Disclaimer: I own AU and OCs the rest are JKR's imagination.

Plumeria

Walking around the quiet corridors of the sleeping Hogwarts, Severus Snape tried very hard not to smile. Smile. Such an uplifting action of lips. The smile that made his cheek stretch, a light blush- flare up and those dimples accentuate his sharp nose, that no one ever noticed, he was sure. For the most part of his pitiable existence, he made it certain, his face was hidden behind his long hair. Now, he thought of tying them up at the nape of his neck. It was liberating the first time he did it in the confines of his potion's lab. And it was hilarious that way, Remus Lupin reacted when he walked in.

Under his breath Snape muttered and then bit his cheek, "Pest, that mutt."

Could he blame that man, well not really, Snape was the only one of his age around this castle? That man had much like him spend several years in isolation. He really could no longer brush him off. Mostly the shabbily dressed DADA professor dropped by to chat. A simple harmless process of unburdening himself amidst the bubbling cauldrons and an absolutely mute unresponsive potion master. He would talk of Ted mostly. Though some days he was more depressed and heaved long sighs. Snape did not require to cast the legilimency spell to decipher that in those days the man mostly missed his Hufflepuff, auror wife, Late Nymphodora Tonks.

Stepping inside an alcove, he rested his back against the cold stone wall, while resting a part of his forehead on the equally chilling glass pane. He had lived like a recluse for so long. He thought his heart died with Lily, but then Harry Potter walked in. A replica of James Potter though not quite. He still found it hard to live with the fact that the young man had accepted him. Though they had a long way to go. A few days ago, he was rather surprised to receive a letter from Ginevra Potter. Apart from formal inquiries about health, she did ask if he would mind just in case, they could name any of their children after him. It had surprised him. He took two days to process the question. Spending in the company of the staff and their idle gossip, overseeing detentions. The people were used to his long spell of brooding over. If they wondered what caught him all withdrawn once again, they did not ask.

On the third day, he realized it to be something close to honoring him. It had knocked him hard enough that he had run to Minerva. He knew he had been ignoring Hermione, but this issue was too heavy compared to feather-like feelings that made his heart soar in at the mention of her name. He did collide with her at the Headmistress's office, but apart from a curt nod and a brief eye contact he offered her no excuse. Once the door had closed behind him, he sat in the same chair she had emptied just a while ago. Minerva watched him over the rims of her eyeglasses, but she too knew one should always wait for Severus Snape to speak first, especially when he was so worried.

At length he mumbled, training his eyes at the flames burning in the fireplace, "How do you handle honour?"

"Severus, it will depend on the premise of this sudden question, pray, elucidate."

Gulping down, lowering his head and schooling himself for the repercussions he was sure would come from her, he muttered, "Ginny Potter asked my permission if in case they were having children in future, could they name one of them after me."

The woman had exclaimed and had bent forward to hold his hands with her wrinkled ones. "Oh! Severus, that, it is indeed an honour. Imagine what that child would carry along with him, a legacy of the bravest man Magical World had ever seen."

Shaking his head, he had stood up and had started pacing up and down the room, "No, you don't get it! I, what about my cursed life, what about misery and rotten luck I have carried along with me."

McGonagall had stood right in front of the man, and gripped on his arms. Her eyes shone like fire, "Severus Snape, don't you dare underestimate yourself. That name of yours will be written in gold in the history of Hogwarts. Even Albus Dumbledore could not give so much for this school. Step out of the dark abyss you have locked yourself in and step into the sunshine. Boy, you are brilliant, I regret, I did not do much to help you through your student life, it is as much as Albus's fault as it is mine as it is Horace's. We were not there to help you when you needed it the most. I am sorry, and I am trying to make things better this time. Just shake away these growing clouds of self-doubt, this is unbecoming of you. If not for me, do it for your soul. Please."

