Florus Severus
The sun was bright and hot and sunshine filled the yards of Hogwart, casting pleasant golden beams between the Whomping Willow branches and making the afternoon a perfect time for the students to play outside.
It was a day that made one think of bright things, that made people eager to work, eat, sing, dance, play…anything, so long as they became a part of the humming, active life around them. Birds that were nested in the eaves of Hogwarts castle let high notes vibrate from their tiny throats to float along the slight breeze, which puffed up hair and robes and blew away the worst of the heat.
It was just after lunchtime, and the students were clustered together under the ancient, twisted oak trees, preferring their tranquil shade to being eaten by an angry Whomping Willow. The mixed colors of the Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw houses, among others, were like bright flashes against the green glass. Boys and girls poked each other with their wands and showed off their trivial spells, laughing and joking and chattering.
A black, shadowed figure came out from under the awnings of the castle walls and went swiftly across the lawn, smooth and utterly silent. Unobserved by the hundreds of young eyes that were darting everywhere as the children socialized, the figure came to stand behind an oak that was near the group.
The man crossed his arms, a disattisfied look on his face. He normally spent these hours planning the next lessons and perhaps concocting a potion of his own, but something in the sunshine had just…spoken to him. Despite his own good judgement, he came out, expecting to find nothing. As yet, that was exactly what he had found.
His lips tightened, his stormy black eyes gazing over the children. Some seemed to feel the intense look, glancing over their shoulders for a nervous second as if they sensed the presence of their Potions Master.
Professor Snape wondered what childish fantasy these daydreaming little brats were coming up with today. Something completely left-field and idiotic should do the trick. He was not dissapointed.
"I," a girl he remembered as Polly Winterbloom, a Ravenclaw student, began, "am a Rose."
"What?" Harry Moore asked with confusion as he loosened his Ravenclaw tie, "what does that mean?"
Polly rolled her eyes. "It's a game, stupid." She poked her friend, Sarah Riley. "What flower are you, Sarah?"
Realization dawned suddenly as the children, ever eager to talk, flooded her with answers. "I'm a Death Bloom!"
"I'm a Carnation!"
"I'm a Callor Blossom!"
"I'm a Red Bud!"
"I'm a Sunflower!"
"I'm a Moonflower!"
Snape didn't really hear any of them. He listened to other answers, far, far away…
"Me? I'm a Whomping Willow. WHOMP!"Sirius Black laughed, smashing Remus Lupin to earth with a rugby tackle. Not in the mood for jokes, Lupin shoved him off angrily.
"I'm Nightshade. Eat me, and die!" Jared Cokester threatened.
"I'm a Tiger Lily!" Lily Evans added, smiling almost to herself.
Severus Snape drank in her voice, sitting almost all the way behind the tree as he strained his neck around to get a glimpse of her red hair. It was always hard to get a seat near Lily, particularly since that meant a seat near James Potter.
As if reading his thoughts, James spied the lanky black hair, pale face, and glittering, dark eyes that leaned out of the tree's shadow. "Hey, Snivelly…what flower are you?"
A dozen eyes turned on him. Severus gulped and sat back, trying to relax his body even as his mind fought against the panic of losing sight of Lily. "Me?" Expectant silence. Oh, common, Serverus! You're supposed to know every bloody plant in Hogwarts…look at your potions grade…common…one plant!
But his mind was completely blank. By speaking or silence, it made no difference, he was about to be ridiculed.
"Oh-oh…he's tongue tied again. Hello, Snivelly, are you ok? Something wrong with you?"
"Dumb question, James." Sirius pointed out, to the applause of laughter from the other students. Lily looked displeased, glancing angrily at James and then turned a look of pity and scorn on Severus.
What did she want him to do? Fight back? Fists, wands, or words? James beat him in all categories, simply because he was so aggressive and quick, always gaining the advantage because of his words, which made Severus stutter and lose his temper, lose his cool. Potter always managed to catch him up before he could use his wand, hiding it somewhere. Potions and spells were laid out nicely, with complete instructions and a certain timetable and always the same. They were safe. Fighting with Potter was not.
