Yours, SS [Book 1]

Chapter 39

Later that evening, Amilia and Severus sat in the little sitting-room. He nursed a firewhiskey, and she had tea, the steam wafted faintly in her line of sight. She was agitated about how Severus appeared to have a general disdain for anything that the headmaster suggested and offered. She wanted to discuss it, but the vine that ebbed off of him was nerve-wracking.

Severus could hear her shift in her seat every few seconds; it made reading The Daily Prophet very difficult. She would bring her tea to her lips, but not take a sip or even seem to enjoy it. It appeared as if she was trying to find something relaxing in the motion. She was anxious, and he was not sure why. Finally, after a short time of dealing with the fabric shifting beneath her again, "What is on your mind, Amilia?"

Amilia stifled the little gasp that pressed against the back of her lips. How did he know something was bothering me?

"You are not exactly subtle when something has irritated you. I have learned that much about you from the year of being your teacher." He was able to recall the times where she had lashed out at her peers and himself, even going as far as yelling at him, particularly the first day of the school year. A smile crept across his face as the memory played back for him.

She pursed her lips, "Dumbledore...I mean, Albus, was kind enough to offer to have our wedding at the castle." She glanced up at him. His face was hard to read.

"I do not want to be in debt to that man any more than I already am." Severus felt terrible as soon as the words fell from his tongue. Her beautiful lips turned down in a frown, and she turned her gaze away from him. Slowly the little teacup was lifted to those same downturn lips again; this time, she drew in the amber liquid and sighed. He imagined that the warmth from the tea filled her to her extremities. She had the same look of bliss on her face, once it hit the right spot, that Lily had. Lily. He rose from his seat and gently cupped her face in his hand. "I have a potion to finish. I will be in bed shortly."

Amilia's face fell as he walked away from her towards the potions room in the cellar. Sighing heavily, she reclined her head against the back of the chair, "What debt? What are you not telling me?" Frustrated, she reached for a notepad nearest to her and started scribbling away like a madwoman, determined to get what she wanted to say out.

Severus stood hunched over his potion, stirring absentmindedly, the green hue of the liquid, reminding him of a love that will never go away. Lily. How I longed for the day that I could have asked you to be my wife, but here I am, with her, and there you are, buried next to that asshole. He waved his wand to continue stirring as he collected the flasks needed, carefully writing the name on little slips of paper.

His thoughts wandered off to the redhead on her wedding day. It was a happy ceremony, surrounded by her friends and those she had adopted as family. Potter's friends and family lounged about and cheered loudly once their vows were exchanged. Severus was not invited, but he had heard of where it was taking place; he had hoped to apologize to Lily, but he did not get a chance to. Instead, he stood in the shadows as his heart shattered while she smiled and danced with her new husband.

Growing up, he had always dreamed of the day he would see Lily in her wedding gown, standing before him at the altar. Her red hair neatly tucked under the veil; he thought of how she would smile up at him and blush as he lifted the veil. Her lips were parting as she said, "I do." He recalled thinking about how their children would have looked, her eyes, he would have wanted them to have her green eyes. He felt that black hair and green eyes would have been a striking combination for the longest time, then the Potter boy was born.