doused and Severus, once again, hated it.

"But before then, I think... I think we're going to have to break up, Sev." She said quietly. "Very, very publicly break up."

"We're not actually dating, you realise," Severus pointed out, ignoring the twinge of aching hurt in his chest that had nothing to do with blasting curses in a well-practiced manner. Lily rolled her bright, clever eyes, her fire thankfully flaring to life once more in the fierce set of her mouth.

"Yes, yes, I know that," she huffed. "What I mean is, after the OWLs are done we're going to have to have a very loud, very passionate, very messy end to our friendship. With lots and lots of witnesses. And drama." She paused, considering. "And you should probably call me a mudblood at least once. Publicly reaffirm to your Housemates that you actually believe all that rubbish."

"Lily," Severus stared at her wide-eyed, absolutely appalled. "I— I don't believe it! You know I don't!"

"I do know, Sev," Lily said, softening her voice as she reached out to clasp onto his hands with her own slim, calloused ones, nails bitten short in a nervous habit he knew she'd never managed to quite train herself out of. "The problem is, so do they. It's why you keep getting cursed— you need your housemates permanently on your side, not turning on you the moment you're in the Slytherin common room, and we both know that they won't be while we're still friends. And it... it scares me, Sev. It scares me how you're always getting hurt by them and you just said so yourself— Macnair could have killed you! We have to get on top of this; we don't have a choice!"

"You will still be my friend, though, right?" Severus asked quietly, trying (and failing) to hide how suddenly very, very afraid he was.

"Always," Lily vowed fiercely, stepping forwards and wrapping her arms around him to hug him tight. "Always, Sev."

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Hogwarts grounds, post OWL exam

"Leave him ALONE!"

Potter and Black looked round and Potter's free hand immediately jumped to his hair. From his trapped position on the grass with violently pink soap bubbles streaming from his mouth and over his face, half-blinding him, Severus couldn't actually see who it was who'd yelled or Potter and Black's reaction, but he'd recognise that voice anywhere— especially when raised in familiar, fiery rage.

Lily had arrived. And she was pissed.

(So was he— he'd been minding his own fucking business when Potter, Black and their sycophants had cursed him out of fucking nowhere, like he wasn't stressed enough after the OWL exam)

"All right, Evans?" asked Potter, the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature. By this point Severus had managed to blink away enough of the bubbles that he could see what was happening and he wouldn't deny that the sight of Lily, looking at Potter with every sign of great dislike, was a balm to his currently shredded nerves.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated fiercely. "What's he done to you?"

"Well," said Potter, appearing to deliberate the point, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..."

Many of the surrounding students laughed, Black and Pettigrew included, but Lupin, hiding behind his book, didn't, and nor did Lily.

"You think you're funny," she said, colder then ice. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

"I will if you go out with me, Evans," said Potter quickly. "Go on ... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

Severus could feel the Impediment Jinx that Potter had hit him with wearing off and as he slowly regained movement he started to carefully inch towards his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," said Lily, lip curled.

"Bad luck, Prongs," said Black briskly, and turned back to him. "OI!"

But too late; Severus, a tad recklessly he'd admit (but it had been a very fucking trying afternoon), had directed his wand straight at Potter; there was a flash of light and he watched with great satisfaction as a gash appeared on the side of Potter's face, spattering his robes with blood. Potter whirled about: a second flash of light later, Severus was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal the old underwear he'd been stuck with that morning due to fucking Rosier setting his trunk on fire fucking again, because of all the fucking days for this to happen—

He could hear the students who'd gathered in the small crowd to witness his humiliation cheering; Black, Potter and Pettigrew were all roaring with laughter.

"Let him down!" He heard Lily shout.

"Certainly," he heard Potter reply. He had a moment to realise that whatever had Potter so quick to agree couldn't mean anything good for him before the spell released him and he ended up falling painfully to the ground in a crumpled heap. Hurriedly disentangling himself from his robes, he rolled to his feet, wand up, but Black shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!" and he keeled over again, rigid as a board.

Fucking four against one— weren't Gryffindors supposed to be the fucking noble ones? What fucking bullshit—

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily practically roared, the only true lioness in that House of cowards. She had whipped her own wand out now and Potter and Black eyed it warily— as they should.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said Potter earnestly and, despite the situation, Severus almost snorted— like anyone could ever make Lily do anything, what a joke.