The season's first quidditch match was between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Hermione Granger had arrived just moments before Madam Hooch had blown the whistle to start the game. Finding all the stands full, she had sat next to him. Even as his eyes scanned for the sneaky snitch, he enjoyed a million smells bombarding his senses. She had washed her hair; she must have had a soaking bath and maybe she took care of actually dressing up. He picked up the smell of cocoa butter, vanilla, tea, and apple, ink, wax, tanned leather, and could not help but smirk. The girl was trying hard not to look bored and had tucked her hands under her legs. He took pity on her, tilting his head slightly, he mumbled," Read the damn book, Granger, we all know how much you hate Quidditch!" He tried not to grin when she turned abruptly and her wide eyes connected with his mischievous ones. He enjoyed her faint blush. Indeed, there was a small handbook tucked inside her robes.

His Slytherins were giving a good fight, but things were not the same as they were while both Draco and Potter were in school. He missed that bite but just like for the others the changing times did not bother him much. A good competition always glorified a fair play. This new evolving generation was all about installing the notion of fair conduct.

It hit him then, the sweet subtle fragrance of rain, earth, and flower. He took in a deep breath trying to access its source. Looking down sideways, he saw them for the first time- two different varieties of frangipani, a radiant pink and a vibrant white with its depth glowing like the noontime sun. She had them, twirling around, within her petite fingers of her left hand. If those flowers were ballet dancers her fingers morphed into their apt partners, forgetting the game, he found himself caught in the lazy waltz, of flowers and fingers over the innocent page of an open book. She broke his reverie by bringing her hand up and he watched her tuck those flowers over her left ear. Peering at him, biting her lips, with a shy smile dancing over them, she signaled him to look down. He found her other hand resting over the book, a finger tapping under a marked paragraph. On top of the page the words "Plumeria or Frangipani" were written along with beautifully hand-drawn pictures of the several varieties of it.

Her finger guided him to the paragraph she wanted him to read:

"Aside from a natural toughness, the delicate look of the flower makes it a symbol of grace, wealth, and perfection across Asia...In the Hawaiian culture, the plumeria symbolizes positivity and is used in leis or to celebrate special occasions. When worn in the hair, the plumeria flower symbolizes the relationship status of the wearer. A flower over the right ear means she is available while one over the left means she is taken."

At that moment, his heart did burst with joy. He did clasp and unclasp his hands, and tried to still himself. But under his stoic features, he was bursting into millions of flames, rolling over like spring breeze carousing through fresh leaves and new flowers. This was the gift of joy. When he had dropped his hand to hold on to the bench he had been seating on, he found her small left hand already resting on them with those two flowers tucked between her fingers.

Severus Snape did what he thought could be the stupidest thing to do in front of the entire population of Hogwarts. He allowed his fingers to twine themselves along with hers, allowing his thumb to caress her soft skin, squeeze it at times, till the heavens thought they had been ignored far too long and burst into tiny drops of rain. For the first time that day, he did not mind losing the match, he didn't mind Minerva gloating about Gryffindor scoring highest points.

Bringing up his fingers close to his nose, he inhaled once again. He might have already done it over several times, making Pomphrey enquire about his health, "Did you catch a cold, Severus? Don't you dare undermine your health, like old times!"

He watched his breath mist over the glass as he spoke to himself," No Poppy, this is not due to cold, but due to the warmth of acceptance. And the promise of love hidden within it."

A/N:

Dear Batty,

I hope you are doing fine, staying safe, and fighting this horrid virus with the same intensity as I am.

Being stuck at home, having to do mundane things I get no pleasure from for the most part of the day makes me dull. It is when I write and when readers like you keep commenting, I feel like having the ultimate conversation, that my mind is hungry for. So my reply was just my way of sharing a conversation with you. Trust me, it felt nice to get to talk like this. Or my stories mostly make me feel like I am talking to bare walls with imaginary windows.

If anyone else wishes to join this conversation, I would be more delighted. Because right now, the trees outside are luckier because the birds perched on their many branches are chatting away about how blue the sky is and how clear the water of the rivers, ponds, and lakes are. And I am with my thoughts having monologues with myself.

Take no offense Batty and other reviewers who drop by and leave behind wonders for me, your words are worth millions because they make me want to write, each time I think I should stop and give up.