This story would not have been possible without the best friend ever. She has an ongoing series called Letters to Riku (so check it out). She rocks! Inspired by Hogwarts Online II Spring Challenge.
Spring is Measured in Lilies
I, Severus Tobias Snape, admit it: I love spring time.
I always go out into the forests to collect potions ingredients, or at least that is the pretense I give to those meddling staff members. I swear; Minerva feels the need to stick that Gryffindor nose into everything. The dungeons are actually entirely comfortable for awhile, until I have to wait for autumn to make things bearable again. Summer is so bloody humid, and winter just makes the dank lower rooms and corridors the frozen version of hell. But the real reason I love spring, the reason that makes the year worth going through, is her.
Lily, dearest Lily- the light of my world, and the dark stain of my past. I loved her; no, I still love her, but I betrayed her. I called her a mudblood, an insult which she detested above all else. But I didn't stop there. I begged with her not to forsake me, but she wouldn't listen. Like a fool, I gave up. I took the blasted dark mark (damn idiotic thing) and turned her against me more than I had ever thought possible.
After all that I had royally screwed up, I couldn't just leave it alone, could I? No, I had to give the prophecy to the Dark Lord like some sniveling dog. I killed her; I killed her and that worthless husband that she loved! After all I have done to her and her to me, why do I love her? My friend, my confidant, my precious person. She had helped me through childhood hell and high water; she protected the last bit of respect I had for myself in my early years and my first five years of Hogwarts.
Voices, memories of a time before run through my mind as I'm struck with a sudden rush of nostalgia. I see them as if through a pensive, detached.
"Hey, Snape! Why are you hiding!"
"We're just having fun! I mean, you're only a little beat up!" A gleefully cruel laugh punctuates this.
"Yeah, maybe a few broken ribs at best! Why don't you go running home to Mummy?" More laughter sounds, mocking.
"He can't do that. Daddy would just make it worse!" They take great pleasure in pointing this out.
"Come out, Snape!"
"Leave him alone." The new voice is calm, a voice of reason in the senseless beating the other two are delivering.
"What, Lily? We're just dealing with the village trash." Irritated, he's annoyed that he's been interrupted.
"Severus is my friend, I won't let you hurt him!"
"What are you going to do, huh? You're just a little girl!" Taunting, the words spat out.
"Maybe this beehive will fall on you!"
"AHHHH!" And then a shriek, and a crash, and the sound of feet pounding on the ground as the others ran.
"Severus, are you alright?" her voice is gentle as she asks this, worried about her friend.
"L-Lily? Is that you?" His voice is pained.
"No, it's your conscience. Yes, it's me! Now are you okay?" she asks, exasperated, though still worried as she questions.
He's hesitant to answer. "Umm... well…"
A sigh, unhappy because she doesn't like to see him hurt. "It looks like they broke your nose. And maybe a few ribs by the way you're standing. We got to get you to a doctor."
"Hey, Lily?"
"Yes, Sev?"
"You dropped that beehive on those bullies, didn't you?" He is curious, wondering if she's like him.
"I guess I did. I don't know how though. I just thought protect and that beehive fell." She sounds a little confused as she says this, bewildered as to how she did it.
"Lily, don't think I'm crazy, but you're a witch." Hesitant, again, unsure if she'll believe him.
"I'm not warty with green skin! And I don't do weird rituals!" she protests.
Another sigh, patient. "Not like that. I mean you have magic. I do too, as well as Mum."
"Does anybody else know?"
"No, and we can't tell. But we can be friends together, right? Friends with a secret," he asks-hopeful, not wanting anything to change.
"Yeah, friends with a secret."
Lily always enjoyed the flowers, especially her name sake. I must admit as well, the smell of lilies bring some of my most cherished memories to mind. They do say that smell is the sense most connected to memories.
Warmth and amusement start to fill my memories. The detachedness is still there, but less noticeably.
"Sev, Sev! Guess what?"
"What is it, Lily?" He's patient, calm.
"No! You have to guess!" she says in a playful, sing-song tone.
"Um… did something happen today?" he asks, dryly amused.
