-SEV-

"I don't get why we're here."

Reese looked at me with a withering glare. "You think I do? Mulciber told me to get you and show up at Gryffindor quidditch trials. I wasn't about to say no, was I?"

"I guess not."

"Anyway, Evans is here."

"What!?" I immediately started scanning the crowd, and spotted Lily's red hair next to Mary McDonald's brunette curls. "Just a sec," I said to Reese, and started making my way down to where Lily was sat.

If she really was here, watching the trials... that could only mean that she was watching Potter...

"Are you sure he's trying out today?" She was saying.

I frowned. Of course Potter was trying out. How could he not?

"Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure, Lily."

"Good. Because if he isn't-"

"He is. You two are a perfect coup-" Mary paused. I vaulted the previous row of seats and moved along until I was far away from Lily and Mary.

"Sev!?"

Shit.

I pretended not to hear.

Bad idea.

"Severus Snap-"

"Oi! Snape! Over here!"

Thank fucking god.

I spun round to see Mulciber beckoning to me with Reese next to him, Avery and a bunch of other Slytherins next to him.

Before Lily could say anything else, I vaulted the next five rows of seats and sat next to Reese.

"I have never been so fucking glad in my life to hear Mulciber yelling my name," I muttered to Reese, who smirked. He understood Muggle swearing because his mother was a Muggle.

"Okay, we're planning to mess up the Gryffindor trials by booing and making noise. Got it? Just scream at them and throw off their game."

"Why?" I muttered.

"Because," Mulciber continued, giving me a steely look, "We want to keep Gryffindor fighting with us. The fight is continuing and we're going to win."

Potter strutted onto the pitch five minutes later, and I happily joined in the booing (although I got some furtive looks from Lily). Potter's stride was so arrogant, I could just see quidditch captain written across his smug features.

He started speaking to the people trying out with vigorous hand gestures. They split into groups and two groups moved to the side while one group remained. Potter reached into a crate a took out a quaffle. He handed it to the first person, and everyone shoved each other to get in other line behind them.

Each person went up to the goals and shot at the three huge hoops, helped by boos and cat calling from us. Everyone who had been unsuccessful in scoring more than three out of five was sent off, and the remaining six or seven were set aside as Potter called what must have been the keepers over.

One keeper positioned at either goal, and three chasers aside, they set off passing the quaffle to one another and tackling it from the other side, then trying to score with the keepers there. Every time a chaser tried to score, the keepers rotated. After seven or eight rotations, my voice was getting sore, and Potter called the keepers over, choosing the best two and stationing them at opposite goals, then choosing the three final chasers.

He then called over the beaters and put them in pairs, with bats, rotating them into the game every five minutes or so.

I glanced forward to where Lily was sitting. She was avidly watching one set of goal posts. As the chasers neared, I saw her gasp and then cheer as the keeper saved the goal.

I squinted.

Mark West was keeper at that end.

Scowling, I looked back at the pitch. Potter had narrowed it down to four beaters, and was instructing them on what to do. Then he called the keepers over and pointed at West. Lily squealed and cheered again as the other keeper sulked off, and West punched the air with a fist and yelled.

I scowled more, and booed even louder as he went to one set of goals, the chasers took to the air, and the beaters began their rotations.

Eventually Potter chose his beaters. With more booing, the final team made their way into the changing rooms. There would be a party in the Gryffindor common room tonight, Potter leading it, no doubt.

I also had a creeping suspicion that Lily would be getting to know Mark West a lot better tonight. A sinking feeling erupted in my stomach, pulling all the feeling out of my body and making me want to crawl under the seats and die.

I've got no chance.

The moment I said okay to helping Avery out that one day, in third year, the moment I'd joined their gang, that was when I'd lost my chance.

Life isn't fair. The way I see it, if there is a god, he makes three kinds of people.

First there's the rarest type of person - the good. Those are the people like Lily Evans who are so perfect you can't even begin to fathom their existence.

Then there's the bad. There's a few people like this, more than the good people. They're the James Potters. The bullies.

Then there's the majority of people - people like me - the bullied. We're the ones that get tossed around by the bad, and pitied on by the good.

We're the underdogs.

I'm a speck of insignificant dust, and Lily Evans is the whole universe.

What would the universe care about a little piece of dust?