Lilies

Lilies
Chapter One
The First Strike

Hermione Granger checked the clock. It was twenty minutes until Ginny’s detention with Professor Snape; a detention which Ginny would not be attending. Ronald Weasley had been such a prick lately. He had virtually put a stop to Harry and Ginny’s relationship while he continued to see the ever-obnoxious, ridiculous Lavender Brown. Ginny had come to Hermione begging, “If he thinks I’m somewhere else, I’ll be able to sneak out to Hogsmeade with Harry… he’ll be with Lavender, he’ll never notice. Please, Hermione, please?”

Hermione considered it. She cared for Ginny and for Harry, and to tell the truth, Ron had been a real pain lately. What she wouldn’t give to get back at him… this was just the way to do that. They planned it from there. Ginny would get a detention for a Hogsmeade weekend. A detention with Snape would be the easiest to manage, as he was always more than happy to give them out. But before Ginny did that, Hermione would have to start the potion, seeing as it took such a long time to come to maturity. Never, in all the time between the two incidents, did Hermione dream that she would once again be brewing polyjuice potion on the floor of Moaning Myrtle’s lavatory. Sure, it was much easier not having to actually steal from Professor Snape herself. Unlike her friends, she didn’t harbor any sort of animosity toward the professor. Harry had sent Dobby to the Potions Master’s lair to do the thievery. It didn’t sit right with Hermione, sending the house elf to do their dirty work, or stealing from Professor Snape. But it had to be done, if only to get back at Ron. And it saved her getting Ginny and Harry anything else for Christmas.

Hermione checked her appearance one last time in the mirror. Red hair, pale skin, slightly smaller build… she was Ginny Weasley now. She was Ginny Weasley, and she was headed for a detention with Professor Snape. After adjusting her wardrobe accordingly and adding the tasteful makeup that Ginny was never without, it was time to leave.

As she made her way to the dungeons, it struck Hermione as funny that every time she brewed polyjuice, something bad happened to her. Last time, her punishment had been turning into a cat; now, it was detention with Professor Snape. The corners of her mouth turned up briefly, until she realized where she was. It was time for detention to begin, and she had better not go in there looking happy. Hermione raised her hand and opened the door to the dungeon classroom.

Professor Snape, on whom she had counted to be waiting, tedious task in hand, was nowhere to be found.

“Professor?” Hermione called out in Ginny’s voice, “Professor Snape, sir, I’m here for detention.”

No answer. Hermione became concerned. She knew that Professor Snape was a Death Eater and double-agent; two very dangerous jobs, on top of being Neville Longbottom’s potions professor. She worried briefly, before noting that the door that led to Professor Snape’s office was slightly ajar, with a small amount of light peeking out at her. Approaching the door, Hermione could not help but peek through the crack to see what her Professor was doing when he should have been overseeing her detention. What she saw surprised her.

Professor Snape was slumped over in his chair barely holding onto a large, mostly empty bottle of Ogden’s. He was not moving. Hermione knew that in large quantities, liquor might as well be poison. She pushed the door open and slowly approached the professor. She could not summon the courage to touch him, or to speak his name. Instead, she opted to clear her throat.

To her total surprise, Professor Snape raised his head slowly, very slowly. The professor blinked rapidly several times and sat the bottle down on the floor. Blinking several more times and pushing his hair back out of his face, he looked at Hermione from a hundred miles away. Hermione noticed his eyes getting wet, and pulled a curious face. She was getting ready to speak when the professor took a shuddering breath and croaked a single word, “Lily.”

“What?” Not the most articulate of answers, or the most sensible, but certainly the most honest one she could wrap her lips around for the moment.

Lily? Lily? What did that mean, and why was it being said to her? ‘Think, Hermione, think.’ Lily… was the name of Harry’s mother. Surely, the professor didn’t think that Hermione was Harry’s mum. Not Hermione, Ginny. Hermione herself had commented in the past how much Ginny looked like the pictures of Harry’s mum, and had made jokes about muggle adages concerning marrying one’s mother. Before she could finish this flurry of thoughts, much less appreciate them, the professor was speaking again.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Lily, I didn’t mean it. You have to understand, what they were doing to me, I didn’t know what I was saying.” His voice broke; but he didn’t stop talking. “Lily, I-I-I, Lily, I love you,” the last statement had come out as more of an anguished howl as the very drunk professor tried to stand up, doubtlessly to approach her.

Hermione couldn’t help but admire his relative coordination considering how much alcohol he had ingested. Stopping to think always was her weakness, for while she was being amazed by his drunken antics, Professor Snape had stood and crossed the room, and now had her securely in his drunken embrace. ‘Gods, what a mess.’

