A/N: Though Severus revisits this subject briefly in this chapter, those readers who may have forgotten Severus' reasoning as to why he has returned to 1976 might wish to reread the first half of "June 1976, pt. 1."

Chapter Thirteen
October, 1976

Division of Magical Education
Ministry of Magic
Diagon Alley, London

Dear Mr Snape:

I am delighted to inform you that your Transfigurations O.W.L. score has been adjusted to 'O.' Congratulations! Your Ministry record will be updated accordingly and you will receive a full copy of your results within the fortnight.

Kindest regards,

Malfalda Hopkirk
Assistant Secretary, Division of Magical Education

Dear Lily,

At long last, I feel I am making headway in both my apprenticeship and my relationship with Master Jigger, which is to say that I may actually have a relationship with him. He has, finally, acceded that I may, in fact, be a qualified Potioneer, and we have embarked upon the creation of an original potion, marginally related to Combat Potioneering, about which I will say no more.

He is still, on the whole, humourless, demanding, and unyielding, but at least he no longer seems to believe me to be a complete idiot.

Speaking of which, I do hope your Potions classes have improved.

Sincerely,

Severus

Dear Severus,

A little bit. I threatened Potter with bodily harm if he bollocksed up a single potion, so he hasn't done any damage to my grades at least. (And anyway it's not like Sluggy would give me anything lower than an 'O' anyway, which is either flattering or creepy. I haven't decided.)

But Potter's the same as ever outside of class—always way too nice, like I don't remember how he treats people and like I can't see how fake he's being. He actually asked me to go to the Halloween feast with him and was seriously surprised when I said no.

So I was wondering if you might be able to meet me in Hogsmeade on Halloween, since you can't be my date to the feast.

If you can't that's fine. You don't have to. I won't be angry.

But I'd like to see you.

Love from

Lily

Severus stared at the parchment in his hand.

He pushed up his tinted glasses and stared at the parchment again.

Since you can't be my date to the feast…

Severus let the spectacles fall back onto his nose, and then he let himself fall back onto his rickety bed.

My date to the feast.

Severus released the parchment from his fingers, and it fluttered to the floor.

My date.

Merlin.

In retrospect, he should have realised sooner that Lily was interested in building an…accord with him. The parade of letters he could attribute to her being, as she had always been, his closest (only?) friend (and to her remarkable loquacity), but the lingering touches—as well as the two (two!) chaste kisses she had pressed upon him—spoke to a different objective.

But…for Merlin's sake, why?

He had a sour disposition and an unpleasant appearance (although he had, on occasion, been described as "striking" by overly-optimistic women). And, until recently (from Lily's perspective), he had been marching plainly off into the scaly embrace of the Dark Lord. Granted, he was intelligent, but not much more so than she. There was absolutely nothing, excepting their shared childhoods, that would appeal to—

Severus sat up and blinked.

He had been turning towards the Dark Lord. He had stopped. Lily had begun to show him affection.

It wasn't his dubious charms that drew Lily to him; it was, rather, her selflessness and indefatigable optimism. She clearly intended to continue steering him towards the path of Gryffindor righteousness.

Should he allow her to do so?

Severus fell back onto the mattress.

Associating with Lily Evans would doubtlessly attract attention from James Potter and, thereby, Albus Dumbledore.

Likewise, associating with Lily Evans—an outspoken Gryffindor and known Muggleborn, whose circle of friends had already been targeted by at least two future followers of the Dark Lord—might very well attract attention from his contemporaries amongst the Death Eaters; an underaged Potions apprentice might be written off as an uninteresting swot, but a blood traitor?

In essence, associating with Lily Evans would move Severus ever so slightly out of the precisely grey political position he had worked so hard to establish; associating with Lily Evans would mark Severus as at least sympathetic to the position of Dumbledore's Order.

Severus had no intention of being marked as anything.

And yet…

Severus flicked his glasses off of his face and onto the mattress beside him.

It was important for him to avoid attracting attention because he had to dispose of the Horcruxes so that the Dark Lord might be defeated.

This meant that he had to find them—the Diary, the Ring, Hufflepuff's Cup, the Blacks' locket, and, again, whatever the hell it was Harry Potter had found in the Ravenclaw Common Room—and create an alchemical means of destroying the damned things (which was, after all, the reason for his apprenticeship)—without the Dark Lord noticing.

