hey, friends. happy valentine's day, aka singles' awareness day, aka february 14th.

1973

Glazed strawberries on buttermilk pancakes. Pink fizzy pop. Red glitter. Why was glitter so popular, anyway?

Severus hated glitter. It never washed out.

He watched with quiet eyes from the shadows as laughter and hollering burst out all around the Great Hall. Sure, it was always loud and obnoxious, but it was especially worse today, the 14th of February. It was enough to smother his appetite, that was certain. Little white lace...things...were scattered about the tables, appearing underneath the glasses with the food. Pink flowers flitted through the air and a disgustingly sweet scent clung to the air like so many of the strange, air-headed females to their equally strange, air-headed male peers. The Gryffindors were the worst of all. The entire table was relishing in the opportunity to make fools of themselves - the boys, from 11 to 17, were punching each other on the arms and whistling; every girl he could see was cooing.

Well — every girl except one.

Lily, of course, because she, obviously, was much better than any of the other miscreants she was forced to sit with.

As if Severus's thoughts were being projected out to the Great Hall at large, the loudest, most obnoxious, appetite-smothering, air-headed Gryffindor strutted his way down the tables until he came to Lily, whose face had gone cold with the kind of resignation one tends to get when growing accustomed to a painful occurrence.

In short, James Potter: insufferable Gryffindor prince.

From his seat at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall, he could not hear whatever Potter had to say, though he was sure it was something as idiotic as usual, for before he'd even raised his wand in some honorable proclamation of love, Lily had whipped her own out and, with a wave, she'd charmed his precious hair: rather than the unbrushed mess it usually was, his hair had been curled and turned an ugly, pale shade of puce.

Laughter exploded around the Great Hall. Lily stuffed a book she'd been reading with Alice Brown into her bag and stormed from the Great Hall. Potter, apparently, was still not bright enough to figure out that she was not interested, because he called after her once more.

"Go stick your huge head in the Lake!" Lily's shouted, her voice echoing. "I will not go with you to Hogsmead, and that is final!" Even the Slytherin table was snickering, most likely pleased to see Gryffindor's lead Chaser shut down in any shape or form. Blocking out some of the comments made about Lily, Severus collected his own bag and the books that wouldn't fit, and he, too, left the hall. On his way out, a paper airplane smacked him upside the head. At closer examination, it was a swan, not an airplane, and he was reminded yet again that every little thing was different between magic and Muggles.

Severus moved quickly through the empty halls. It was a Saturday, and everyone must have been at the Great Hall for breakfast. He was thankful that, even if there was some Prefect just wandering the halls, he was most likely to go unnoticed. Severus made it outside in minutes, then to the Whomping Willow in a few more. Just like he'd thought, Lily was there, sitting beneath the Willow with her book in her lap. He felt something like a smile tugging at his lips. It didn't matter what Rosier and Pucey said — Yes, Lily was a Gryffindor, but she was nothing like those morons, and he would not leave her alone to suffer the remnants of a James Potter incident.

She looked up when he approached the tree. "Hello, Sev," she said, smiling.

"Hello, Lily." He took a seat beside her and she obligingly moved her books out of the way. They sat there for some time, and he inhaled the bright blue sky, the chill off the Black Lake, the crimson of Lily's hair and the strawberry scent from her shampoo. "No Hogsmead today?"

"No." Her reply was sharp, then softened. "Do you want to go, Sev?"

They'd gone all the other times, and he could tell that she would muster up the will to go if he said he would. She was just kind like that - even if she didn't want to do something for herself, she would still go and make the best of it for a friend.

But it was pretty clear that she didn't want to go. "No," Severus said finally. "No, I don't."

"Do you want to just stay here?"

He smiled at her. "Okay." Severus shifted his own books and leaned against the tree, relaxing. He kept his bag far away from Lily, not wanting her to see that, assuming she would want to go, he'd secured all his pocket money to it.

Just in case.

But it would have to wait until next year, he supposed.

1974

There was a little runt of a kid Sorted into Ravenclaw this year. He was shorter than most, had wavy blond hair, and had obscenely white teeth. His name was Gunthuroy or Gilderoy or something like that. Honestly, with the extraordinarily horrendous ego the runt had, Severus would not have been surprised if the boy had renamed himself. Severus had never seen such a shallow creature before — even Sirius Black had (ugh) friends in Gryffindor, and at least Potter was a good Chaser. As far as he could tell, the boy hadn't even been able to properly create a potion yet.

