A/N: Snape and Dean...? What? OK, I'm gonna try to do a good job of this...Wish me luck and review!
Painting a Lily
Prologue- The Vial
Potions on a Monday. Dean Thomas' worst nightmare.
The bubbles of a lavender-coloured potion that was meant to be electric blue.
The greasy voice of Severus Snape, telling him he'd have to try his own potion at the end. The desperation of trying to get it right, not helped by Hermione whispering ingredients and method into his ear. The pressure of OWLs weighed heavily on him as he struggled against the putrid fumes emanating from his cauldron.
The sweat, dripping down his neck, as he raised the vial to his lips. The flash of pain, the floating feeling, the sensation of weightlessness. Nothing. Dean could breathe again. A quick inventory- he still had a head, four limbs, no gross mutations. He was fine.
In the year 1977, the second Dean stood in an empty potions classroom. At least, he thought it was empty, before he saw the young, greasy-haired boy sobbing in the corner.