No; "Making advances to Lily Evans" did not fit into Severus' plan in the slightest.

Severus rubbed his eyes.

But there was something—some not-yet-realised idea—

Severus sat up.

The Diary, the Ring, Hufflepuff's Cup, the Blacks' locket, Ravenclaw's artefact, the damnable snake, and Harry Potter: the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

At the time of Severus' death, every Horcrux—with the exception of the living ones—had been destroyed. Yet Severus had been flung back to 1976 for the purpose (it had to be the purpose—there had to be a purpose) of ensuring the Dark Lord's downfall.

Perhaps Dumbledore had miscalculated. Perhaps living Horcruxes were not so simple; perhaps Harry Potter's sacrifice was in vain, or perhaps Harry Potter was unable to sacrifice himself (unlikely for a Gryffindor, but still a possibility). Dumbledore wasn't infallible. Something must have gone wrong.

So, perhaps—

Perhaps the best way to ensure the destruction of the Horcrux inside Harry Potter was to prevent such a Horcrux from existing. And perhaps the best way to prevent the Horcrux from existing was to prevent Harry Potter from existing. And the best way to prevent Harry Potter from existing…

Well, it was to prevent the Potters from becoming the Potters.

Severus nodded once to himself and slipped his glasses back on.

To fulfil his duty—to bring down the Dark Lord—and for the sake of the Wizarding world—

Severus Summoned parchment and a quill and prepared himself to accept a date with Lily Evans.

Dear Lily,

It would be my honour.

Sincerely,

Severus

"And how, pray tell," Cadogan said, "would such an arrangement be of use to me?"

Severus blinked. "Was that meant to be an impression of me?"

Cadogan grinned and resumed wiping an ink spill off of the counter. "Maybe."

"It was terrible."

Cadogan shrugged. "You could tell, though."

"Only," Severus said, "because you pitched your voice an octave lower and mimed spectacles with your fingers. Consequently, there is now ink on your face."

Cadogan waved her wand at her face. Incredibly, the blotch of ink merely grew larger. Irritated, Severus flicked his wand at the offending stain, which promptly disappeared. Cadogan smiled. "Cheers."

"So," Severus said, "are you, in fact, willing to switch days in the shop with me? By all means, if you would prefer to mock me further, do continue."

Cadogan stilled the rag she was inexplicably using to clean the counter (though, given the accuracy of her cleaning spells…). "Oh, really," she said. "Where's that dry wit I've come to love and fear?"

"I left it in the laboratory."

"There you go," the harpy said. "In any case, what's so important that you just have to have Sunday free?"

"That is none of your concern," Severus told her.

"No?" Cadogan said. "You know, I don't have to switch with you."

"I have an appointment," he said flatly.

"With?"

Severus glowered at her.

Cadogan grinned. "With your redheaded lady friend?"

"That is none of your concern," Severus said again.

Cadogan lay her hand on her chest. "Ah, young love," she said. "I look back upon it fondly, now that I'm an old married woman."

Severus, exasperated, turned on his heel and opened the laboratory door.

"Wait, wait," Cadogan said. "I'm sorry. Yes. I'll work next Sunday, if you'll do next Tuesday."

Severus turned back around. "Very well," he said. "Providing Master Jigger is agreeable, that will be our plan."

Cadogan's eyes flew open. "You haven't asked Master Jigger yet?"

Melodramatic woman. "What would be the point of asking him before you had agreed?"

"What was the point of asking me before he had agreed?" Cadogan retorted.

Severus rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "Good day, Ms Cadogan," he said, and then he turned and descended into the laboratory.

Jigger was already there, and was in the midst of reading the research outline that Severus had given him the evening before. "Mr Snape," Jigger greeted him. "An interesting hypothesis. The lovage idea especially seems likely; I suggest you begin with that."

There was something to be said for a man who refused to waste time on frivolous social constructs like saying "good morning."

"Yes, Master Jigger," Severus said. "But, ah… Before we begin, I'd like your permission to switch days in the shop with Ms Cadogan next week, Tuesday for Sunday."

Jigger set the parchment down. "When did she agree to this?"