"Well, I suppose you could say that. Today is the first day of spring, and that means that all the flowers will be out soon. 'Tuney doesn't really want to see them; she says that, hold on, let me get my Petunia voice, 'The pollen from those dreadful flowers gives me headaches, much like you, Lily.'"
"I'm sure the flowers will be lovely…unlike 'Tuney dearest'."
"Be nice, Sev!" she gently exclaims; just a friendly chastisement.
"I was very nice, I called her 'dearest'," he protests indigently.
The smack of the palm of a hand connecting with a cheek sounds.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Oh, you were just being you."
Coincidentally, I have a major dislike for petunias.
One spring, I attended a festival in Hogsmead with her. I really don't see the point in festivals, but if Lily was going, she would find a way to get me to come. As we were old enough, we got permission to visit Hogsmead.
I believe that is one of the only times I have worn no black on my person.
Slight despair followed by subtle jocund mood wash over the pensive-like memory.
"Lily, do we really need to go?" There is a note of hopefulness in his whining voice as he says this.
"Yes, and by Godric, Severus Snape, we will arrive in style."
"But, I hate parties." One last attempt at protesting.
"You will attend at least one local gathering if I have any say in it. It's the spring festival! Think, Sev, they might have a really amazingly absolutely undeniably awesome book booth." She's firm, convincing.
"Lily, I'll go, just don't-"
She cuts him off, "Let's get you some cheery robes!"
He sighs and finishes needlessly, "-make me wear colorful robes..."
"Sev! I always knew lilac was your color!" She barely suppressed a laugh as she says this.
"Merlin, Salazaar, hell I'll even take Godric, kill me now." A muttered prayer, distinctly disgruntled.
"It's not that bad. You look less gloomy, and besides, you look good with me." She adds that last bit partly for his benefit and partly for her vanity.
"Why do you get to wear green; I'm the Slytherin, remember?"
"Because it brings out my eyes. Don't you have any fashion sense? Wait, don't answer that; black button up shirts, slacks, and an over coat don't count as casual fashion." Friendly jeering, playful taunting.
"I wonder sometimes why I'm still your friend."
"Sarcasm suits you, Severus. And you are still my friend since you adore me. HA!" He gets a very clear sense of "so there" as she states this.
I don't think she ever realized how true her words were. I adored - no - I still adore, her. She was like her name sake- pure and lovely, gentle and clean, simple and gorgeous. It really is funny that a person so enthralled with spring would be born in winter. Luckily, we "fixed" this problem.
Joy and surprise veil the memory, like a soft cover on a precious belonging.
"Sev, I hate my birthday." This is out of the blue, a random statement amidst the companionable silence.
"Why do you hate your birthday? It is today after all. Did those idiot Gryffindors do something to you?" he says with fierce, protective anger, similar to that of a mother protecting her young.
"Um, no. And that spot of whatever you are thinking… I think… is already filled with Slytherins, thank you very much. I just don't like the date."
"Care to elaborate?" Wry amusement as he waits for her to explain.
"Well, it's just that everything is dead. I wish my birthday were in spring. Everything is blooming, animals are coming out and having babies, and it is just more beautiful to me."
"You know, if you really don't like your birthday, we could always just celebrate it in the spring." A logical, reasonable suggestion. He always was the brain(ier) of their duo.
"Really?" She's happy, she likes the suggestion, likes the solution that he's come up with.
"Sure. You, me, and a spring birthday. We'll start in April, okay? And we can celebrate this birthday and the next when spring rolls around." He always speaks kindly to her
"Severus... thank you."
This is the day that we would usually have had our private "birthday" party, April 30. I always gave her a lily bouquet. I am still giving her one this year.
James Potter Lily Potter
Born March 27 1960 Born January 30 1960
Died October 31 1981 Died October 31 1981
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
This grave stands there as a testament to all my mistakes. Lily, here is the bouquet you wanted. It has the lilies that always grew around Spinner's End. You know these are for you, but I'll let Potter take the credit as well. When I hurt him, I hurt you.
Happy birthday, Lily- my love, my joy, my light, my all. Happy Birthday, my eternal spring time.
I will love you always.