Greetings! I am dreamsbeyondnightmares, and this is my first story for fanfiction (or posted anywhere for that matter...)
This is a concept just that popped into my head after this song came on the radio and demanded that I write it.
Anyway, I welcome constructive reviews and criticism :) Thanks, DbN
Disclaimer: Everything pertaining to the Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, not me, and the song is Even Now, which is sung by Barry Manilow, among others. Only the words of the story are my own.
Even Now
---
The raindrops beat a steady, lonely pulse on the roof of the darkened and otherwise silent house. Lightning crackled, followed shortly by a great boom of thunder- the light illuminating the face of the petite brunette slowly making her way through the front door.
She was drenched from head to toe, even after pulling off her overcoat and boots. Her white MediWitch robes were plastered to her body, clinging determinedly to every curve, both wanted and not. Her nut-brown hair fell in tight, wet ringlets over her shoulders, and she pushed a stray curl out of her eyes as she tossed her briefcase onto the kitchen table.
The living room was meticulously tidy, and was filled from wall to wall with books, along with the odd Chudley Cannons Poster. The witch switched on a lamp and tiptoed into the bathroom which had been expertly decorated in a seashore motif years before. Hermione Granger was far too tired to bother with a drying charm tonight.
--
Severus Snape lay awake in the darkness of his rooms, staring out at the filmy black of the dungeon ceiling. Although he could not see the storm that racked the countryside around Hogwarts castle, he was not far from a similar state of mind.
Frustrated at his inability to sleep and grumbling to himself foul naturedly, he slid out of the characteristically green satin sheets that decorated the four poster bed, and made his way to the fireplace. With a whispered incantation, the logs burst into flames, illuminating the haunted expression on the normally stoic man's weathered face. He turned once more to the small cabinet that held the solution to the night's insomnia.
--
Squeezing the water out of her hair, Hermione paused to stare at herself in the mirror. She inspected the wet folds of her robes, now almost see through in their saturated state. There was a time when this would have pleased her, but now, after a few more children than planned, the curves they revealed were slightly more…abundant…than she would have liked. She knew that Ron would love her no matter what she looked like, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder what he would think…
Even now
When there's someone else who cares
When there's someone home who's waiting just for me…
She sighed, and shivered slightly, wrapping her arms even closer around herself in exhaustion. It had been a hard day at work, and an even harder commute home. How could she relax when she had seen his scowling face in every shadow in Diagon Alley? It had been years, and he had yet to relinquish his hold on her mind, her body, her very soul.
Even now I think about you as I'm climbing up the stairs
And I wonder what to do so she won't see
Tears welled in her eyes as she shivered, staring at her reflection in despair. What would he think, to see her now, after the war and the following years had left their marks on her face.
The tears began to flow freely, and she went to slam the door in frustration. She wanted to break something, to scream at the top of her lungs for as long as it took to rid her heart of the ripping, tearing pain that had been gnawing away at it for years.
At the last minute, she remembered where she was, and stopped the door, her hand slippery on the brass doorknob.
The twins were now off at school with their older sister, the baby, little Fred, was still at home, and seemed to be sleeping soundly for once. No need to wake him, she admonished herself. Or Ron, for that matter.
She shut the door quietly, before sneaking over the kitchen and pouring herself a nice, big shot from the bottle of firewhiskey she kept behind her much used copy of Hogwarts, A History. It HAD been a hard week after all, she reasoned. Her husband could wait a few more minutes while she regained her composure.
That even now
When I know it isn't right
And I've found a better life than what we had…
However, sitting there staring out into the grey depths of the storm, her mind once more turned to a pair of steely black eyes, that alabaster skin, and that rare, robust laughter that had haunted her dreams and thoughts for the last fifteen years. She found herself wondering, not for the first time that night, were he might be- and if he ever thought of her, as she thought of him.
No. Of course not. His actions had made that abundantly clear. More than clear. It was time to move on, had been for years. So why couldn't she?
'Why does he keep coming back? Why can't the past just die?' She whispered, despair creeping into her voice.
She downed her third firewhiskey in one swift gulp and slammed the shot glass down onto the hard wood of the desk almost too forcefully. She couldn't do this, she wouldn't let herself. She could not keep betraying Ron, her family, her life like this. It just wasn't right.
'Of course it's not.' A little voice in her head told her, scathingly. 'He isn't the one up there, not the one waiting to hold you, to love you. That's what's not right.' And she agreed.
She shook the thought from her head, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
'Hermione? Is that you?' A voice called, sleepily. 'Come to bed dear, its late.'
Startled, Hermione quickly tucked the bottle behind the books, her heart pounding. She took one last melancholy look out at the storm and reluctantly began the long ascent up to her, their, bedroom, holding onto the railing for dear life. All the while with that twisted smirk playing in her mind, her knees weak from remembering.
Even now I wake up crying in the middle of the night
And I can't believe it still could hurt so bad.
--
The glass of the cabinet door chattered against its wood casing, and Severus looked down and saw that his hand was shaking.
Disgusted with himself, he slammed the small door open and pulled out the emerald green vial he sought. His salvation, bottled.