"Just now."

"I see," Jigger said. "Well, frankly, I'm just surprised it's taken you so long to use the day off you insisted upon last month."

When did…? Ah, yes, when Jigger had mistaken his request for clarification as a wheedling request for compensatory time. "Actually," Severus said, "I had forgotten about that. I had planned to ask if I might brew the stock potions on Monday, rather than Tuesday."

Jigger scowled. "I've said you may have a day and you shall have it, Mr Snape. I am a fair employer."

Severus idly wondered how Jigger defined "fair," but simply said, "Thank you, Master Jigger," and headed for the cold storage closet.

Dear Severus,

I'm so very glad! I've missed you terribly this term, really I have, like I can't even say.

Shall I see you at the Hogwarts gates, at ten o'clock? Sooner if I can sneak out. Just kidding. Mostly.

Love from

Lily

Severus stepped out of the Three Broomsticks' floo and, seeing Madam Rosmerta wrinkle her nose, promptly Vanished the few bits of ash he had scattered. The proprietor nodded, and Severus strode out of the pub and turned left, heading for the Hogwarts gates.

As he neared Hogsmeade station, he realised he had a small amount of soot on his new (old) robes (he had chosen to wear the one everyday set he owned in lieu of donning his apothecary uniform). He started to clean them—realised he was no longer in Diagon, and therefore his Trace might be in effect—realised he had always seen students using magic in Hogsmeade—realised there was no way the Ministry could hope to monitor underaged magic in Hogsmeade—realised he had already done magic in the Three Broomsticks—and by the time he reached Hogsmeade Station, he realised he was quite overthinking the matter, and cleaned his robes with a quick flick of his wand.

If Severus didn't fully know better, he would think he was nervous. Which, well. Ridiculous.

Severus climbed the hill up to the gates and, deciding he didn't particularly care to be seen by every single exiting student, hung back near a tree and waited.

The gates opened at promptly ten o'clock, and Lily Evans was the first through them.

Severus' heart did not leap, as that was a physical impossibility.

Lily walked through the Hogwarts gates and stopped after a few steps, her expression changing from expectancy to puzzlement and, alarmingly, to disappointment, before Severus realised what an idiot he was and stepped out of the tree's shadows, lifting a hand in greeting.

Lily's expression immediately brightened, and she headed toward him—accompanied, unexpectedly, by a dark-haired girl whose expression seemed far more "sceptical" than "eager for a Hogsmeade weekend."

Severus had just recognised the other girl as Lily's friend Mary when the two reached him. "Severus!" Lily exclaimed—and in what was less of a surprise to Severus than it would have been before Lily's most recent letters, she wrapped her arms around his ribcage in a tight hug. Severus' breath still caught.

Lily pulled back, her cheeks pink, and smiled up at him. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said. "Did Master Jigger give you a hard time about leaving?"

"I—we managed to come to an agreement," Severus said. Lily smiled. Mary, standing slightly behind Lily, glared at him over Lily's shoulder.

"Good morning, Miss Macdonald," Severus said, inclining his head.

Mary turned to Lily. "Since he showed up after all, do you still need me?"

Lily flushed crimson. "Mary! Don't be rude."

Mary shrugged. "You know I think it's a bad idea. And I know how his friends feel about girls like me—girls like us. So yes, I still think you're making a mistake, but since I can't stop you I'd really rather not watch."

"You're such a good friend," Lily said flatly. "Don't let me keep you."

Mary shot another glare in Severus' direction, and headed down the path, joining a group of Gryffindor girls on their way into the village.

Severus really couldn't imagine what had inspired Mulciber and Avery to hex her.

Lily watched Mary's progress, and then turned back to Severus. "I'm sorry about Mary," she said. "She—she likes to hold a grudge."

"I know the type," Severus said. Lily snorted and, after the barest moment's hesitation, linked arms with him and pulled him towards the village.

Other than Mary and the other Gryffindor girls, the few students who were about at this hour were mostly third- and fourth-year students for whom Hogsmeade was still a new experience (the older forms tended to have a bit of a lie-in on Sundays, Hogsmeade weekend or not). The village was decked in its Halloween finest, its high spirits not yet muted by the impending war; as Severus recalled, the subsequent years had seen fewer and fewer festive decorations, until, by 1981, the villagers had given up on Halloween merriment entirely—only to bring out the sum of the décor the next day, when every Light-minded person in the world celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord, and Severus lost, finally and absolutely, the only person who had ever mattered to him.