"Take the curse off him, then!" Lily snarled.

Potter sighed deeply, then turned to him and muttered the counter-curse. Severus hit the ground a second time with a pained, muffled swear.

"There you go," Potter said to him, all magnanimous and smug and sneering as he struggled to his feet, trying to make sense of Lily's repeated meaningful looks and— oh bleeding hells, that was right; they were supposed to publicly 'break up' and, while unplanned, this wasn't a half-bad set-up.

Still, Severus hesitated until Lily narrowed her eyes threateningly at him, her wand twitching pointedly in his direction.

He actually valued staying in one piece, thanks.

"You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—" Potter was saying and he hurriedly interrupted before Lily's wand-tip strayed any further towards him.

"I don't need help from—" um— "filthy little Mudbloods like her!" He hastily shouted, rushing through the words a bit but hoping they didn't sound as fake to the onlookers as they had in his ears.

...apparently not (he questioned the intelligence of their classmates, he really, really did). Severus had to twist his mouth into a snarl to keep from smirking as everyone in vicinity seemed to gasp as one, all of them turning their eagerly expectant faces towards Lily in anticipation for her reaction. She didn't disappoint, her beautiful face turning to carved ice (she really would have been the best Slytherin).

"Fine," she told him icily, her green eyes suddenly infinitely sharper and more dangerous then shards of broken glass. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

Severus almost broke his act in indignation at the low-blow. The dangerously sharp glint in Lily's eyes informed him he'd just deal with it if he knew what was good for him. He did— almost ten years of friendship with Lily had taught him to always obey that particular glint.

Ironically almost, Potter was the one who reacted worst to the 'slight' against Lily (Severus knew better— Lily had trained such useless, outdated 'chivalry' out of him years ago).

"Apologise to Evans!" Potter bellowed, wand jabbing threateningly in his direction. Severus didn't bother responding because predictably, this set Lily right off— had he mentioned how much she loathed other people fighting her battles? Because it was worth at least another mention. At least.

"I don't want you to make him apologise," Lily snarled, rounding furiously on the bespectacled idiot. "You're as bad as he is!"

"What?" yelped Potter. "I'd NEVER call you a— you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can— I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK!" Lily spat before she turned on her heel and stormed away, her thick, fiery hair fluttering in her wake like a burning war-banner of victory.

This was the girl he would love forever, Severus thought, watching her ignore Potter shouting after her. This was the girl he would do anything for— and if she intended on taking on the Dark Lord's forces, then he would do everything he could to make sure she'd survive doing so.

He'd stain his hands with the blood of a thousand innocents if that's what it took to keep her alive.

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When, years later, Lily always seemed to bring the best intel to Order of the Phoenix meetings, intel that never failed to be accurate and often gave the Order the chance to prevent Death Eater raids and attacks and infiltrations instead of reacting to them, nobody thought to question her sources— not the bright, beautiful, brave Mrs Lily Potter.

And if anyone noticed that sometimes Lily's opponents seemed to be cut down from behind, as if they'd been cursed in the back by a trusted comrade, well, they never spoke up. Nor did they speak up about how Lily's opponents in general had the tendency to suffer accidental fatalities on the battlefield, often due to deflected spell-fire or Light spells overpowered in the heat of the moment.

Years later still, when Severus went to Dumbledore with information about the prophecy he'd overheard and passed on without realising its terrible significance, it was all-too easy for him to agree to become the old warlock's spy in the Dark Lord's camp— after all, he'd already been one since he was fifteen years old and just beginning to integrate himself into the ranks of the future-Marked in the Slytherin dorms, learning all their secrets and weaknesses in order to pass them on to Lily.

When he said he'd stain his hands with the blood of a thousand innocents if that was what it took to keep Lily alive, he had meant it.

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(When Lily had chosen to enable her best friend to go down that Dark path by publicly 'ending' their friendship and cutting his ties with a mudblood in the eyes of his fellow Slytherins, she'd known the consequences— but she'd loved Severus too much to let him keep getting hurt and if him joining the Death Eaters-in-training was what it took to keep him safe, then so be it. Whatever it took, she'd let her conscience pay the price for his safety, and what his safety would cost others; just let him live)

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1981, Hogwarts Headmaster's Office, aftermath of Halloween

"After all this time?"

"Always."

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