I own nothing, anything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling, and I don't make money by writing fanfiction. English isn't my first language.

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, Lily, please..."

"No! No, Snape, and that's my final word! Don't you dare say anything more! You insulted me to my face, and I've had enough. Our friendship is done. Go away and don't come back, däyou hear?!"

She left in a flurry of red hair and furious green eyes, and Severus slowly departed, hearing laughter and giggles from other students.

"Happy now, Snivellus?" Black jeered. He had his wand out, Potter next to him, Pettigrew bouncing on his toes behind them, and Lupin trailing behind them all, looking uncomfortable. "Lost your only proper friend, you slimy and greasy little shite..."

"That's enough!"

The laughter stopped. Black looked like he might piss his pants, Pettigrew had suddenly fled, and Lupin was blushing as the most feared Professor of Hogwarts approached them

"Detention, Black, Potter, Lupin, for a month, every evening at seven o'clock, with Filch. Don't think I haven't heard of your disgusting little trick on Mr Snape. And you can tell Pettigrew the same, when you fish him out of whatever little hole he's hidden himself into. And fifty points from Gryffindor... for each of you! Get back to your common room right NOW!" bellowed the Head of Slytherin House, his dark eyes filled with rage. "As for the rest of you: shame on you all! Mr Snape, a word if you please," he added in a lower voice, and strode into his office on the third floor. The large wardrobe in the middle of the floor rattled: another Boggart, Severus knew.

"Sit down, Mr Snape," Professor Riddle commanded, and Severus took the seat across the table as the Professor himself took his seat and looked at him calmly. He was pale, dark-haired, his eyes were dark, and he had a small beard.

"I heard what happened, Severus. You defended yourself admirably against a surprise attack of many adversaries. Twenty points to Slytherin."

Severus nodded to his Head of house, but kept his silence.

"You had devised the spell they used against you?"

Severus nodded again.

"And the cutting curse you used?"

Another nod.

"You show exceptional skill and talent for one so young, crafting your own spells at your age. If you wish, I will once again speak with Headmaster Dumbledore about bullying, but as you know, it is difficult to control. If you wish, I can tutor you in defensive casting and shielding to give you more of an edge against such attacks. Would that help a bit?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied. His voice was low, his eyes fixed on the table, his whole countenance radiated pain.

"I know it is difficult, Severus," his Head of house spoke softly. "My own childhood wasn't easy either. It took a great deal of work to get over all the pain. You do know I'm half-blood, same as you?"

The boy nodded silently. Professor Riddle's blood-status was widely known, but not even the wealthiest pure-blood Slytherin dared to ridicule the stern Professor for it.

"Your background doesn't make you worse than the pure-bloods like Potter or Black. Your heart, your skills, your mind... those are the things that count. My adopted father tends to say that," Professor Riddle said, and a small serene smile graced his usually stern face, like it usually did, when he spoke of his slightly dotty but kind adopted father.

"You lost a friend today?" Professor Riddle asked with a soft voice.

Severus swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir. She doesn't... I was just so angry."

"You used a terrible word, I agree, and she had the right to be angry, Severus, but I would also say that a true, real friend forgives when the apology is heartfelt. I overhead your apologies. If she ever was a true friend, she'll forgive you. If not..." The Professor shrugged.

"She's special. She's so beautiful, so perfect," Severus mumbled, honest in his opinions.

"She's also a vain and rather shallow young girl," Professor Riddle said. "Don't glare at me, boy, I've taught longer than you've been alive, and I do know girls like her. If she doesn't forgive you, keep in mind that a true friend would have, and that no matter how pretty she is, she's not the only pretty young thing out there. Nor is she the most talented, intelligent or even the kindest one that this world holds. Now... do you feel well enough to return to your dormitory?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied.

"Good. I'll come around tomorrow and discuss the extra lessons. You're still receiving tutoring from Professor Slughorn?"

"Yes, sir," Severus replied, his thin chest slightly more puffed with pride.

"Good. Professor Slughorn is very proud of your skills. You'll make Slytherin House proud one day, Mr Snape. But before you go..." Tom Riddle looked very seriously at Severus.

"The word you used of Miss Evans... Mudblood. You do realise that it's a very degrading name, and one I sincerely wish I'll never hear from a Slytherin, especially from a young man who shows such promise. Do we have an understanding, Mr Snape?"

"Yes, Professor," Severus replied. The Head of Slytherin was a stern but fair man, and his wife Myrtle was a Muggle-born: a few years younger than Professor Riddle, she'd been in Ravenclaw, and school gossip said that Professor Riddle had stopped the others from bullying her before they'd started walking together. As such, 'Mudblood' was a word that prohibited in the Slytherin house, although the pure-bloods such as Mulciber, Avery and Rosier used it frequently — and never when Professior Riddle was around.

"Off you go, then, Mr Snape," Professor Riddle dismissed him.

"Professor..." Severus said quietly.

"Yes, Mr Snape?"

"You said there are other, prettier girls... but..."

"I never believed in it myself," Professor Riddle said, "although my father always keeps talking about how love is the greatest power in the world. Then I met my wife, Myrtle... she'd been crying you see? But she was absolutely furious at me for disturbing her, especially in the girl's bathroom. She opened the door so hard it slammed and she shouted at me, and her eyes were huge and furious, and that's when I knew."

"Knew?"

"Yes. I think my heart recognised her at that very moment, when she was really furious. I knew then and there I'd one day marry her."

Severus nodded, his black eyes thoughtful.

"I'd seen her before, of course, and I hadn't felt it before, and I'd even dated a girl in my own year, but when I saw Myrtle's eyes, I simply knew. It's a knowledge inside. It's magic some of us have. Not everyone experiences that moment, I think, but the greatest blessing is when it does come. Did you feel that with Miss Evans? That moment of realisation?"

