...
Severus spoke then, his voice flat. "...So, how do you feel about it?"
"What are you accusing me of? Are you really gonna talk bloody bullshit like my housemates, Sev?"
"Accusing you? I'm not asking whether or not you've been secretly fancying Potter, Lils. I'm simply asking what you think."
"..."
"Just so you know, I'm a Slytherin, and no Slytherin worth his salt whines that he was shocked that anyone would choose a mate based on wealth and status. I understand whatever decision you make about this match."
In fact, Severus was experiencing in real time the outcome of a marriage based purely on emotion, without regard to money, capabilities, or background.
Lily narrowed her eyes and spoke coldly.
"Yeah, but why do I get the feeling you're provoking me?"
"...!"
"What answer are you expecting by provoking me? What, perhaps you want me to make an oath on my Magic? That I'll never, ever accept his proposal?"
The boy's face contorted horribly.
Severus didn't say anything more, just jumped to his feet. He turned and walked quickly away. His ears were ringing.
"...v! ...!"
He couldn't see anything in front of him. His steps became faster and faster, and he gasped for breath.
"...ev! Sev, stop right there, you prat!"
His shoulder was roughly grabbed. For a few seconds, he moved his limbs, not understanding the hand that held him, then he lost his balance and slumped helplessly to the ground.
Beside him, Lily crouched down with him. Her green eyes looked straight at him, no height difference between them.
"I'm sorry."
"..."
"Last time, I should have thanked you for telling me about your mother, and as pissed off as I was then and as pissed off as I am now about this whole shitty situation, I have nothing but gratitude for you, Severus. And I'm sorry for taking it out on you, and I'm even more sorry for throwing the word 'oath' around after hearing your story."
Severus blinked his jet-black eyes. The world around him began to regain some colour, and air began to fill his lungs. He focused on the green glow of the girl staring back at him.
...How the hell could she be so good at apologising?
It was the first thought that came to his mind when his vision cleared. Severus parted his lips. He exhaled with difficulty.
"...I'm..."
I'm sorry, too, he tried to say, but it didn't come out.
The next Lady Potter, Lily Evans. Hearing those words, he felt helpless and hopeless, as if his worst fears had come true. He felt angry, resentful, anxious.
He'd provoked Lily to take them out on her, and had been read right through by her, by this thickhead Lils.
He should be the one apologising to her, not her to him. But the words didn't come out, as if his mind was a blank slate.
Lily looked into his expression and sighed. She reached out and patted him on the shoulder, then pulled herself up.
And with that, they sat back down under the tree, made up with the ease of old friends. It was a reconciliation they seemed to be going through for nearly the hundredth time in Severus' memory.
Lily leaned back against the trunk and spoke again.
"It was because of this rumour that Smith was picking fight with me; she had been expecting her cousin be engaged to Potter."
"..."
"I've been getting flaks in my house lately, not as maliciously as Smith did to me, of course... but ugh! I was unnecessarily angry with you earlier because of that. You know, I think I would have sworn an eternal curse on Potter and stormed out of the room if not for your story. But your words must have frightened me, Sev, because the word 'I swear' didn't dare come out of my mouth even in the heat of the moment."
"...That was... a... wise decision on you, I reckon."
The way Severus' brow furrowed and his slow, reluctant reply made it obvious that he hated to tell her not cursing Potter was 'wise.' Lily giggled in spite of herself.
"And as for James Potter... I haven't spoken to him one-on-one since I heard these rumours, because I've been avoiding him like the plague."
"What?"
"Marlene McKinnon, the sixth-year Prefect gave me some advice, and the way things are going around these days, I'm afraid if I slip for a moment, her prediction's going to come true."
If she confront Potter, she couldn't see herself talk to him calmly without raising her voice.
And the thought of Potter and herself getting into a loud argument in Gryffindor House ...regarded as 'the sweet, petulant flirting of a prospective lover'? Lily shook her head, as the thought sent chills down her spine.
"Lately, I've come to a conclusion, Sev; that Potter is... simply put, he's my jinx. A plague."
The girl finished calmly. "So I've decided not to mention him at all out of my mouth. The more I talk about him, the more I'm jinxed."
It was a truly wizardly conclusion that might have come from a witch of a 19th generation of purebloods since Merlin, uttered by a modern British girl, Lily Evans.
"..."