Unfortunately, for the past several months, Severus was one of the only few able to see the boy's shortcomings in everything but flair. The older girls thought he was adorable, and the other first-years thought he was the crème de la crème. But Severus noticed the sparkles on the boy's robes and he rolled his eyes; how melodramatic could the kid get? Thankfully, the charm had begun to wear at this point in the year — professors, especially, were growing annoyed at the increase in talk and decrease in quality of magic.

It was the 14th of February once more, and as Severus sat in the Great Hall on Monday afternoon, it was only in the middle of the meal that the boy appeared, teeth flashing against the candles. "Greetings, students!" he bellowed.

He was ignored.

"I come bearing gifts!" he announced next.

The teachers had noticed.

"And, for a limited time offer, we also have an impressively fantastic selection of — you guessed it — candy!"

Suddenly, the male population was interested.

Severus rolled his eyes and proceeded to block out the mania over sugary confections. He stabbed his scrambled egg with his fork and made himself eat it, for the majority of every other edible thing on the table was either covered in sugar or dyed pink, and he'd rather starve than be seen eating tapered-with waffles. The entire time, Severus had something so securely placed in his pocket that he might have trouble getting it out when he actually needed to. He tried not to think about it.

By the time the end of lunch rolled around, the boy had already made his way up and down all the tables. Severus almost couldn't believe it when the boy approached the Slytherin table. But the boy's optimistic smile never dimmed; he just let the insults from the older boys — Crabbe, Goyle, McNair — slide off with the heinous hair gel. "...if you're certain, mister! Ah, my friend, you look like you need something for this special afternoon!" The boy was talking to Severus.

A hush fell over the other Slytherin fourth-years, all watching with eager eyes for Severus to shut the brat down. He'd done so to several Hufflepuffs in the library once, sending the four 'puffs running for their lives after he finally made use of the colorful language he'd picked up from his father.

Even Lucius Malfoy had raised an eyebrow when regaled with the tale.

But from across the Hall, Severus had seen a particular girl stand up from another table and that was his own cue to leave. But the boy was grinning widely, blocking his path. "I say, friend, I'm certain that you could use a hand...a handful of my excellent new product! Just sprinkle some over you every night for three weeks and I guarantee results!" Lily was already walking through the open doors... "...since it is, after all, a special day, I'm offering a deal..." He was going to lose her at this rate! Severus stood up. He'd hit an impressive growth spurt over the summer and now towered over the first-year, who was still grinning like the idiot he was.

"Move," Severus commanded.

"But, I haven't even told you the best part-!"

"Move," Severus repeated, his short temper quickly burning up. Lily was already out of sight.

"Yep, you could definitely do with a handful of this!" And he flung a handful of some kind of powder directly in Severus's face. Angry scowls and grumbles came from across the table — no one sat directly next to Severus when he was in a mood — as the stuff immediately latched onto Severus's black robes.

Silence.

Severus straightened to his full height and glowered at the boy with enough cold, I'm-going-to-rip-your-throat-out-without-breaking-a-sweat fury that would impress Lucius at his worst. "Not — another — word," he hissed. His voice, along with that height boost, had dropped to a deep bass tone that he had not had an opportunity to really use — until now. "You will not talk to me again, unless you find yourself desiring pain of the likes you cannot imagine." The boy's eyes were wide and for once, he was speechless. Severus leaned down, his voice deadly soft. "Do I make myself clear?" The boy nodded, shaking like a leaf. "I will ask once more: Do I make myself clear?" Severus demanded again.

"Y-Yes!"

"Go," he whispered.

The boy fled, tripping over his too-long robes to much laughter from Slytherin. "Good work, Snape!" Abbot snickered. The snicker turned into something like a smirk. "The little bugger got somethin' on your face, though." Severus ignored every other comment and made his way from the Hall and to the Dungeons in a foul temper. Lily was, of course, nowhere to be seen, and he'd had plans to be with her today, since February's Hogsmead trip would fall in one week and he was going to be working on something for Slughorn then. Besides, their time together was growing less and less frequent, and, well...