Lily squeezed his arm. "Something the matter?" she asked.

Severus swallowed. "Not at the moment," he replied. "May I ask where we're headed?"

Lily grinned. "I thought maybe Tomes & Scrolls?"

"Not Madam Puddifoot's?" Severus deadpanned.

"For some reason I thought a great lot of books would appeal more to you than fat cherubs and screeching girls," Lily said. "Although, of course, now I run the risk that you'll ignore me the rest of the afternoon in favour of those books…"

"Never," Severus assured her. "Not unless they have the latest issue of Potions Quarterly."

"Really."

"Of course I speak in jest," Severus said.

"I knew that," Lily said, elbowing him gently in the ribs.

"The next issue won't be out til December."

Lily elbowed him harder.

They casually walked into the village proper and off the side street that led to the bookshop—Severus was relieved to not recognise any of the students yet in the village—and proceeded to spend upwards of ninety minutes browsing the shelves together. Severus left with a used defence text he'd not seen before, and Lily left with a thick novel and the latest issue of Witch Weekly, about which she was charmingly defensive.

"Oh my god, can we go eat now?" Lily said brightly (as though she'd had to drag him out of the shop, when she was the one who had spent twenty minutes picking up and putting down the same book).

"Are we finally to go to Puddifoot's?" Severus asked.

"Stop it," Lily said. "I was hoping the Broomsticks would be all right with you, if you're not too grown up for such shenanigans."

Severus wasn't so much too mature for The Three Broomsticks as he was too cautious, but there was nothing for it—the Hog's Head was all too likely to play host to once and future Death Eaters who had realised that Aberforth Dumbledore could be convinced to serve them beverages rather stronger than Butterbeer, and Madam Puddifoot's was… out of the question.

So Severus said, "I'm not if you aren't," and Lily smiled at him and led him back toward the high street and The Three Broomsticks, where they managed to secure an out-of-the-way table in the back corner opposite the bar (Lily said nothing about his choice of seats; Rosmerta, however, gave him a sideways look that Severus chose not to decipher).

Rosmerta returned shortly with a pair of Butterbeers and two bowls of what was ostensibly stew, which Lily began consuming with gusto while Severus regarded it sceptically. "I believe Tom may have the advantage over Rosmerta when it comes to his establishment's fare," Severus remarked.

Lily snorted. "Don't let Rosmerta hear you say that."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Do you take me as suicidal?"

And then, with no warning other than a faint whoosh, something cold and wet hit Severus' face and fell into his stew, which immediately splashed over the edge of the bowl and onto Severus' robes.

It occurred to Severus that it might have been better if he had worn his excellently Charmed Apothecary robes.

He glanced down and recognised the object that had hit him and polluted his lunch—it was, inexplicably, a snowball.

Perhaps it wasn't quite so inexplicable, however, when one noticed a certain table across the pub, around which were seated Black, Potter, Pettigrew, and Lupin—and that Black had his wand out and pointed in Severus' direction.

So Severus wordlessly disarmed him.

He had Black's wand in his hand no more than five seconds after the snowball had landed.

"What—did Black just—is that a snowball?" Lily sputtered.

"Yes," Severus said, as he Vanished the snow from his face and glasses—and the stew from his robes—with, satisfyingly, Black's wand.

"Is that Black's wand?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Severus replied. "Would you like it?"

"I'd like to hex him with it," Lily snapped. "BLACK! Oh."

She had turned to shout across the pub—but Black, along with Potter, had already crossed the room and were standing beside their table.

"Give me my wand," Black demanded of Severus.

"I'm so sorry, Evans," Potter said, eyes wide. "I told him not to."

"Give it," Black said again, "or I will hit you like a Muggle."

"Evidently, you're not his keeper," Lily said disdainfully.

"Did you hear me, Snivellus?" Black said. "I said, give me my bloody wand."

Potter turned on Black. "Sirius, apologise to Lily for ruining her afternoon," he said.

