Chapter 7

Daisy Potatoes

Summer had wrapped its arms around the school year, refusing to let it out of the great tight choke-hold until it was effectively knocked out for a few months. The Leaving Feast was always a spectacular affair. Green, of all shades, coloured the Great Hall. Green banners embroidered with shimmery letters hung from the walls and flags adorned with slithering silver serpents were attached to the pillars, floating gently in an air current no one could feel.

The noise in the Great Hall was deafening. Excited chatter poured from the mouths of every being - living or dead . Well, everyone save for one Severus Snape, it seemed.

Severus lost track of the number of times he glanced at Lily Evans. It was the first time he had seen her in days. The last time had been when he tried to - no. He did not want to think of that. He narrowed his eyes. She had not accepted his apology. She had said that she did not like the path he had chosen - did not want to be a part of it. Severus sighed and looked down at his plate. He was unaware that he had professedly chosen a path.

Much talk had been circulating among the students of Hogwarts. Severus caught the whispers. There were talks of change and a new party fixated on helping the wizarding society remember The Old Ways - something that many seemed to want but hesitated to define with words. If the rumours - and Lucius Malfoy, for that matter - were to be believed, Severus could understand Lily's upset. The politicians were essentially attacking her. The word he uttered dully reflected the same. However, he could not understand the complete renouncement of their relationship. They were friends. He thought so.

Lily, seated with her friends at the Gryffindor table, conversed with an air of lightheartedness. The brown-haired girl to the left of Lily leaned towards her and whispered, a teasing smile in place. Lily's eyes darted towards the end of the table where James Potter and his trio of friends sat. She flushed crimson and slapped playfully at the girl.

Or maybe she's glad you're gone.

Severus clenched his spoon tighter.

Severus scowled and focused his attention on smashing the boiled potatoes he had absentmindedly placed on his plate.

"There's mashed potatoes if you wanted some."

Severus paused in his assault on the potatoes to glare at his roommate, Martus Avery.

"Yes," he hissed.

Avery tipped his head in mock reverence, placing his cutlery neatly beside his own plate. He pushed the bowl filled with the food item in question towards the still scowling boy. Severus snatched it up under one arm, promptly scooping spoonfuls into his conveniently cleaned plate.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Avery hummed in acknowledgement. His gaze lingered on Severus' face for moment, taking in the boy's countenance. Severus did not look well.

A flurry of movement at the entrance of the Great Hall caught Severus' attention. A group-yet-not-quite of students were making their way into the room. Their stiff posture betrayed their nervousness and strain for nonchalance despite the leisurely pace they maintained. Snickers from all corners of the room were directed at the strange mix of Gryffindor, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Nothing else could foster house unity more quickly and without much fuss the way tardiness could. A few students, seated safely at their own tables, glanced from the group to the Head Table with large grins plastered to their faces.

The teachers looked on. Each wore expressions so differing that there was no doubt the consensus was mixed. Professor Sprout tried to seem strict but could not help tittering at bit herself. And why not? There were no Hufflepuffs in the mix.

Just as the band of latecomers began to scatter to their respective tables, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. The miscreants stopped moving.

"A point from every one of you." she said, smiling. "Carry on."

Students - both seated and standing - looked at each other, confused. Was Professor McGonagall attempting at humour? Some students chuckled nervously while the latecomers scrambled to their seats.

Severus watched Regulus Black materialize from the crowd and make a beeline for him. He groaned halfheartedly. Severus was still not sure whether he minded Regulus' attentions. His eyes were drawn to Lily again, but he glanced away quickly - towards the younger Slytherin. He sighed. It is company.

"You're bound to give yourself wrinkles frowning like that all the time."

Regulus slid next to Severus on the bench, nodding to the Slytherins around him. His robes rustled audibly as he made himself comfortable.

"Adds to the general look." Severus put the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. He scanned the remaining dishes. A bowl of shredded cheddar appeared next to his plate. He sprinkled cheese on his potatoes and ate a spoonful of the mixture.

"No. It makes you look old," Regulus retorted.

Severus scowled deeper. He swallowed and turned sharply to the Black.

"Shut up," he said. "Where the bloody hell have you been off to? The Feast started ages ago."

"Well," Regulus began, smirking. "I - "

"Nevermind. I don't want to hear it after all."

"Oh! Come on - "

A collective laugh roared from the Gyrffindor table. Everyone turned their attention to the table. The more rash members of the Marauders stood on the benches. Waving their wands in exaggerated sweeps, they transfigured the napkins on the table into numerous pink daisies. Severus let out an exasperated huff at the applause that followed the feat. More wand movement resulted in the flowers dispersing in slow flight to all corners of the Great Hall. The delicate projectiles landed clumsily along each of the house tables, but that did not stop the blushes and squeals of delight emitted from a large number of witches.

Severus watched as Lily held her flower - a deep red daisy as opposed to the white scattered all around the Great Hall. Lily held the flower gently in both hands, a dreamy look cast over her features. The girls around her giggled and pointed at the red daisy. Lily looked up and her eyes caught Severus'. He narrowed his eyes. Lily paled for a moment before catching herself and steeling her stare. She turned away, responding to the prodding of her friends who were no doubt giddy over the Marauders - most likely the James Potter - bestowing such a gift to one of their own.

"Rather gaudy bunch, aren't they?" said Avery, holding up a flower.

Taking in his daisy-covered mashed potatoes, Severus silently agreed.