Well, there was always next year, Severus grumbled and stormed into an empty lavatory, standing in front of the mirror. The powder that little brat had thrown at him seemed primarily made of red glitter. He flicked at his nose, but nothing happened to the cheery sparkles. He picked at his robes. Nothing. Severus snarled and ripped the piece of parchment from his pocket. He tore it to shreds until all there were just scraps, just like the red glitter scattered all over his clothes and skin. Words blinked up at him, words like To L.E. and remember when...? and fondly, S.S.

He drew his wand. "Incendio!"

...might be a bit of a worthless holiday, sometimes. But for what it's worth, Happy V. Day...

1975

Severus didn't step foot from the Dungeons that day. There was really no point, and he knew it.

1981

Severus could count the number of times he'd gotten drunk on one hand.

First, sometime last summer. He'd been at Lucius's mansion, and his hand was shaking beneath his robes until he got a good gulp — then two, because that only calmed one hand, then three, because his throat was still tight, then four... — of the fancy French wine. Thankfully, he'd noticed the haziness in his mind and made a retreat as soon as possible — four and a half hours later — but as soon as he'd gotten home, he'd left once more to buy a pint to drag home with him.

Second, November 1st, 1991.

And third, February 14th, 1991, when he'd just woken up and not had the energy to extricate himself from the incredibly uncomfortable chair he'd fallen asleep in. He'd hated holidays for many years, but this was something new. This was a new kind of regret, a new kind of longing, a new kind of grief. Severus had Accio'ed the one bottle of liquor he had in the house and it was empty far too fast...

1992

Severus could not contain his resentment when Gilderoy Lockhart was hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and made his feelings quite clear to Albus upon hearing the decision.

"Albus," he'd growled after several minutes of ranting, "Give me one good reason you hired the brainless buffoon."

Albus had smiled, popped a disgustingly sugary lemon drop into his mouth, and thought about it for some time. "Well, my boy," he'd started, and Severus refrained from snarling at the word, "I'm afraid that I have nothing to share with you at the present."

Severus had startled Pomona into nearly dropping her pot when he stormed by, robes billowing out behind him. By the first month of Lockhart's teachings, Severus was ready to murder the moron before the supposed professor could accidentally do so to one of the students. By the second, he had several elaborate plans to commit the crime, as well as contingencies for if he was caught. By the time February rolled around, Severus refused to be in the same room as the Nightmare with Teeth for more than a mere handful of minutes, only forced to do so in the Great Hall.

So, when the Hair-Gelled Grin strode in with his blindingly grotesque robes, his confetti, and his army of rather unfortunate dwarves, Severus was ready to gut the man with his butter knife right then and there. It took a forceful removal of his person from the Great Hall to keep from distributing one of those love potions to a Lethifold, a Dementor, and/or a Chinese Fireball Dragon and sicking them on one Gilderoy Lockhart.

They would have to be a hungry Lethifold, an experienced Dementor, and a mother Chinese Fireball, he decided.

1999

The Carrows were sick, sick people, Severus knew.

The Carrows liked to torture innocent people. They were vindictive, cruel, violent, and insane.

The Carrows were informing the Dark Lord of every move he made, Severus knew.

However, Severus also knew that they were gullible and stupid.

When they chose to take Ginny Weasley down to the Dungeons, Severus felt his stomach twist. The Dark Lord had been growing impatient the longer it took to find Potter and his two friends. The latest slaughterings of Muggle-borns and Snatching of anybody weren't doing much to sate his anger, and he'd last taken it out on Alecto. Unfortunately for the D.A., they'd tried the Carrows' anger on the wrong day and were about to pay mightily for it. Severus could only do so much for the various targets of the day, and his hands were tied ten-fold when it came to members of the well-meaning D.A.

(When he'd started referring to a group of desperate students as the D.A., he had no idea.)

But none of that stopped him from wanting to forcibly remove the last thing he'd eaten - a slice of dry toast yesterday morning - when he heard that Weasley was being hauled from their classrooms and into the hallway after third period. Alecto Carrow had the Weasley girl by the roots of her hair and had assigned Detention every day for two weeks.

