Decision
Severus Snape has never been one to rush through his schoolwork, but today, he will discover the value of cheating. Not the moral value, per se; rather, the efficiency the practice can offer to the impulsively lovesick teenager.
He will turn to his best friend (in convenience only, but a convenience friendship is better than enmity) and ask to copy his essay. Avery, never truly concerned with morals, will agree immediately – on the condition that Severus does his Potions homework for a week.
He will accept. He will deem it worthwhile.
Severus will become impatient halfway through his essay and give up. He will believe that the lost House points will be more than made up for by the results of his mission.
Severus will get dressed without regard to how he looks; after all, it won't really matter. The gesture will be enough to make up for his graying robes and scuffed boots.
Severus will run a comb through his hair, though. He won't want to look "slimy," as the always-articulate James Potter claims he is. He will not have her think he doesn't care just because his clothes are not as immaculate as that straight-laced rich boy.
He will stop in front of the mirror on his way out of the common room, but turn away quickly. He will experience the same thrill of uniqueness he has always felt when comparing himself to the other students, but, at the same time, he will recognize the same features about which he has always been teased: the hooked nose, the dark eyes, the thin-lipped mouth. He won't want to lose his nerve before he even reaches the store.
Severus will simultaneously feel the rush of the wind and ignore it in an effort to get to his destination as quickly as possible. The cold will not bother him; his entire being is warmed by the thought of his love's reaction.
Tonight, she will make her choice.
During his walk, Severus will encounter several of the people he likes the least, including Sirius Black, but he will brush off their comments; they won't matter once she sees what he has in store for her.
Severus will reach the flower shop just two minutes before it closes and will berate himself for not leaving earlier. Why did he bother to do his homework? Homework won't matter soon.
Severus will recount his money for the fiftieth time as he searches for something that will do her justice – or come close, at least. He will finger each coin with the care due to them. He will select the largest arrangement he can find in his price range, then try desperately to convince the lady at the counter to give him a discount. She will be eager to go home. She will accept.
Severus will walk back to the castle with an uncharacteristically light step. He will pull the flowers tight against his chest and breathe in their scent. They will remind him of her – not quite as perfect, but close enough. It won't matter, of course. A flower truly rivaling her beauty will never exist.
The castle doors won't seem nearly as heavy as Severus pulls them open. He will run a self-conscious hand through his hair, then laugh out loud as he remembers another dark-haired boy's tendency to do the same. James Potter will finally get what is coming to him.
Severus's journey to her will be forgotten in an instant when he spots her standing across the Hall. Her hair will be tied in a taut bun, her eyes lined with mascara. She will turn in a perfect half-circle and see him, humility and pride meeting on his face.
Her perfect features will contract for a fraction of a second, but her good nature will win in the end, and she will break away from her friends and walk slowly toward him. Severus will give her a small smile and clear his throat as she draws nearer.
"Happy Valentine's Day."
She will take the flowers – magically enlarged lilies, product of a thousand odd jobs and a hundred skipped meals – and bring them to her perfectly narrow nose. As she inhales, Severus will mourn the loss of her gaze as her eyes close momentarily, then rejoice when emerald meets onyx once again.
She will smile, then, a gesture that hasn't been directed at Severus in years, and step towards him.
"Thank you, Severus."
"You're welcome."
The rest will be a blur of hugs and kisses and professions of true love, and Severus will understand, for the first time, why people are able to forsake the Dark Lord.
Every element of Severus's story is coming true. The wind has no effect on him; he thinks of what he is to gain rather than what he has sacrificed; the flower shop is luckily, miraculously even, open for a precious two minutes more.
Severus fingers the coins with an aberrant tenderness. He fingers the flowers with the same care. The lilies are more than adequate.
Severus barters with the woman in the store and feels a rush of warmth when she reluctantly agrees. He hands her the money and leaves with the physical manifestation of his hopes clutched in his hands. The wind is rushing around him, ineffectual against his mood.
The doors guarding Hogwarts seem to melt away as he pulls them open. Severus crosses the floor to the Great Hall, oblivious to the stares of strangers. He spots her, more beautiful than he could have imagined, her hair up and her eyes bright.
The gorgeous creature is walking toward him. Severus wishes for a split second he had run his hand through his hair once more, but it doesn't matter now...she is drawing closer...closer...
"James?"
Already, she is eager to forsake him! Severus's smile grows wider as he imagines the look on James Potter's smug face when she utters those words –
"Oh, James, did you do this?"
