Pictures of Lily

A/N: Sorry about the slow updates. I'm working on my SSHG_Exchange at the same time :) I promise another chapter soon. In the meantime, feedback is always appreciated.

Snape rarely reflected on the past. It was a futile waste of energy, and it never really helped his mood. He was grateful, however. Life as a spy had made him into a people watcher, an observer. He did it all of the time, sometimes unconsciously weighing people up, making a mental note of expression and tone of voice. He was doing it now with Granger, but he was very aware of it this time. He could sense her excitement, but also a touch of nervousness. He hoped it was because she had been just thrown into the case and not because she doubted her own ability. Snape knew he had chosen the right person for the job. He had been following her career closely.

‘Do you want me to check upstairs, Snape?’ Granger asked, and he noted the touch of a waiver in her voice.

‘Yes. Bag anything that might be evidence. I’ll do the rest of the rooms down here.’ Snape felt Granger’s relief as she hurried past him and raised an eyebrow in amusement. They were all wary of him at the start, a throw back to their former relationship as student and professor, and he didn’t blame them. He had not been a nice man at Hogwarts. It was the only way to keep them safe, because people close to him usually died a horrible death. But while closeness was not to be encouraged, Snape did see the value of teamwork and the need to be trusted, and that meant letting his guard down occasionally.

Realising he had been standing still for a good ten minutes just pondering his new colleague, Snape shook himself and walked into the small sitting room. The space was cosy, with a two-seater sofa and matching arm chair. The room was undisturbed, but Snape’s eye was caught by the display of photographs on a shelf in the corner. Casting ‘Lumos,’ he peered closely at the faces in the frames. There was a wedding photograph, the happy couple smiling widely. The bride was obviously the victim but much younger, the groom tall and broad-shouldered, looking adoringly at his new wife. There were other photographs, mostly of the woman. In some she was with her husband, but the one that caught his eye was the victim and her husband with a group of friends. Snape lifted the photograph and carefully placed it into an evidence bag. He scanned the rest of the room and was about to leave when he stepped on what sounded like broken glass. He shone his wand towards the floor and the light glinted off broken shards. He lifted them carefully and examined them. They were bright blue, with tinges of gold at one end. Searching further, Snape found what remained of an earring. Bagging it, he walked back into the hallway and dusted the front door for prints. He was almost finished when Granger reappeared.

‘I found her handbag. There’s ID in it.’

‘Who was she?’

‘Well, that’s the thing.’ Granger bit her lip and eyed him curiously from the bottom stair where she had stopped.

‘Spit it out, woman.’ Snape sighed. He couldn’t bear it when people walked on eggshells around him.

‘According to her driving licence, her name is Lily. Lily Potter.’

***

Hermione walked silently behind Snape as they walked away from the crime scene. He hadn’t said another word to her, and she knew there was nothing she could say to him that wouldn’t sound patronising or contrite. If Hermione had learned anything in her formative years, it was that sometimes saying nothing was the best policy.

In her heart of hearts, Hermione knew it was just coincidence. There must be hundreds of women with the name Lily, and Potter was a common enough surname, but honestly. Why now, on her first day? She was only just finding her feet with Snape, and the last thing she wanted to do was confront him with memories he had quite clearly left in the past. Hermione was starting to drift off into her own recollections of the final battle when Snape suddenly stopped and turned towards her, his face set and his eyes flashing. This was the Snape she remembered, and she mentally steeled herself for a tongue lashing.

‘I don’t need to remind you that my past is not gossip to be shared with your colleagues, Granger, do I?’

Hermione bristled. ‘I think you should know me better than that, Snape. I have never spoken about what happened in the Shrieking Shack to anyone.’

Snape relaxed slightly. ‘Thank you,’ he ground out. ‘You need to learn this, so watch carefully.’

Snape withdrew his wand and moved it in a large arc, murmuring ‘Apirere Portus’ as he did so. Hermione gasped as a Floo appeared before them, and Snape stepped into it. He said ‘Base’ clearly and was gone, leaving Hermione in the middle of an arable field with a magically created fireplace before her. She shook her head and laughed in disbelief before stepping into it. Her life was getting stranger by the minute.

***

Back at base, Snape thundered through the maze of corridors and ignored everyone. Once he reached his office, he slammed the door loudly behind him, a sure sign to everyone that he was not to be disturbed. He hadn’t felt this conflicted in a very long time, and he needed to breathe. How typical that Granger should be here now when his past, so carefully boxed away inside his mind, is rudely brought forward to taunt him.

With a shuddering sigh, Snape slumped into his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t Granger’s fault, but he felt irrationally angry with her. Yet he knew he could trust her. It was six years since the end of the war, and in those six years not one person had alluded to the memories he had so foolishly given to Potter in the belief that he was breathing his last. Had he known that he would survive, he would never have been so rash. Potter had given a wand oath that he would never share what he had seen, but he had at least had the decency to tell him that Granger and bloody Weasley already knew. He had believed him when he had assured him they wouldn’t speak a word of it, and it seemed his trust was well placed. It was ironic that it should surface now, with Granger in his midst. She would be a constant reminder, if he let it get under his skin.

Snape opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a small, silver hip flask. He ran his thumb over the engraving that said ‘To my good friend, Severus’, and smiled sadly. Albus had always been a soft old coot. He took a long slug of the elf-made wine that it held and glanced at the clock. Almost six on Granger’s first day, and a tradition needed to be upheld still.

***

Hermione had followed Snape warily from the Floo room, hanging well back. She knew better than to interrupt him in a temper, but the accusing glances from her new colleagues she could have done without. She held her head high and walked on. Let them think what they liked. She was here to work and that was that.

‘What happened?’ George Weasley stood with his arms folded and leant against the door frame. Hermione wasn’t fooled by his nonchalant stance though. It was obvious that poor George had drawn the short straw and been nominated to get the low down on Snape’s bad mood.

‘Nothing happened. If you want to know why he’s in such a temper, why don’t you ask him?’ Hermione said blandly.

‘I wouldn’t divulge anything, that’s why he doesn’t ask. Isn’t that right, George?’ Snape had slipped up behind them so quietly that Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘Granger, first day protocol dictates that I buy you a welcome drink so come on, before I change my mind. And please tell me you have a taste for something befitting a war hero. I will not buy you a Woo Woo, no matter how nicely you ask.’

George raised his eyebrow at Hermione, who shrugged and followed her new boss.

‘Actually, mine’s a vodka and tonic, Snape,’ she said as she caught up with him.

‘For gods’ sake Granger, call me Severus. Everyone else does.’

Hermione looked at Snape sideways and grinned. She was starting to enjoy this new and improved version.