4. Shithead
H.
Hermione awoke on the sofa, stiff and confused. She stared at the clock on the mantelpiece, that read twenty past eight. She pulled open the curtains and discerned that from position of the sun in the sky that it had to be morning, which meant that she'd slept for fourteen hours. She showered off the night before and took a little more care than usual when deciding what to wear. She pulled on her favourite pair of jeans and a white lace shirt that both Ron and Harry had complimented her on before. For Harry to take notice, it must have been something special. Ron would have fawned over her in a boiler suit.
She pulled half of her hair up into a ponytail, leaving the lower layer to cascade down her back. She secured the pony into an elastic and pulled it tight. It had been years, literally years, since she had done something different with her hair. It had been the night of the Yule Ball. She'd wrestled her curls for hours before Parvati told her about a charm that would soften her hair and make it more manageable. She considered doing the charm now, but she didn't want to look as though she had made an effort.
This is ridiculous, she told herself, and walked away from the mirror, shaking her hair so that it looked a little less put together. Snap out of it.
She knocked on Severus' door but he did not answer. She couldn't be sure if he was still not talking to her or he was sleeping off the inevitable hangover that came from emptying her father's liquor cabinet in the night.
Did he think I wouldn't notice?
She tried not to think about her father, because the thoughts that accompanied them frightened her. The battle was won, so she could return to them and bring them home.
What if they're happy where they are? What if I can't reverse the memory charm? What if they never remember who I - Nope! We're not doing this.
She knocked again on the door, louder than before. A groaning from inside the room told her that he was, at least, alive, although he sounded much aggrieved by the fact.
"Piss off", he grumbled.
Do you ever say anything else, you miserable bastard?
She held her thoughts captive.
Nope. Be nice. He has every right to be angry with you.
Hermione hated it when she knew that someone was unhappy with her. She knew, rationally, that someone else's opinion of you was out of your control, but Hermione hated to be without control. She had carefully crafted her life so that everything was within her limits. She didn't like to think about how this probably stemmed from the absolute chaos of her life. She dominated Harry and Ron; her parents too. She had sent them off to Australia on the off-chance that her parents' secret-kept house in the middle of a muggle dwelling filled with thousands of people, was not entirely safe from Death Eaters. She knew it was a problem, but being aware of your flaws, and getting a handle on them, are two very different things.
"Let me in", she said, softly, "please? I just want to talk to you".
"I'm not stopping you", he said.
Hermione sat with her back against Severus' door and hitched her knees up, wrapping her arms around them in self-soothing comfort.
"I'm sorry", she said.
His mumbled groan of a reply was not the outright rejection of her apology that she had anticipated.
"Are you okay?" she asked, and the concern in her voice was evident.
"Yes", he said. "Fine. Hungover."
"Do you need a glass of water?"
Snape scoffed.
"I've been drunk many times before, Granger, I know to stay hydrated."
She straightened her back and rested her head on the door.
"Right. Sorry."
:
S.
Shit, I should have thought of that.
"Aguamenti", he whispered and filled the glass on the bedside table.
"I really am sorry", she said, and she sounded as though she was sincere. "I for one am glad that you're okay..."
Pah. Right. Sure.
"I'm sorry about sending the patronus too", she said. "I just wanted to make sure that they knew I was okay. When we were on the run, Ron left for a while and I spent every minute of every day terrified that something had happened to him. I didn't want him to feel the same way... do you understand?"
Of course I understand. I'm not incapable of empathy.
"Yes", he muttered. "I do."
"But you're still angry?"
"What do you care if I am angry with you."
It was her turn to scoff then.
"Because you're here and I have to share space with you and it won't surprise you to know that I don't like to live in silence."
"You're right that's not a surprise."
"It's a comfort thing. I'm not crazy or anything, I swear, I just... I'm frightened of it."
Her candor surprised him, and he moved towards the door. He considered opening it, allowing her to enter, but he was not quite ready. Instead he sat with his back to the wall beside the door and ran his hands across the carpet, picking at the fibers.
"Frightened of what?"
"Of silence."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because when it's quiet, I'm alone with my thoughts."
He turned his head to look at the door, and imagined that he saw her face.
"Why?" he asked again. "Why are you afraid to be alone with your thoughts?"
"Because my thoughts quickly turn to memories..."
Tell me about it.
"What memory in particular is bothering you?"
She took a breath, so deep and so sharp that he heard it from behind the door.
