The Lily and the Serpent
Chapter 7
A copy of the Daily Prophet was suddenly in front of Harry's face. He took it, the front page catching his immediate interest. It was a picture of his mother dancing with Professor Snape at the Yule Ball. The headline read:
LILY POTTER ALIVE—AND IN LOVE?
Harry stared at the words, mouth agape, and then focused in on the picture moving before his eyes. There was no denying that there looked to be a serious chemistry between the pair.
"Congratulations, Potter," said Draco's obnoxious voice, "I guess you stand a chance at passing Potions now."
Suddenly, Harry felt as if the whole school—not just Malfoy—was laughing at him. He turned bright red and stood up, pushing past Draco and leaving the room in a huff. Still clutching the paper, he marched straight to Snape's office.
Snape barely looked up from the notes he was taking. When Harry didn't speak right away, he said simply, "Can I help you…Mr. Potter?"
"Yes. You can explain this." He threw the paper down over his notes. Snape picked it up and glanced over it.
"…You want me to explain…a tabloid?"
"Read it."
Snape pulled a rolled up newspaper from his desk drawer. "I already have."
Harry said nothing, though he looked like he had a lot to say.
Snape set the paper down and leaned back in his chair. "What exactly would you have me do, Potter? I am not employed by the Daily Prophet, in case you haven't noticed."
"Look, I just need you to tell me—"
"Tell you…what exactly?"
"That there's nothing to this story."
"Really…And shall I also apologize for dancing with her? Shall I…seek your permission to speak with her from now on?"
"I've seen the way you look at her!"
Snape rose from his seat. His face remained calm and stern, but there was tension in his hands. "And it is a shame indeed that my looks should make you uncomfortable…But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you…I have no intention whatsoever of seeking the approval…consent…or authorization of a boy less than half my own age, most particularly regarding this subject."
"She's my mother. You're my teacher."
"Are you still trying to make a point?"
"Well you don't have my consent, if that makes any difference."
"It. Doesn't."
Harry stormed out of the office, positively seething. Snape watched him go with an unimpressed look, then returned to his desk. But he was more frustrated than he let on. Potter was a thorn in his side more often than not, but he was Lily's son. It complicated the relationship.
Snape exhaled and massaged his temples. He had been in such a good mood.
The first tournament event involved dragons. Lily sat next to Snape in the bleachers, wringing her hands. He had not wanted her to come, but it was important now for her to be seen supporting her son. But whatever the case, Snape was very much on his guard. There were plenty of ways for this situation to go bad.
A stylish blonde woman suddenly squeezed into the seat beside Lily, a floating notepad and quill at her side. "Mrs. Potter. How are you, dear? I'm Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet." She shook Lily's hand before Lily could even react to her presence. "I hope you don't mind, but might I ask you a few questions?"
Snape tried to dismiss her, but she wasn't going anywhere.
"Now now, sweetheart, hold your hippogriffs," she said to him, "I'll get to you in a minute." She turned again to Lily. "Now, firstly, everyone's dying to know, how are you alive?"
"…I was kidnapped and locked away in a house before…before You-Know-Who ever came to kill us."
"Who kidnapped you, darling?"
"I don't know." That was a lie, but she didn't feel like going into a lot of detail.
"And you were locked in this house for…thirteen years?"
"Eleven."
"I see. And so…where have you been the last two years, dear?"
"Recovering."
"Of course. And I suppose this dark fellow to your right has been…helping you get back on your feet?"
"Indeed, yes. I couldn't have done it without him."
Rita giggled a bit. "Well, that brings us to the really big question." She leaned in slightly. "Are you and this gentleman…an item?"
Lily hesitated, but started to shake her head.
"Come on, be honest," Rita urged, "There's no denying a certain spark between you two."
"…Severus is a dear old friend from my years at Hogwarts," Lily replied.
"A dear old friend…I see…And how do you feel about it, Severus? Would you say that your feelings for Mrs. Potter are…purely platonic?"
"I would say as little as possible to you…regardless of the subject."
"Oooh. You are icy. Well, I really must dash anyway, but we simply must do this again." She gave Snape a wink and left them, her floating quill writing like mad.
MRS. POTTER AND HER DEAR OLD FRIEND
The article still hinted heavily at a romantic relationship, but Harry was glad to see that the headline wasn't so dramatic this time, and it wasn't on the front page either. Maybe the worst of the Snape/Potter publicity was over.
The evening before the second event—which involved mermaids—Snape took Lily somewhere he had been dying to take her for two years now: Ollivander's wand shop. The poor thing had had to live without her wand all this time, and he hated her being so defenseless, not to mention inconvenienced. The old shop keeper nearly cried when he saw her, and when a wand chose her, he let her have it for free. Lily's demeanor brightened a great deal at the return of her magic. Snape could only wonder, how does she keep getting more and more beautiful?
That night, he helped her practice and re-learn a few spells. And what made the time even more spectacular was that, sometimes, if he wished, all he had to do was lean in and kiss her, and she would kiss him back.
It was almost 1:00 in the morning when he gave her such a kiss. It was meant to be a farewell. They were standing by the fireplace; he was just about to leave. But when the kiss finally ended, he muttered, "Will you marry me, Lily?"
He was nearly as surprised at himself as she was; he hadn't meant to think out loud like that, but now there was no taking it back. Then again, Snape didn't really want to take it back.
"…I…Sev, I don't know. It's a lot to think about…"
"You can take your time…I didn't mean to pressure you." His heart was beginning to beat very fast.
"No, I mean…I know that you love me…" She looked searchingly into his eyes. "…and I think I love you, too, but…I don't know if I can do it all again. You-Know-Who is coming back, and…weddings are more stressful than they seem, and…then of course there's Harry to consider." She ran her hand over her face.
He took it and held it tenderly in his own. "Lily…I would marry you…under any circumstance, any condition…I don't care what kind of wedding it might be…There doesn't even have to be one. Merely sign a piece of paper that states you are mine…and I am yours."
"What about Harry? I know well enough you're not over fond of him…That would be an issue." If she had to choose, she would always choose her son.
Snape knew this. "I will do whatever it takes…to think of him as my own son."
Everything fit. It was a good match, and a tempting arrangement. And though she'd grown used to solitude over the years, she missed the security of married life, the safe, warm feeling of waking up with someone next to you. With Snape, everything felt so natural; she hadn't thought of having a future without him. They were two broken people who make each other whole.
"…Let's do it," she said finally, a twinkle in her eye.
He exhaled suddenly, a surprised smile appearing on his lips.
"But only if we can work it out with Harry," she stipulated.
"Yes" was all he managed to say before he was kissing her again. His arms wrapped tightly around her and he lifted her off of her feet for a moment.
He would never have guessed that he could be so happy.
The third and final event, the maze, was just around the corner. Snape, despite all the excitement, had not given up his search for the culprit responsible for putting Harry's name in the Goblet. So far, however, there was little to go on—except for a few things that were missing from his inventory.
He was double checking all of the ingredients in his school supply closet when, quite out of nowhere, his left forearm began to burn. Startled, he let out a muffled cry. It was as if someone was holding a branding iron to his skin. Leaning heavily against the shelves, Snape undid his cuff shakily and pulled up his sleeve. The Dark Mark, which had become faded over the years, was now just as black and as bold as it had ever been.
"No…" he breathed, but there was nothing he could do. Voldemort was back.
Snape closed his eyes and leaned his head back miserably against the shelf. For a long time, he did not move, only breathed, and searched deep down for his courage.