Severus was silent for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, sir."

"Then perhaps your true love is still waiting for you, somewhere along the way? There are many types of love, but the truest form for us magical beings is the shattering moment of knowledge. It's not destiny or fate, and you can fight it, and you can even break it, but it's the truest form of magical love there is."

Severus looked calmer now: more composed.

"Good. You can always talk to me if you feel like it. Now, on your way, Mr Snape."

Severus had been teaching Potions for years when he finally met her. He'd thought about what Professor Riddle — or Tom, now that they were colleagues — had said about the moment when one just knew and recognised the other one. It'd been a very bad day: James Potter's oldest brat was being his usual annoying self, disturbing the class and giggling inanely with his mate, the next one in the seemingly endless supply of Weasleys. There'd been a staff meeting, and Albus had assigned him to chaperone a Hogsmeade-weekend with Vector, out of all the annoying people in the castle.

The frizzy-haired and buck-toothed girl was furious. Potter was shooting paper balls at her. She was waving her hand in the air yet again, without a doubt armed with yet another question about the essay he'd just assigned, when a paper ball from Potter Jr. disturbed her.

"Sit down and be quiet, Potter!" Severus bellowed. "Five points from Gryffindor. And stop displaying your affection for Miss Granger in the classroom!"

The girl turned at him immediately, and her brown eyes were absolutely livid.

Her eyes were warm and so softly brown, and then, Severus just... knew.

She was so very young then, so terribly young, and he was probably her least favourite teacher: he was the greasy-haired Professor, with yellowed and crooked teeth and a nose like a huge beak, but he knew. And when she looked at him, he was suddenly certain that she knew, too, for she blushed furiously and lowered her gaze. Everyone else probably mistook it for embarrassment, but Severus knew.

But she was so young, too young, and liaisons between teachers and students were against the school rules, but he knew, and she knew, and one day she wouldn't be his student any more.

"Finnigan, Seamus," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore called for the next graduating wizard, who moved to take his diploma from the Headmaster and shook his hand, then moving to shake hands with the Deputy Headmaster Riddle, and then the rest of the teachers.

"Goldstein, Anthony," Albus called. The Great Hall was packed with familiar and unfamiliar faces: Severus suppressed the urge to hex Sirius Black, who was flirting with some married witch seated next to him, trying to be surreptitious and failing. Black and Potter were low-level Aurors now: they'd taken their sweet time getting into the Aurory, with their disciplinary records showing a short time of suspension from Hogwarts for assaults on a fellow student, but they'd made it. Lily Potter was sitting between Black and Potter: she was hissing something to her husband, whose eyes were drifting towards another, younger and fitter witch. The rumours said he cheated on her quite regularly, especially since she was frequently pregnant and had lost some of her beautiful figure in a struggle against Honeydukes' chocolates. The expression on Lily Potter's face was bitter. She'd tried to catch Severus' eye, but Severus felt nothing, and he'd pretended not to notice her. She'd been beautiful once, though not the great and unbeatable beauty he'd once thought she'd been. Quite a bit of Lily Potter's beauty was achieved by the use of various potions and cosmetics, and he could see several witches far more beautiful than she was or had ever been.

Finnegan shook his hand, his expression speaking of suppressed resentment. He was too scathing and sarcastic and sullen to be anyone's favourite Professor. Goldstein followed soon, his expression guarded but distaste evident in his gestures and in his eyes.

"Granger, Hermione," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore called, and the young witch, the sweet little bushy-haired know-it-all, walked up to him and took her diploma. Gregory Goyle should have been called before her, but the dunderhead had been forced to repeat years, and Severus doubted he'd ever gain his N.E.W.T.s.

"Miss Granger has graduated with the highest grades since 1978, and one of the ten best grades in the history of the founding of the school," Headmaster Dumbledore added, and thunderous applauds filled the air. Her parents were beaming with pride. Mr Granger looked at Severus, smiled and nodded, before he turned his eyes back to his daughter. The parents of the Muggle-born students were only ever allowed to arrive for the graduation ceremony.

Hermione shook hands with various Professors, although both Minerva and Filius hugged their favourite student. Vector was much too stiff to do so, but she smiled at her. Finally she reached him, and she was beaming at him.

A brief glance at Albus and Tom confirmed it: both the men nodded and smiled at him in confirmation, and Severus Snape scooped Hermione Granger into his arms and kissed her there, in front of the whole crowd. The girl wrapped her arms around him and laughed in delight, and her lips tasted so sweet, and her eyes were full of promise of a good future.

Various students gasped, some out of shock, others out of disgust. Miss Lovegood seemed serene and unsurprised, Potter Jr looked nauseated, and the second-youngest Weasley progeny looked furious and jealous. The rest of the staff cheered, Albus' voice the loudest and Tom's face was filled with pride. But the expressions on the faces of the former Marauders were the second best thing that day: Lupin didn't seem to pay attention to anything but Nymphadora Tonks beside him and the baby in her arms, but Sirius Black and James Potter looked outraged, furious and thrillingly jealous. And Lily Potter's face was red with furious jealousy as Severus Snape swung the young girl in his arms and smiled at her, his black eyes filled with warmth, and the young witch beamed at him with her sweet, brown eyes.

They'd stolen a kiss or perhaps a round dozen before during the last two years, after she'd become of age, but they'd otherwise kept an appropriate, respectful distance: now they were free, and she was no longer his student, and he was no longer her teacher. He'd spoked with Mr Granger and Mrs Granger on several occasions, and in his pocket he had a ring. He'd practised his speech, and he was certain she'd say yes.

Because he'd seen her eyes, and she'd seen his, and then they both knew.