Severus tried to hold it together, but he couldn't. A dark chuckle escaped his lips.
Merlin. A Potter, being treated like a plague!
He didn't stop his wicked smirk, even after Lily scoffed and warned him to 'better keep it down', which eventually earned him a few whacks on the back.
"...By the way, Sev, you do realise that Potions second practical is next week? I'm not sure our Potions genius has prepared properly."
Tired of whacking him, Lily blatantly changed the subject, and though he knew it, Severus was dragged along.
"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm pretty sure I can beat a Gryffindor girl whose name start with L. If I remember correctly... the point tally was eighteen to sixteen in our last practical, right?"
"To SEVENTEEN!" The girl screeched indignantly.
Sev smirked, raising one of his dark eyebrows. That expression was enough to end a six-year friendship in an instant, she seethed.
The purpose of the diversion gone, Lily clenched her fists in defence of her taunted pride.
"...Who was it that insisted that the purpose of Potions class was potion-making, and then the last time Peverell gave us a practical lesson that didn't involve any brewing at all, that someone was all gushing with praise?"
Severus shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea who made such an outdated claim. And the fact that Peverell was able to educate an entire class on the essentials of several potions in such a lively manner, without the need for dangerous brewing process, is the very Slytherin efficiency indeed; it was fundamentally superior to the Gryffindor 'fessor Jackson's class last year."
"...Ugh... Wow... You..."
While Lily was possessed by a Hungarian Horntail and spewing fire out of her mouth, Severus was lazily reminiscing about their Potions lesson two weeks ago.
.
.
.
Early October.
.
After more than a month of torturous cramming lessons, the students were excited to hear that they would finally have a Potions practical. The best students pored over their fifth year textbooks, anticipating what potion they would brew in the class, while some far-from-best Gryffindor boys cheered on the news and prepared some special ingredients in advance. Lily the prefect confiscated them in a fit of rage, though it was unknown if she could take all.
When they entered the Potions classroom, it was in the same state as usual.
That is, no potion-brewing table was set up. The classroom's ingredients shelves were empty.
Sighs of disappointment emanated from the students, many of whom didn't particularly like potion brewing at all.
Right, there was no way Professor Peverell, with his madness for rote learning, was going to give them a potions practical. They were stupid to expect otherwise.
The students sighed and pulled out their textbooks to prepare for their notes, thinking they had been the victims of a cruel joke, when Professor Peverell opened the classroom door.
"As announced, guys, today is a practical."
"..."
"? Why don't you have a little more sparkle in your eyes?"
"... Uh, Professor, the classroom's not prepared for the practical."
Peverell smirked. "I've done all the preparing."
The professor waved his wand nonchalantly. Two empty hourglasses, each about three-foot-high, appeared in front of the class. One was red, the other green.
They looked like scaled-down versions of the house-point hourglasses in the Great Hall; the students began to whisper.
Peverell snapped his fingers. "Everyone take your seats. And be ready to raise your hand as soon as you think of the answer."
"...?"
The students took their seats, questions in their eyes. Peverell smirked and pulled a potion vial from the pocket of his robes.
"Are any of you currently taking any medication? No? Good. Here we go."
From the spout of the vial in the professor's hand, a bright silver stream of liquid shot out. The students' eyes widened. Now what is this?
The silver stream soon split into dozens, like a sparkling fountain in mid-air, and poured down in front of their eyes, one by one. The next moment, the stream had turned into a total of 80 thimble-sized silver droplets, sparkling like jewels right in front of their faces.
"Try it."
"Huh...?"
Peverell grinned. "Open your mouths, taste, swallow. If you feel uncomfortable, you may just taste it and spit it out."
Soon appeared small bowls on each student's desk, as if they were meant to be used for that purpose. A Slytherin student asked in an uneasy voice.
"...It's a drop of a potion, isn't it? What kind of potion is it, Professor?"
"You're to figure that one out, of course!"
... We'd forgotten. This professor was not exactly a model of sanity.
"...It'd be safe to drink... Is it safe to drink, sir?"
"Try it, and if it feels like unsafe, you should throw it up. Surely you all have some basic level of survival instinct to keep your limbs intact so far in this school?"
The eyes of the students collectively trembled. What the hell kind of school does he think Hogwarts is? Peverell grinned, a wicked grin to say the least, and urged them on.
...