"Bellatrix... when she tortured me at the Malfoys -"
He snapped upright, grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. As she lost her balance, leaning on the frame as she was, he caught her and pushed her steady with long fingers.
"She did what?!"
"You didn't know?" she asked.
Severus shook his head.
"What did she do to you?"
Hermione hiked her jumper over her head and pulled the straps of her shirt down from her collarbone. Cuts, scars, burns, spell damage...
I've seen worse. I've had worse.
... Bite marks.
She bit her!? She's deranged.
Then Hermione looked away and gently extended her hand, palm up, and it took him a moment to realise what she was showing him. A scar; not just any scar, on the inside of her arm. He covered his lips with his hand, and his mouth fell lightly agape, as he ran his thumb across its length. She didn't recoil as he had expected, instead she closed her eyes, and he thought he saw the flutter of a smile in the corner of her mouth that did not cross her lips.
:
H.
"I had no idea", he said; his voice lighter than ever she'd heard it. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
Hermione?
Snape rubbed his thumb across the letters and her skin bristled under his coarse touch. Instead of shrinking from it, she found its comfort. It was as though he thought he could erase them. If only he could.
"If I had known..." he said, but his words trailed off to silence.
If you had known... what? What would you have done?
Eventually he asked, "and it is this that affects you?"
"Yes, but only sometimes."
"When did it happen?"
His voice was steady again and had returned to its typical cadence.
"I assume you know that we broke into Gringotts..." she said.
He stifled a smile.
"Yes. I must admit, I'm impressed you pulled that off."
"Thank you".
She beamed; proud to have pleased her teacher.
Don't be ridiculous, she thought, and the smile fell from her face.
"Well, just before we broke into the Lestranges' vault, Snatchers caught us and delivered us the Malfoys. We had The Sword of Gryffindor, which was supposed to be -"
Snape lifted his head and dropped it backwards; with a thud it hit the door. As it did, he bit his lip, his gritted teeth catching his flesh so hard that he drew blood. He drew his fingers to the cut, pulled them away and studied them.
"Shit! Are you okay?" she asked, pulling herself to her knees.
He batted her hand away.
"The sword!" he said. "You only had the sword because I left it for Potter to find."
I know. Ron told me.
"I'm sorry", he said. "It was a stupid idea."
"It's not your fault", she said, and placed her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. "We all did what we thought was best."
His face was void of all colour. Not just sallow, but deathly white.
"I should have known better. You could have died", he said. "No, I'm certain. She would have killed you. She wouldn't have thought twice about it."
"But I didn't."
"'But you..." his mouth twitched at its edges. "You see, if you'd told me that she'd cursed Potter, I'd be much less aggrieved."
He raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. It wasn't cruel, it was an acknowledgement of their history.
"He couldn't have handled it", she said playfully.
He smiled, but as his eyebrows furrowed, she knew that their moment in the light had been overcast by the shadow of whatever had crossed his mind.
"What did the Malfoys do?" he asked.
"Nothing! They left me alone with her!"
"Is that all?"
She quizzed him with her expression, "what do you mean?"
"Did they hurt you? Lucius... or Narcissa? She didn't...?"
Does it make a difference?
"No", she said. "That was all Bellatrix."
:
S.
If Bella's not dead, I'll fucking kill her, he thought.
Severus unclenched his fists as he began to think of creative ways he could commit the act.
Narcissa will get over it. She has no love for her sister. Unless... is she still alive? Is Lucius? Is Draco?
"He's dead."
Snape looked up.
Not Draco?
"Who is dead?"
"Voldemort, he's dead. Harry killed him. It's over."
No. It's not possible.
"From what I understand, Harry died or something, but apparently Dumbledore had figured out a way to keep him alive."
"It worked?"
Granger's eyes lit up.
"I knew it! It all makes sense! You knew. It was your plan; yours and Dumbledore's. Ron said that it was the memories you gave to Harry that gifted them the victory, and if you gave us the sword, then you knew! You were on our side all along."
"I suppose", he said stiffly. "What else did Weasley tell you of the memories?"
"Not much. I don't think he bothered to ask Harry about them."
He didn't spill all of my secrets then? Good. I won't have to write his name under Bella's on my list.
"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, as though it was paramount that she knew so that she could keep score.
He wouldn't put it past her to keep a record of the times she was correct.
There was probably little else to do, stuck in a forest with those fuckwits.
"Yes, y0u're correct. I'm glad that at least part of Albus' ridiculous plan worked out."
She narrowed her eyes.
"The shack? Was that another part of the plan?"