Because Severus was a master of Occlusion, his face did not bare the same dumbstruck expression as Sirius Black's.

"What?" Black said.

Lily scoffed. "He needs to apologise to Severus," she said.

"You're the one who said, 'I can't believe she's sitting over there with him in broad daylight. I wish someone would hex him so he'd leave,'" Black said to Potter.

Potter coloured. "I didn't say that."

"Yeah, you definitely did," Black said.

"Well even if I had said it, which I didn't," Potter said, with an obvious glance at Lily, "I wouldn't mean for you to actually do it. Now apologise to Evans."

"Oh bugger off, James," Sirius said, and then he stormed back over to his table, where Wormtail was practically falling off of his seat in his efforts to watch the proceedings.

Potter watched him leave with an amusingly hopeless expression on his face. "I'm so sorry," he said again to Lily. "I swear, I didn't tell him to do that."

"You shouldn't swear when you don't mean it," Lily said. "But I have to ask—why a snowball?"

Potter shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't it seem like it's always snowing in Hogsmeade?"

"It's October," Lily said flatly.

"It could be snowing," Potter said.

"Not enough for a snowball," Lily said, her voice dripping with beautiful disdain.

"He—it—he thought it was funny, okay?" Potter said. "Don't ask me to explain him. I'm not his keeper." He tried for a winning smile. Lily ignored it.

"So, er, I." Potter looked back and forth between Lily, who was pointedly ignoring him, and Severus, who was watching Potter's attempts at reconciliation with a satisfied smirk. "Look, ah, Sni—Snape. I'd like to apologise on Sirius' behalf."

Lily's eyes flew open.

Well, damn.

"Yes, Potter," Severus said, "you may have Black's wand." He lifted the won item between his thumb and forefinger and extended it towards Potter.

"I—I wasn't just asking for the wand back," Potter said.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Frankly, I don't care. Please take Black's wand and leave me to what's left of my meal."

Potter coloured again. He took Black's wand, tucked it into a robe pocket, and then, after a moment of hesitation, brought out his wallet. "Ah, let me at least get you another bowl," Potter said, pulling out a Galleon.

Severus noticed the blood draining from Lily's face even as he reached up to push Potter's hand away. "No," Severus said, "thank you."

"Please," Potter insisted. "I—it's the right thing to do." He glanced at Lily again.

"Go," Severus said, "away."

Potter tried for a winning smile. "Can't I—"

"No," Severus said. "You cannot. Now leave, before I take your wand as well as Black's."

Potter turned to Lily. "I tried," he told her.

"Get lost, Potter," Lily said, and, finally, Potter left them, shooting one intense glare in Severus' direction as he left.

Lily buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled.

Severus—who was well aware, of course, that Potter was watching their every movement from across the pub—reached across the table and took Lily's hands away from her face. "It certainly is not your fault," he told her, holding her hands in his own.

Lily squeezed his hands. "That was mortifying," she said. "Is everyone staring at us?"

Severus glanced around. Potter was staring at them—and Lupin was, inexplicably, watching them as well—but, fortunately, nobody else seemed to find the goings-on of a handful of sixth-year Gryffindors particularly interesting.

"Nobody is staring at us," Severus said, and then, feeling particularly bold, he added, "and if they were, it would only be due to jealousy that they don't share my luck in dining companions."

Lily blushed and said, "Can we get out of here, please? This stew is awful, and mine doesn't even have any Conjured snow in it."

"Really," Severus said. "I doubt it's Conjured. Black most likely used a Freezing Charm on a glass of water."

"If he does that again," Lily said earnestly, "I'll use a Freezing Charm on his bollocks."

"By all means," Severus said. He pulled out a handful of coins and left them on the table—Lily, thankfully, said nothing—and the two of them headed for the door, ignoring Potter and his cronies as they went.

They stepped outside and walked back towards the street, only to hear a young voice call, "Snape!"

Severus looked over to see Regulus Black jogging towards them, Barty Crouch following at a more sedate pace behind him. "Snape," Regulus said again as he reached them. "What are you doing here? Is it a coincidence that you're here on a Hogsmeade weekend? Are you here on business? Is Master Jigger here? Is—oh." Regulus suddenly stopped talking, his eyes on Lily (who, Severus noted, looked more amused than anything). "Hello," Regulus said. "I'm, ah, hello."