Downing it in its entirety, he carelessly flung the empty container into the darkness, and smirked in fleeting satisfaction as he heard the faint tinkling of glass shattering against thick grey flagstones. 'Take that!' He thought, not entirely sure what he meant.
Even now
When I have come so far…
He paced the floor, waiting for the warm numbness of the potion to creep into his veins at last. Just like the countless times before, his little green friend was always there to take all of the feelings, all of the hurt away at last. For a while at least. Ah, the privileges of being a Potion's master.
He found his eyes straying to the locked drawer of his personal desk, and the picture he knew lay hidden there. He hadn't taken it out in forever, had promised himself that last time would be the end of it. His fingers twitched, yearning for the glass surface and the metal frame they knew so well. No. Definitely not, he wouldn't, not this time.
But then again, what could one more time hurt?
Before he knew it he had fished the key from its hiding place in between the pages of a tattered copy of Most Potente Potions, thrown open the drawer. Before he knew it he was running his eyes, his cold, long fingers over the glassy and muted stillness of her muggle photograph. It was the closest he could get to touching her now.
I wonder where you are
I wonder why it's still so hard without you
Even now
He didn't understand how he could miss her so much, could feel the absence of her bushy hair and that insipid know-it-all grin so keenly, so painfully, even after all these years.
He should be thrilled! Happy to have her intrusion into his life end- to have resigned himself once more to the quiet and peaceful, uninterrupted life he loved so much. He was thrilled. Wasn't he?
But he taught her children now- her multitudes of red haired, freckled, know-it-all children; each brilliant, each an annoyingly proud and pompous Gryffindor, each a testament to another horrific betrayal. Severus saw her in each of them, along with him, and the thought of that pale, freckled body on top of his, HIS Hermione was enough to drive him mad.
Even now
When I never hear your name
And the world has changed so much since you've been gone…
'I bet she welcomes him too.' He thought, cynically. 'Bet she spreads those fantastic legs of hers for him each night, oh so willingly. I wonder if she ever thinks of me while he is thrusting inside her- wonder if she even remembers what it's like to be with a real man. To be with me.'
Even now I still remember and the feeling's still the same
And the pain inside of me goes on and on
Fuming, he hurled the picture against the stone wall, and its shattered glass fragments joined the remnants of the green vial on the floor of the dungeon, before storming angrily off towards his bed.
'She and that dunderhead husband of hers can rot for all I care.' He sneered.
--
Hermione stumbled into the bedroom, trying hard to be quiet and not wake Ron, by this time too drunk to remember that her husband was already awake. She began to undress sloppily, leaving a trail of soggy wet clothing behind her as she staggered towards the bed. Naked, she fell ungracefully onto the sheets with a surprisingly loud thud. She groaned, and then hiccupped.
Ron smiled in approval at his wife's state of undress and pulled her across the sheets to him, kissing her deeply.
"Finally come home, have you then? And all ready for a bit of fun..." He whispered, his hands going to the waistband of his boxers. "Merlin, 'Mione, I want you tonight."
Her unfocused eyes half closed, she kissed him back half heartedly, giving herself over to his passion in the desperate search to feel something, anything, besides the emptiness she felt inside.
Too soon he was above her, his hardness moving inside her in a frenzied hurry. Ron was ever the overeager puppy he had been when they first made love. How could she explain to him what she needed? What she longed for?
In her mind, another pair of lips assaulted her own, the body above hers long and lean and pale, with ebony hair falling over even darker eyes. And oh, the lover he had been. Still was, in her mind. The patterns he drew on her skin, the cries of sublime ecstasy that he had drawn from her lips, her flesh.
Even now
When I come shining through
I swear I think of you…
The need inside her, that lust that had gone unquenched for so many years surged again, demanding satisfaction.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, and pushed herself harder against the lovemaking of her husband, the ebony gaze of her professor fixed in her mind's eye. Her orgasm washed over her. It was all she could do to keep from crying his name aloud. Severus.
Even now
That I have come so far
I wonder where you are…
Ron finished shortly after, her name on his lips, and with a grunt rolled off of her and pulled her body against his. He was fast asleep within minutes as usual, but Hermione could not follow. A tear rolled down her cheek, as the longing in her breast throbbed more insistently. She fought to suppress the wave of nausea that washed over her, furious at herself, at her body and its betrayal of both the man she loved, and the man she had married.
How had she ever let her life go astray so far? She closed her eyes, and with tears rolling silently down her cheeks, waited for the cool relief of sleep to take her away from the world.
I wonder why it's still so hard without you
Even now
--
Severus lay quiet and subdued on the cold flagstone of the dungeon floor. The effects the emerald potion had begun to work their magic on his body and mind, and he felt for a moment as if he was spiraling off into an endless expanse of warm black nothingness.
He reached out a tentative, languorously heavy hand and was only briefly startled as it encountered sharp glass shards, and glossy smooth paper.
Faintly, he remembered destroying the frame in a moment of despair; he frowned slightly, remorse suppressed by the narcotic haze.
Even now
When I come shining through
I swear I think of you
And God I wish you knew somehow
He drew the picture to his chest, and stared into the eyes of the woman he loved as he let the drug carry his consciousness away into blissful, dreamless sleep. Hermione.
Even now.