And suddenly, Severus realizes that she is looking past him, and as he turns, the flowers fall to the ground, for he is staring into the face of James Potter. The arrogant toerag, the bane of Severus's existence, is heading up a procession of boys, all carrying enormous armfuls of roses.
"Yup. Cost me two hundred Galleons, but you're worth it."
And Severus, who has never even seen two hundred Galleons, watches as his one true love marches towards James Potter, her hand over her perfect mouth, her gorgeous eyes wide; he watches as James shrugs in some awful mockery of humility; he watches as James pulls her into his arms and shares with her the kiss Severus had always fantasized about –
Severus treads over the lilies and past the golden couple as James's army, in oddly flawless unison, drops their flowers and applauds. His stomach turns, not at the sickening sweetness of it all, but at the loss of his own Lily.
Severus vows never to look at another flower again.
Lily Evans saw him walk away that day.
She didn't seem him at first, of course; in retrospect, if she had, she would have chosen the simple arrangement over the gaudy display James had been far too proud of.
But she saw him leave.
She watched him walk over the simple bouquet, grinding the soft petals into the stone floor, and the juxtaposition of gentleness and anger frightened her.
Subconsciously, Lily drew closer to James.
Years later, Lily still remembered the lilies on the floor. She found herself reminiscing more than she felt was healthy, and as she did so, she could not recall the overreaching gestures James had orchestrated. She remembered only the sight of Severus's retreating back, the familiar slouch in his shoulders making his cloak seem ominously large.
Lily had left James early that night – he was occupied with his friends, anyway, and wouldn't miss her – to take a walk around the lake. The wind was cold, bitingly so, but she barely noticed it.
Lily vividly remembered trying to make contact with Severus over the next few months; one part of her was always relieved that she hadn't, as she was unsure of what to say, but the other portion longed for the lilies on the ground, even as James showered her with the red roses she had never truly embraced.
Lily had always been at the top of her class, and that year was no exception. She received excellent marks, accolades from her professors, and a job offer from the Ministry of Magic – but she turned them all down, and as she looked back, she realized that it was James's doing. He had flung his arm around her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
"Honey, you never have to work. I've got enough money saved up to buy you a house and anything else you want."
She wanted a job, but she needed a husband. And so Lily Evans became Lily Potter, the beautiful, porcelain-skinned wife of the handsome, charming James Potter.
They purchased their first house almost immediately, and James furnished it with rose-red wallpaper and matching lampshades.
"Dear, red clashes terribly with my hair. I'd really prefer green."
"But Lily, green is just so – Slytherin!"
James had never been a fan of subtlety, and his romantic intimations over the next few years were indicative of this impulsive quality. Lily loved him, but at the same time, she couldn't see herself staying there, with his ridiculous attempts at drama and his overzealous plans.
"Dear, you have to know your limitations."
"I have no limitations, Lily. I'm James Potter."
When her son was born, Lily imagined, for a split second, that the black hair adorning his tiny head was smooth and shiny. The next second, though, James had run his hand through it, and little Harry sported the same cowlicks his father was so proud of.
"There we go – now he looks like his old man!"
A man without limitations, Lily reasoned, could not be expected to put limitations on his son. James allowed Harry to ride a broom before he was six months old. He presented Harry with a wand in a fit of inspiration (and later, he admitted, drunkenness) and taught him to say "Dumbledore" before he was able to say "mama".
And so it came to pass that Lily Potter could not look at her son without seeing her husband, and vice versa. She imagined dealing with one individual, a messy-haired, long-nosed child with a steadfast rebellious streak, and wished, until she chided herself for it, that the two were, in fact, a single person. That would have made for fewer conflicts.
Love, of course, kept Lily at home. Regardless of the trouble her husband and son put her through, she was plagued with moments of clarity throughout each day, during which she gazed upon her boys and knew, without a doubt, that she would die for them.
It wasn't long before Lily was given the opportunity to die for them. The noises outside roused her on Halloween night, and she ran to Harry's room. James followed her, but then gasped as the door banged open.
"I have to stop him! Take Harry and go!"
"No, James, you can't –"
"I can too, Lily, I can! Take Harry and run!"
And as James fell prey to his limitations, Lily wondered why hers had run to the door. Surely another man, a different man, would have understood the futility of his impulsiveness and stayed with his wife and child.
As green light blinded Lily, and she imagined holding her husband's hand instead of clutching her wand feebly in her own, she marveled at the fact that, even in what she assumed was death, she could not ignore the smell of lilies.