"Hello, hello," Lily said, smiling kindly.

There was nothing for it, so Severus said, "Lily, may I present Regulus Black, a fourth-year Slytherin, and his friend Barty Crouch. Regulus, this is Miss Lily Evans, a sixth-year Gryffindor."

"I know who she is," Regulus said. "She's a Prefect. And James Potter is hopelessly in love with her. Or, ah." Regulus cringed. "So I've heard."

"So we've all heard," Lily said drily. She said nothing else; Severus assumed that she was aware enough of Gryffindor gossip to know that Sirius was no longer considered part of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. After all, if he knew it, surely someone with a veritable plethora of friends and acquaintances would be well aware.

"Evans," Barty said slowly. "Are you, by any chance, related to Mulfinias Evans, the celebrated Goblin liaison?"

Regulus' eyes flew open. Severus' eyes remained Occluded behind his glasses. Lily's eyes narrowed.

All four of them were, without a doubt, well aware of Lily Evans' blood status. After all, she was a popular Gryffindor and Prefect. If they knew enough to know that Potter was obsessed with her, these blood purists knew exactly what type of family begat Lily Evans.

But to Severus' surprise, Regulus said, "Come on, Barty, not everybody is as obsessed with their famous ancestors as you."

It was the first time Severus had known the boy to exhibit any semblance of tact whatsoever.

"It was nice to see you, Snape," Regulus continued. "Have a good afternoon, Miss Evans." And then he pulled a frowning Barty away toward the Three Broomsticks.

As they left, Lily said quietly, "That Crouch kid is creepy."

"I wouldn't disagree," Severus concurred, and they turned back toward the high street.

They walked slowly back towards the direction of Hogsmeade Station; Lily glanced in a few shop windows as they went, but declined to go into any of the shops. "I'm really just putting off going back up to school," she explained with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Ah," Severus replied eloquently.

So they took a meandering route down a few side streets—Severus steered them away from one street in particular, but Lily didn't seem to notice his refusal to go near a certain building in which he'd drawn his final breaths—and, at some point, Lily slipped her hand into his.

Severus was calculating the best way to cast a Drying Charm on his increasingly moist right hand without Lily noticing when he spied Rosier, Mulciber, and Avery turning the corner. He immediately pulled Lily off the street and behind a large tree.

"Severus!" Lily exclaimed, but Severus hissed at her to be quiet. She closed her mouth, but looked up at him curiously.

The three sixth year Slytherins passed their hiding place without incident—Severus rolled his eyes at the sound of Mulciber's unpleasant, braying laugh—and once they had stepped out of earshot, Severus explained quietly, "My apologies. I had no desire to speak to my former dorm mates at this time. Please forgive my…impulsiveness."

Lily smiled. "No, it's fine. I wouldn't want to run into them, either—I know how awful they can be." She laughed, and, blushing quite fiercely, added, "When you first pulled me over here, I thought maybe you had an entirely different goal in mind."

"And what would that be?" Severus asked, as the realisation slowly, impossibly, grew.

"Oh, you know. What, ah, most people want to do on dates." Lily grinned, tilting her head to one side.

"I am not most people," Severus pointed out, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

"I," Lily said. "I, ah. I kind of am."

And then she reached up, threaded her hand through his hair behind his head, pulled his face towards hers, and got hit in the eye by his nose.

"Oops," Lily said as Severus died inside. "Let me—"

And then her lips were on his.

Severus had experienced several kisses in his life. Until the age of five or so—before Eileen Snape had given up on her family and, it must be admitted, her life—he had received many maternal kisses. In his seventh year at Hogwarts, he had dated a sixth-year Slytherin named Lucrezia, who had already made the rounds with every other Slytherin boy in the sixth and seventh years (and, reportedly, with one particularly good-looking fifth year). At Rosier's goading, he had gone so far as to "seal the deal" with Lucrezia, an experience that had been, on the whole, underwhelming for the both of them.

At twenty-six, when the ever-present grief had cleared enough for him to be able to almost feel once more, he had spent a few evenings in the company of that year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, an optimistic woman called Jezzie, who hadn't been unattractive and who hadn't taken immediate offence to Severus' immediate initial dismissal of her overtures. Unfortunately, she had left the position after the customary year due to her mother's increasingly ill health, and Severus hadn't heard from her—aside from a yearly, overly chatty letter at Christmastime—since 1987.