"We're still waiting, Snivelly." A boy hooted out.
Severus flushed.
"Oh by Merlin's beard! Is that color I see in his milky face?" Peter Pettigrew said, causing a fresh wave of chuckling.
Losing patience with Severus' continued silence, James leaned forward and gave a sharp yank to Severus' black locks. Severus gave a howl and aimed a swipe at him out of reflex. James backed away, palms out. "Ye Gods, it moved!"
Everyone was laughing now. Lily had her face in her hand. A new mixture of emotions, of fear, of embarassment, of rage, and frustration simmered within him. He was failing Lily. He could never fulfill her expectations. And James Potter and Co were not helping.
"Will you just shut up and leave me alone?" He spat.
Sirius grinned. "You've really roused him, James. Look, his head's gotten all hot. He needs to cool off."
No…
Forgetting his precious dignity and even his wand in his sudden attack of fear, Severus turned around and dove towards the bushes on all fours, hoping to somehow avoid James Potter's wand. It didn't make a scrap of difference that he had a wand too; they had done this to him too much, he never even considered fighting back, only escape.
More hoots and catcalls as he felt it, the inevitable tug as his ankle rose and dragged him into the sky. "Gotcha!" He heard James exclaim. Severus kicked frantically. He knew it would do no good, but he couldn't help it. The blood rushed to his face as he looked down and was suspended, vulnerable and helpless, between the oak's branches and a mass of unfriendly humans below.
His face burned with shame and his eyes stung with the effort to hold back helpless tears. He couldn't fight back, he couldn't call for help, and Lily…Lily saw.
"Now, who wants to see me take off Snivelly's trousers?"James gave a lopsided, good-looking grin at the chanting children.
Severus clutched at his belt, but the trousers were gone even as his fingers snapped onto thin air. His grey boxer shorts were fully exposed. Laughter, shrieks, hoots, and always, the smirking face of James Potter, burned forever upon his memory.
And the dissapointed face of his darling, his beautiful, his precious Lily Evans.
Rage. Helpless rage whirled inside him, aching in his head, threatening to force its way out either as bitter tears or violent screams. He clawed at the air, longing for nothing better than to tear the wand out of Jame's hands and mar that smirking, good-looking face forever, to break his neck and hear him sigh out his last breath and die.
There was nothing but laughter, cruel, bubbling laughter that was like vinegar on a wound, drowning him in the hatred and terrible spitefullness of children. His eyes widened as James grinned, releasing the spell and the ground rushed up to meet his face…
Professor Snapes had not even twitched a facial muscle during his remembrance. He was still behind the tree, the sunlight was as bright as ever, and the children were still talking, although now it was a bet on the coming Quidditch Tournament.
Calm, collected, and cold, Snapes crouched down slowly, his short yet graceful fingers closing perfectly on a thin green stand. He applied pressure and pulled upwards, his senses keenly attuned to the resistance on the part of the root as it clung stubbornly to its earthy passages, the moisture as cell walls in the plant collapsed and gave way, and the tension in the stem surface as it stretched.
Suddenly, perfectly, easily, it let go. He stood up and turned, back towards the sunlight, watching his shadow spill across the ground.
He held the plant up in two fingers, remembering the name it had. He had not chosen a flower that day; he chose one now. A bitter, sardonic sneer twisted his face. "Floribus Severus." His eyes full of hollow, frail laughter, he bent forward and blew.
The white propellers stripped the seeds off the flower and flew away on the breeze, leaving the Dandelion bare and broken. Snapes held it a few minutes longer, staring thoughtfully at the empty, dead looking plant. Then, he dropped it very deliberately to the ground, where it was lost among the grass blades.
"Floribus Severus." He repeated, turning to stride back to his dark Potions Laboratory. "All its chances, all its goodness ripped away in the wind. Yes, that is my flower."
But all its chances were not blown away. As Snape returned inside the dark castle, the white propellers drifted down to earth. The precious seeds they carried seized their chance, and bravely struck out roots, to bring forth golden blossoms.
FINIS