This was what Phineas Nigellus Black had implied, and that was what had driven Severus out to an early hallway monitoring. He found the duo in a classroom that had turned into one of the "Detention" rooms, and though it seemed Alecto was only at the point of raining insults and pointless questions down, he could see that her anger was at very high levels, levels that were dangerous to the foolish, well-meaning Gryffindor girl.

Alecto's shrill voice was becoming clearer and no less ugly the closer he got. Finally, she broke off her tirade when she spotted Severus. "Ah...Snape," she said. "How nice of you to show! We was just starting detention." The room was long and wide and empty, save for the mess of people on one side. Weasley was bleeding furiously, some already pooling by her crimson hair.

"Headmaster Snape," he corrected with a glower, eyes only burning through Alecto Carrow.

"Headmaster Snapey," she rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, if you get complaints about naughty little children missing class...you'll let it slide to us, alright?"

As much as he wanted to rain his own distaste down on the madwoman, he wasn't dead yet for a reason. "And why should I do that?"

"Ain't it obvious?" She gave a cackle, sounding like a rip-off of Bellatrix Lestrange. "She's to be punished for her misdeeds," she said, eyes ablaze.

"With all due respect — so, none — I wouldn't be missing class if you hadn't pulled me out," the Weasley girl interrupted.

"Silence," Severus hissed, for Alecto had her wand in hand the instant Weasley had spoken. "Do tell: what is today's transgression?"

Alecto laughed. "Why, even you must know what day it is, Headmaster Snape! Well, I found the little wretch with a little something belonging to You-Know-Who." Severus barely held back from rolling his eyes. Most of Britain referred to the Dark Lord as "You-Know-Who," but for some reason, his Death Eaters had begun using the moniker for Potter. It was probably because the Dark Lord had Avada'ed the last stupid follower who dared use Potter's full name in a meeting.

"It's right here," Alecto continued to crow, and waved an old text. Holidays with Hags, by Gilderoy Lockhart, it said, and Severus wondered if he would ever be free of the numbskull. "See, Snape," Alecto said, "Somehow, the little wretch has made it past her first-year, and obviously has no need for this book...if you can even call it a book."

"Obviously," Severus sneered.

"And she wouldn't hand it over." The witch clicked her heels together, like this was a perfect excuse to Crucio a sixteen-year-old girl.

"Return to your classroom," he addressed Alecto. "I will handle this...properly."

Alecto looked disappointed. "Whatever you say, Snape. It is a hol today."

"What, no fight left?" Weasley taunted. She nearly gasped it out, but the hatred was clear as day. Alecto's anger flared again and Severus wanted to reprimand her for not knowing when enough was enough.

"I, unlike you, you little wretch, have respect for my betters, and if the Dark Lord puts Snape in charge, Snape is in charge." This was said with only a little bitterness, but Severus didn't so much as blink. Severus had never been so grateful for the Dark Lord's method of punishment — even this once, it would make his life easier. She threw the book at him, but Severus managed to catch it before it hit him, rather without dignity, in the face. "But he'd better make it good!"

"It will be," Severus said in a low voice. Alecto spat on Weasley's forehead and stepped on her fingers on the way out. Weasley hissed but said nothing. The door slammed shut. He locked the door with a flick of his wrist, eyeing the girl. Severus took a step forward, then another, his shoes clicking against the stone floors. "Stand," he ordered.

Severus had never interrupted a "detention" like this before, and part of him was still feeling fortuitous over it — suspicious, always, but today, he felt, was a strange day. Alecto had mentioned a holiday?

Good grief, what was he even doing? Interrupting a detention?

If the Dark Lord doesn't kill me, he thought, insanity will.

Weasley struggled to comply, her glare never faltering. She pushed herself to her knees, but they gave out when she tried to stand. His wand was out in an instant and he caught her with a silent flick of his wand. Weasley hovered above the floor. He twisted his wrist and she unfolded, standing. Her arms were bleeding beneath her white shirt, and he grimaced to think that Alecto might have even used Sectumsempra. It was unlikely, but not completely impossible.

"What, pray tell, is so special about a book written by a clown like Lockhart?" he mused, flipping through the pages of the sorry excuse for a novel. He let the book fall; the echo made Weasley flinch. He stepped up to her, and flicked his wand. Her sleeves — already cut and rather frayed — rolled themselves up to the elbows. Severus didn't miss the way she cringed, but he held his tongue and examined her inner arms. There were slashes up and down the skin, but they did not look like her own work. "Who did this?" he demanded.