The others—Maude, Claire, and…ah…Evelyn?—had been uninspiring and, clearly, forgettable. Charity Burbage, drunk, had once approached him at the Hogwarts staff Christmas party; in the morning, a well-placed Obliviate had ensured that he had been forgettable.

Not a single encounter came even close to the sheer physical and emotional satisfaction of this single kiss with Lily Evans.

When she slipped her tongue into his mouth, his knees, quite literally, physically weakened, and he was forced to place a hand on the tree trunk next to Lily's face for support. In response, Lily grabbed the front of his robes and pulled his body flush against hers.

Severus found himself in immediate danger of his body behaving quite sixteen years old about it all, and he distanced himself ever so slightly away from, frankly, the object of his overwhelming desire.

She tasted, Severus noted, like strawberries and second chances, which was an entirely inane thought.

When a tiny moan emanated from Lily's throat, Severus very nearly died a second time.

The peal of church bells cut across the village—three o'clock—and Lily, unfortunately, pulled away. "Oh damn," she said (and Severus had to ignore the observation that she was breathing heavily, and that her chest was rising and falling with every deep breath, contain yourself, Mr Snape). "I've got to get back. I've got duty escorting the third-years, and every time, one tries to stay out after curfew. It drives me mad."

Severus, one hand on the tree trunk and the other somehow wrapped around Lily's waist, nodded. "Yes. Ah. Mad. Indeed."

A slow, satisfied smile crept across Lily's face. "Why, Severus," she said. "Are you, for once, at a loss for words?"

Severus, never one to sacrifice his dignity, settled for nodding. Lily laughed delightedly and pressed her lips to his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"Ah, Lily," Severus said, as she pressed a series of kisses to the skin where his neck met his shoulder. "Might I, ah. Suggest that we. That you. Lily." He reluctantly stepped away from her and snapped, "If you wish to return to Hogwarts within the next two hours might I suggest that you head in that direction now, while I am still able to restrain myself?"

Lily blushed. "Well, really," she said.

"Really," Severus promised her. He took a step back towards the street and held out his hand; she, after straightening her robes, took his hand and followed him back to the village centre.

"I hope I'll see you at Christmas?" Lily said as they walked. "I mean—I don't suppose you'll be at, ah, home, but maybe you could visit? Mum would like that. If you're available, I mean."

"I shall make myself available," Severus vowed. Lily smiled up at him. Severus gave into the urge to smile back. Lily's smile brightened.

They shortly reached their destination. "I—I really should be rounding up errant third-years," Lily said, regret clear in her voice. "But thank you, for, ah." Lily took a deep breath and blurted out, "Severus, may I call you my boyfriend?"

Severus blinked.

Lily bit her lower lip.

"What a ridiculous question," Severus said unthinkingly.

Lily's eyes flew open. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

Blast, not again. "No, I—Lily," Severus said quickly. "I only meant that I would have to be completely daft to refuse, and that I wish I had made such a proposal myself."

He was completely daft.

Lily smiled. "Oh. Ah. That's—okay. So. Okay, then. Great." She grinned. "Okay."

"Okay," Severus echoed helplessly.

"Okay," Lily repeated. "I. I'll see you at Christmas, then. You'll—okay." She leaned up, pressed one last kiss to his lips, and trotted away towards a milling group of younger students in Gryffindor crests.

Severus heard her say, "Okay, where's Anderson?" as he turned and headed back towards the Three Broomsticks.

In a daze, he headed into the pub and towards the floo, at which he stared for a full minute.

"You have to put the Floo Powder in first, love," Madam Rosmerta's voice came from behind him.

Severus glanced over his shoulder. "Yes. Thank you," he said irritably.

To his surprise, Rosmerta laughed. "Young love," she said fondly. "I cater weddings. Remember that."

Severus, scowling, flung a handful of powder into the flames. "Diagon Alley," he said distinctly as he stepped in, and off he whirled through the grates of London.

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this chapter, and thank you for your reviews! I hope to have the next chapter up by Valentine's Day.