Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just beat bludgers. Harry Potter belongs to J. Rowling.

Iris's ire

She made him happy whenever he saw her. That was why the distance forming between them this year made him angry. It was an impotent rage born of frustration. He could not very well talk to her about it and had no other friends he felt comfortable talking to. Not about something this personal. That was why he could not quit dark arts. It was the only outlet he had for his anger.

And he had been angry a lot lately. It was easier being angry than being afraid. And truth be told, he was terrified. They had been at odds so much lately and it felt like he was losing her- and that was terrifying. Even more so as he realised, that he cared for her more than a best friend should. He had not told her. Of course he hadn't. Her friendship was his lifeline, he could not risk it especially not now, when it suddenly seemed so fragile. He had always thought that it was the one solid thing he could depend on, but now it seemed to be a rapidly crumbling sandstone. He knew she felt it's crumbling too, they both blamed it on each others housemates. Maybe their bond truly was the only solid thing in the world, slowly crumbling under the weight of universe. But they had made it work for so long that they would hold it with sheer stubbornness if it came down to that. Nobody could be as stubborn as Gryffindors and Slytherins after all.

Either way, he was in love and everything seemed to be against them. He was in love, but he was no Romeo and didn't know how to tell her. All he felt was was pure rage as he saw that brat Potter ask her out again. He was in love and for all these, who felt it necessary to tell them off for simply being friends, she could have been named Juliet.

But out of all these things he only admitted to himself that he was in love. That he loved a beautiful, clever, skilled, talented, kind, forgiving and witty witch. It was the twenty third of September and that was why he waited patiently by the door to greenhouse number 3. This was their tradition. This was their unique brand of rule-breaking.

They would meet here after class and sneak into the greenhouse. They would watch higanbana bloom and harvest potion ingredients, while talking about everything and nothing at all. And when the sun set and they grew weary, they would sneak back to the castle and visit the kitchen. They would share her favourite meal, while playfully arguing about whether it is stupid or not to call higanbana, spider lily. It was perfect.

He called out a greeting as soon as he spotted her. She smiled at him. She had already done away with her school tie but had put on a working robe. Very practical.

He quickly cast silent alohamora and opened the door for her, As he slipped into a playful half-bow and gestured for her to go in first his hand brushed against some smooth velvety fabric. He draw back in surprise, The fabric must have briefly tangled with his fingers as it fell. And suddenly there stood Potter. The fabric, or more precisely invisibility cloak, laid in a heap between them.

She loved him, how could she not? She wasn't stupid- she knew things were terrible for him at home and then, when they had first come to Hogwarts, their dreams crumbled. She remembered how she had wanted to be in same house as him- instead they ended up in houses with a rivalry of legendary proportion. She wanted to see him fully relax but was instead treated to an even more closed off version of her best friend thanks to their yearmates. He was disappointed when she had been sorted into Gryffindor, but he did not tell her so. Instead he had told her, that he should have known, that she was, after all, a red magic lily. She must have looked confused, while she mumbled about her tie clashing with her hair, because that autumnal equinox he showed her vividly red magic lilies. It had become a tradition to invade the greenhouse and see them. Somehow, they never got entangled with the bullying toerags, while they admired lilies, that no one called innocent or angelic- that was until now.

She stared at Potter with shock and disgust. What a creep he had to be to follow behind a girl under an invisibility cloak. How could he?! But her own rising anger was nothing compared to Sev's. He did not yell. It was worse than if he did. His voice was as venomous as basilisk fangs and as cold as Azkaban. If looks could kill there would be nobody to bury, she was sure of it. Suddenly she was afraid of him. This wraith with unforgiving eyes looked nothing like her Sev, whose eyes lit up whenever he spoke of something he found fascinating and who developed his short retorts into sharp jibs or cutting comebacks that hid their insulting nature in honey.

Almost without meaning to she ducked into greenhouse. The click of door closing behind her went thankfully unnoticed by the two boys. She was supposed to be brave, so why was she afraid of Sev? It did not make any sense to her. He was her oldest, dearest friend, her secret love. He was not even angry at her. He was angry on her behalf so why was she afraid? She shivered, it must have been the coldness, she had seen him angry before and it was always like a flame. She had seem him so mad she wouldn't have been surprised if the only thing left on the receiving end of his glare was pair of smoking shoes. But she never was this afraid, maybe just a bit, when he was so apoplectic with rage that he could not string together coherent sentences, yet still held his own against the toerags.

She remembered, when she first told him, that he was her iris. It was the summer after their first year. She had explained to him, that if he was going to call her higanbana or some other name of that flower, she would call him iris. She said it was because he told her about magic and Iris is messenger of the gods in Greek mythology. But now she remembered a different meaning of iris. It was often called after slavic god Perun. She smiled gently, how fitting for him. Sev, the be bearer of good news and the god that smites you with lightning.

Her musing was interrupted by Severus' entrance. He was still tense, his eyes were a far cry of how they had looked when she met him before the greenhouse. Where they would have been lit up with joy, they burned with bitter resentment, She squared her shoulders, she was a lioness, she would not let the likes of James Potter spoil her name. She smiled sweetly and took his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. As a bit of tension left his body her smile broadened.

"I still don't get why someone would call such a pretty flower after such an unseemly creature," she said and mock-shuddered. "I don't like spiders, they have way too many legs."

She counted it as a win, since left corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

"Well, they do keep away pests just like spiders," was his mild reply.

"They did not seem to keep Potter away."

"But he never did enter the greenhouse, did he my red magic lily?"

"True, but you know, if you are going to call me that, I am calling you my iris, don't you?"

Sometimes she was afraid of him. Sometimes he wondered how anyone could be so gentle. Sometimes everything seemed gloomy, but they loved each other. The red magic lily and the messenger of gods, who combined the rainbow into elegant black. Always.