Trying to step back, Hermione realized that there was nowhere to go. There was a wall there. ‘Oh, what next?!’ Hermione honestly had no idea what to do. Professor Snape was drunk, and he was… oh, gods, he was going to kiss her. And kiss her, he did. It would have been a pleasant kiss, if he hadn’t been stinking drunk and the kiss had been intended for her. As it actually was, the kiss was somewhat creepy. But not bad. It was gentle, if a bit uncontrolled.

When he broke away from her, she slowly found her voice, “Professor, Professor, I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger.” He blinked. “Your student,” she helped. Without saying another word, the professor released her and walked back to his chair, taking on the same, slumped posture she had seen when she arrived. She slipped out the door and went straight back to her room, careful to avoid Ron’s detection as she still had Ginny’s appearance.

Lying in bed, Hermione considered what had happened that evening in “detention.” Did Harry know about Professor Snape’s feelings for his mum? He’d die. She could never tell… she could never tell anybody. A poor quality of sleep came over her as she tried not to think about that kiss.

Hermione stirred in her sleep. Someone was touching her, and talking to her. It was Ginny, shouting something about flowers. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Hermione saw a large, beautiful arrangement of lilies sitting on the table beside her bed. “How did they get here? Who are they from?” Ginny was asking her, and she wanted to know herself. Standing and picking through the flowers until she found a tag, Hermione read aloud: “To Miss Hermione Granger, Gryffindor girls’ dormitory.”

“That’s it?” Ginny asked skeptically.

“Well, there is a symbol at the bottom. An eight pointed star. Does that mean anything to you, Ginny?”

“I wish it did. I’m the one with all the guys and you’re the one getting flowers. Figures,” Ginny groused, “We’d better get going before we miss breakfast.”

Hermione followed Ginny, with a far-away look in her eyes. Where had the flowers come from? Lilies, no less. Hermione suppressed a shudder at the memory of last night, of being called Lily, of being told “I love you.” Did Professor Snape send those flowers? He couldn’t have. He didn’t know it was her. Hell, he didn’t know it was Ginny. ‘Not possible,’ Hermione told herself. ‘Relax.’ While she was taking deep, calming breaths, Hermione realized she would have to not only see her professor at breakfast, but in Double-Potions, her last class of the day. So much for the deep, calming breaths.

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Severus Snape awoke with a truly foul taste in his mouth and no memory of most of the previous day, or making it back to his private chambers. Picking himself up with much effort, he surveyed his appearance, noting the trace of ruby red lipstick that still clung to the corner of his mouth. “Gods,” he groaned aloud, “what have I done now?” It was not unusual for Severus to drink to the point of forgetting, or forgetting the present, anyway. He’d start out drinking, and by the time he was pleasantly drunk, he was reliving memories of his time as a student, and of his time with her. The more he drank, the more he remembered, until inevitably, she would leave him again. Then he would drink more, until her forgot her.

He frequently woke up disoriented, but never before had he woken up with such an obvious sign of interacting with another. He only had one option. He pulled his last memory to mind, and started retrieving his own memories. Placing them in, he followed them. He saw himself humiliated, he saw himself kissing his student, and then, the most interesting revelation of all. It was not Miss Weasley he had assaulted, but Miss Granger, disguised as Miss Weasley. If that wasn’t grounds for a detention, he did not know what was.

Throwing on his clothing, and his customary scowl with an added intensity, Severus stalked out of his rooms, stopping dead by the door. There was a large basket of… lilies… on the table in the entrance hall. A piece of parchment was sticking out of them. “To Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts dungeons.” Apart from an eight-pointed star, that was all the identifying information he had to go on.

Just because he couldn’t remember last night was no reason Granger couldn’t, Severus realized. She was notoriously soft. Was she behind this? Well, one thing was certain, he’d know before the end of the day. Meanwhile, he would have all of Double-Potions to needle her. It was going to be a good day in spite of the flowers, Severus decided. He transfigured the lilies into roses and obliterated them before stalking out the door to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Severus was seated and eating with Miss Granger entered the Great Hall with Miss Weasley. He registered vaguely a guilty sensation gnawing at his stomach. He shook his head; it was her fault. She had come into his private space, she had approached him looking like, looking like, well, -her- and she had known he was drunk. She could have left. All he did was…

Dumbledore touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention, and started a conversation, mercifully pulling him away from his own thoughts.




A/N: So it's hard for me to depart from SS/LE. I promise Lily's role in this fic is pretty much over. Writing this as I go. Please review.