"That toad," she spat. "Who else? I've got enough people who want to stick a knife in my spine; I don't need to add myself to the list."

Severus was growing very dreary. He flicked his wand once more and Weasley went limp, the only thing keeping her from falling his initial spell. Running his wand up and down the unconscious girl's arms, the cuts closed and the blood trickled to a droplet or two. The single portrait in the room gave a dry chuckle, and Severus turned to see the unamused eyes of Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Tell Pomfery to send for a student," he instructed sharply. "Ginerva Weasley is in need of assistance." The portrait disappeared. Severus plucked Weasley from the air and into his arms like a child. Laying her on the floor, he picked up her book. It fell open to the last page, where black ink stood out. The handwriting was familiar but less atrocious than Severus remembered, indicating that at least the brat who'd written it months ago had tried to be legible. It began with My Gin and ended with I promise. Keep your head up, Gin. I'll be back. From, Harry. He looked down at Weasley and noticed the blood speckled on her pale skin. It was like red glitter on a white tablecloth — it never washes out.

Suddenly, it was 1974 again and Severus was in the lavatory on the second floor, burning away a little piece of parchment himself, and wishing he could feel something other than utter disconnect with the 14th of February. Suddenly, it was 1974 again and Severus was the one with the note for a girl with crimson red hair.

When the clock struck midnight, Severus was back in his quarters. Beside him sat an empty bottle of whiskey and a small flask of Sober-Up potion. He was going to need it tomorrow.

1969

Tobias Snape was still busy condemning a good portion of the world when Severus snuck out of the house. It was with no small relief that he practically ran down the streets until he made it to the park. He was almost ten minutes late and was desperately hoping that Lily was still waiting for him. By the time he'd reached their special Rock - their primary meeting place when Petunia wasn't around - he was out of breath from running the whole way.

He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Lily, sitting on the Rock and swinging her legs. Her crimson hair shone brilliantly in the sun and she was humming a little tune.

"Lily," he called.

She turned and brightened, smiling at him sweetly. "Hi, Sev!" The smile turned into a frown, somewhere on the spectrum of joking and accusation. "You're late!"

"Sorry," Severus said, and climbed onto the Rock with her. The Rock was hidden by a grove of trees and it made for a pretty picture. They'd spent all summer lying here in the shade, and though they couldn't quite make it every day once fall had rolled around, the snow had finally melted and the Rock was free for them to use once more.

"I made you a Valentine's Day card!" Lily grinned, and thrust a sparkly card at him. It was a heart cut out from paper, with little white lace around the edges. "Me and Tuney made 'em for our friends 'n' neighbors today. What do you think?"

To: Sev, my best friend, the card read in familiar, loopy handwriting. Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you for being my best friend. Love, Lily. There was a smiley-face, a heart, and a castle drawn on it. There was also red glitter sprinkled all over the card.

"That's Hogwarts, as best as I can guess," Lily explained.

"It's brilliant," Severus said, still admiring the loops of her Ls. She'd told him about the holiday just last year, and this year, he had been determined to return the favor. "I...I made you one too," he said, pulling it from his pocket. It had gotten a little crinkled on the way over, since he'd been running, but the letters he'd painstakingly written in his mother's best pen were still clear as day. To: Lily, his card read. Happy Valentine's Day. You're my best friend. Thank you for telling me about Valentine's Day. From, Sev. There were no pictures on his, for while Severus was many things, he was no artist.

"Thanks, Sev!" Lily said cheerfully. "I love it." And she hugged him, trapping his arms and putting her head on his shoulder. The mass of crimson was all about his face, and he could smell strawberries. Maybe it was her shampoo? It didn't matter, not really. He wriggled his arms free and hugged her back. Over her shoulder, he could see that some of the sparkles from her card had fallen onto his hand. He shook it, but nothing happened; the red glitter remained stuck to his hand. Severus inwardly shrugged; if it never went away, there were worse things to have stuck to one's hand.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said. Valentine's Day, Lily had told him last year, was a celebration of best friends, and if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he and Lily would always be best friends.

Always.

movie suggestion of the day: Kenneth Branagh's direction of Hamlet!