The Language of Flowers

by: EndlessDaydreaming

New fic! I must warn you though that updates will not be constant nor soon, and might be quite short. This story follows the books a bit except for the Snape, Remus, and Sirius dying part. But I will make changes and input some stuff, so it doesn't completely follow the canon. It's quite AU.

For those who've read by DraMione, The Laws Of Attraction, you might be wondering "Why Snape/Hermione"? Well, because I like Snape. As I said, I'm a sucker for lost causes.

Chapter 1

White Poppy


"Time is too slow for those who wait,

too swift for those who fear,

too long for those who grieve,

too short for those who rejoice,

but for those who love,

time is eternity." - Henry Van Dyke


September 18, 1997

"20 points from Gryffindor. I said slice the newt tails, Weasley, not butcher," boomed Severus Snape's voice, echoing all over the dimly lit dungeons. He had just passed Harry, Ron, and Hermione's table, when he saw something that he didn't like. And it had nothing to do with newt tails.

Nothing at all.

The many Gryffindors in the room snapped their heads up from their cauldrons, completely appalled, as the Slytherins grinned in mischievous delight. It was the third time that the Potions Professor had deducted points from the Lions out of nowhere, and class had just started a mere 15 minutes ago. The Gryffindors had been keeping quiet and were biting back their angry retorts, when Ron, in all his uncontrollable and furious glory, stood up abruptly and said aloud:

"What the bloody hell is your problem?"

His face and ears bright red, Ron was clenching a newly cut-up newt's tail in one of his hands, shaking angrily. His tall and lanky frame loomed over his group's cauldron (they were working in threes today, so it was Harry, Ron, and Hermione), and his stool was knocked down to the floor from his sudden outburst.

Severus, who by then was a few tables away and had his back to Ron, merely gritted his teeth in annoyance. If only you knew, Weasley. If only you knew...

"Another 20 points from Gryffindor," drawled Severus, his hands firmly clasped behind him.

He walked on, ignoring the still-standing Ron. Severus continued to pretend he was examining the other students' work, when deep inside his mind was actually somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away, in the land of chocolate brown eyes and ever-flowing hair...

"Y-You can't do that!" spluttered Ron, his face contorting in rage.

Severus had had enough. He whirled around to face Ron.

"I suggest you keep your mouth closed, Mr. Weasley. I had assumed that with the Gryffindors' so-called 'bravery and courage' came much sheer stupidity and utter foolishness. I can see now that I was, as always, correct. Now, before I deduct more points from your house, Mr. Weasley, sit down," drawled Severus, his face as emotionless as ever.

His heart and mind, however, were just as furious as Ron Weasley was. He couldn't stand it anymore – not another day, not another hour, not another minute, not another second...

His cold eyes flickered to her. She was seated next to Ron, with Harry on her other side. Chewing her bottom lip nervously as she had always done. She looked at Ron pleadingly, as if telling him to just sit back down.

Severus remembered that time: she was looking at him just like that. Eyes pleading earnestly, telling him her last piece of advice, she had looked into his eyes – his soul. She had looked more like she did now: a woman of 17 years of age. He remembered her body pressed up against him, encasing him in a tight hug. He remembered stroking her curly hair and the soft and velvety feel of it as it slipped through his fingers. He remembered her lips pressed lightly on his, and vividly recalled her pulling away tearfully and slowly backing away.

And then she left. She left, and he hadn't seen her in a long, long time. He had waited, waited for so long, only to see her again as a 11 year-old. That had been years ago.

And now? Now he was still waiting. It had been over a decade of nothing but loneliness – of solitude, and he was still waiting. He had to watch her grow up, watch her smile and laugh with her friends, as he grew older and older by the minute, practically rotting away. He couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't stand another minute of the solitude.

He knew it was juvenile to constantly deduct points from the Gryffindors simply because Ron Weasley was being overly-familiar with her. The boy had his arm around her, for Merlin's sake! Minutes later, the boy had been holding her hand. And just recently, he had been encircling her waist with an arm.

That was why Severus Snape was irritated. He was actually beyond irritated, that no word could sufficiently describe his irritation. There was only one thing in his mind right now, and that was:

Hermione is mine. MINE. Do NOT touch her.

Hermione sighed again as she tried to block out Ron's rant. She scooped more potatoes for herself. It was a good thing lunch was right after Potions – she was starving!

"He should be more grateful, that git! Harry saved him from Nagini and Voldemort, and this is how he repays us?" complained Ron, spluttering food all over the table.

"Ronald, don't talk when your mouth is full," said Hermione carelessly, eying the bits of chewed food on the table with disgust.

She had long gotten used to Snape's unfair treatment when it came to the Gryffindors. He had always been that way, ever since their first year; but the level of his mistreatment seemed to have heightened ever since Voldemort died. Snape had returned to teach Potions in Hogwarts, his real identity as a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix revealed to the whole school. Everyone respected him, now, and admired him for what he had done, but that didn't mean they didn't think he was an insufferable git at times.

"I honestly thought he'd be much nicer after the war," said Harry, munching on his chicken.

"Really? I can't imagine a smiling and laughing Snape at all," giggled Ginny, who sat right beside Harry.

The group tried to imagine it, only to end up stifling a laugh seconds later.

"I think he was already born with that scowl on his face," said Seamus with his Irish accent. "Imagine his mum and dad giving birth to a baby, raising him up to take a look, only to shriek as he scowled down at them with his huge nose!"

Ron was flat out laughing, Harry was trying his best not to, and Ginny had a hand on her mouth, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Hermione and Neville were the only ones who weren't laughing.

"Guys, quit it before he catches us," whispered Hermione as she risked a glance at the Head Table.

Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress, sat at the center. She was talking quite animatedly with Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, who was on her left. Beside the stubby Charms teacher was a sour-looking Snape. He was silently eating his lunch, when suddenly his bottomless black eyes flickered to Hermione's.

Quickly looking away, she drank her pumpkin juice as if nothing happened. She didn't want any more trouble with Snape, especially since she had a reputation to uphold – she was Head Girl, after all. Besides that reason, though, she just didn't feel like making fun of Snape. Sure, he was mean and insufferable, but he had his own reasons for being so. People were surely not born that way. People weren't born dark, bitter, and apprehensive. Something must have happened in his past to turn him into how he was now.

Hermione knew quite a bit about him already, actually. He had a bad childhood, lost the love of his life, and made tons of wrong decisions. It sounded like it wasn't much, but how could anyone ever truly know? How could anyone judge when they weren't him, when they weren't the ones going through those tough times?

What if...what if he hadn't made all of those bad decisions? What if he didn't join the Death Eaters? Would he change? Would he be as he was before he joined Voldemort had he not joined the cause? What was he like before that, anyway? Was he..happier? Hermione thought as she tuned out on the group's conversation.

She knew that Severus Snape was just a misunderstood man. He was someone who had many walls around him, protecting all of his emotions deep inside. It was as if he was hiding himself from the world, putting out a tough shell for society, instead. He was always expressionless, as if he was used to keeping his feelings locked away. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd think he was protecting himself from getting hurt...

Hermione stood up, her friends looking up at her.

"Library?" Harry asked.

"Um, yeah," she lied. Hermione hated lying to her friends, but she knew that if she told them what she was up to, they'd want to come along. And that, would be a very bad idea, indeed.

She walked out of the Great Hall, her bag slung over her shoulder, only to realize that McGonagall was still eating lunch.

Well, then. I'll just head to the library and research first. There was a book on the Laws of Time-Turners...

"Ms. Granger, I must warn you that you have to be very, very careful," said Minerva, eying the time-turner in Hermione's hands.

"Yes, Professor. I will," smiled Hermione.

"You never fail to surprise me. I didn't think you were one to take interest in Professor Snape's affairs. Though I cannot hide my doubts about this plan of yours, I do know that you are exceptionally bright. I know you mean well, and perhaps this would be for the good of Severus, but please, don't do anything big, Ms. Granger. Just...get the information you need, and then when you get back, we'll try to talk to Severus. Don't-"

"Change anything. I know, Professor. I'll be careful. I read up on the laws of Time-Turners. Well, they aren't really laws, just theories, but I'll be sure to follow them," said Hermione.

"Oh, yes. You did mention something about my having to cover up for your absence?" asked Minerva, peering over her spectacles.

"Yes, Professor. As I'll be going back in time to many years ago, my absence in the present will be noticeable. According to a theory in the book, one month in the past is equal to, more or less, a day in the present. I promise I'll be back within a week," replied Hermione, fingering the spine of the book in her hands, entitled, Time-Turners And Its Magical Uses – An Expert's Guide To More About Time-Turners.

"Alright. Leave everything to me," said Minerva, smiling fondly at her student.

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione, smiling back.

"Well, yes. Get going, now. Remember, you have to be back within a week; wouldn't want to miss a lot of your lessons, would you?" smiled Minerva.

"Of course, not Professor," grinned Hermione. She turned around and headed for the door.

"And Ms. Granger?" McGonagall called.

"Yes, Professor?" said Hermione, stopping and turning around.

"Remember what I told you about what you should tell my past self," said Minerva softly, her eyes softening a bit.

She suddenly looked quite downcast. Hermione simply nodded, and placed a hand on the door's handle.

Hermione left the Headmistress' office, feeling the time-turner's weight on her neck. As she closed the door behind her, she looked up and saw a flower on the floor. She walked towards it, studying it. It was a white Poppy, in full bloom. It looked...well, beautiful. Its one big petal was as white and unblemished as snow, encircling the middle of the flower, which was a bright orange.

Flowers had always been unusually laid out near her, and Hermione had a nagging feeling it had something to do with Ron. But that was impossible; he wasn't one who knew Floriography. Ever since she came to Hogwarts, there were instances were she found random flowers lying in the open for her to see. Perhaps it wasn't for her, but she was always alone when she saw them. It wasn't often, maybe just around 2 times a year, but she had always liked to decipher the meanings of the flowers that seemed to beckon to her. She had yet to see one this year, so this was a first.

Hermione had always loved flowers, and remembered getting a book about Floriography, the language of flowers, as a Christmas Gift from someone years ago. And of course, being the Brightest Witch Of The Age, she knew exactly what this Poppy meant:


Picking the flower up, she quickly thought of someone who could possible be happy now as she walked briskly to her dorm. After all, she had work to do.

Severus watched as Hermione left the Defense Against The Dark Arts room quickly, with a quick "See you later," to her friends. He was substituting for Remus Lupin, since it was that time of month.

It was the night of the full moon.

Curious as to why Hermione Granger was rushing out so quickly when this was, in fact, the last class for the day, Severus followed her inconspicuously. He stayed a long way behind her, only seeing a bit of her curly brown hair as she turned every corner. When she stepped into the revolving staircase that led to the Headmistress' office, Severus felt his heart thump loudly – something he had last felt years ago...

When she left.

He only ever felt that way when something big was about to happen. Severus knew, then, that this was it. This was what he was waiting for. This is what he had been waiting for, for more than a decade!

With a shaky hand, Severus reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. He conjured a white flower, and laid it on the floor before walking away, a hand on the wall to steady himself as he went.

Just like always, when he was having particularly strong feelings, he left Hermione a flower.

This time, it was a Poppy.

He was happy.

A/N: Visit my profile for more of my stories! Join the forum I recently made for DraMione fans! (link in my profile) :)