She's too smart for her own good. Tell her only what she needs to know. Tell her less than she needs to know. She'll bloody well figure it out anyway.
"Yes. Dumbledore knew The Dark Lord would kill me eventually. He knew he'd figure out that I was the master of the Elder Wand, and somehow he knew he'd use the snake to do it. Don't ask me how he knew it. What Dumbledore knew about The Dark Lord and how he knew it, has always been a mystery to me. The phoenix was supposed to heal me and take me somewhere only Dumbledore knew about."
"But the bird didn't come?"
"No. But you did."
She grinned.
"You're welcome for that, by the way."
Yes. I'm sorry. You're right. Hermione Granger - 1, Severus Snape - 0.
"Thank you," Snape said. "I should have said it sooner. Thank you for getting me out alive. And for bringing me here. You didn't have to do that."
Ask her.
Her eyebrows drew together as though he was speaking a foreign language but she nodded.
"Well... You're welcome."
Ask her!
"Granger, do you know what became of the Malfoys?"
"They deserted."
Narcissa. She would never? Unless... She had no reason to stay?
"They handed themselves into the ministry."
"They're alive?"
"Yes. Mr and Mrs Malfoy agreed to a short term in Azkaban, just a few years. I have no idea how they wrangled their way out of a life sentence..."
Lucius, you slippery bastard!
"And Draco?"
"Just a few months."
Severus held his hand to his chest and pressed tight, to still his beating heart.
Thank God.
"Right," he said, patting his thighs as he stood up. "I should go to bed."
"It's nine in the morning."
"I was up all night."
"Why?" she asked.
"You are not the only one who does not like to be alone with their memories."
:
H.
Hermione snapped closed the book that she was pretending to read and threw it onto the coffee table.
"I'm bored", she said.
"My father told me that only boring people get bored."
She pulled a face.
"He sounds delightful."
"Oh, he was", Snape said a sarcastic grimace.
"I'm serious. I'm bored. I've read all my books... twice. You're the one who wants to stay here even though we know it's safe out there."
Snape's face became serious.
"I told you, I don't have anywhere else to go. Believe me, I wouldn't trespass upon your hospitality if I had-"
She raised her hands.
"I was joking! It's fine."
Although, you could turn yourself in to the authorities.
"You can stay here as long as you need", she said. "But since I am here because of you, I'm going to need you to entertain me."
"Would you like the monkey to dance... or to sing?" he asked, closing his book onto his lap.
His mouth split into a grin and Hermione allowed herself to laugh with him.
Last night had been something of a turning point. They were getting along. With anyone else she might even imagine that they were forging a friendship from the fire. Hermione knew that according to some muggle scientists, there were infinite alternate universes, but it was fundamentally impossible that in even a single one, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were friends.
"I want to play cards", she said, pulling a deck from her bag.
"What games do you know?"
"Fish..."
Snape rolled his eyes, but without the contempt that usually accompanied the gesture.
"I'm not playing Fish. We're not children."
I'm glad you think so.
"Do you know how to play Shithead?"
"What did you just call me?"
Snape shook his head and let out a low chuckle.
"'Shithead' is the name of the game."
He pushed his hair behind his shoulder and took the deck of cards.
"Come on, I'll teach you."
:
S.
Severus was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed himself. He taught her the few games he knew, and wished that he could be at home with his library so he could pull out a book on the subject. He was bound to have one. But the thought of actually going home was too much for him. There was nothing of comfort in Spinners End. He had lived an unhappy childhood in that home, and continued to have a miserable adulthood in it too. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked being where he was.
Oh God, what does it say about me if I'm happier here with Granger than I would be in my own home?
Granger made dinner - a chicken pasta dish. He was used to the offerings of highly-skilled house elves, not hardly-capable teenagers. That said, it was edible, and it washed down nicely with a couple of glasses of white wine. He'd never liked the stuff, but Granger had insisted. He'd been pleasantly surprised.
After dinner, Granger came to him with another way to alleviate their boredom. He had not realised just how bored he was until she suggested it.
"Teach me occlumency", she said.
Oh this should be fun.
"Really? You won't like it."
She nodded, "I want to learn."
Excellent. I love taking a joyride into someone else's consciousness. You're on.
He shrugged.
"Alright then. Close your mind."
"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.
"Just focus on keeping me out. I will attempt to enter your thoughts. You will block me. Do you understand?"
She nodded again.
"You're ready?"
"Yes."
Oh no, you're not.
Snape entered her thoughts in an instant. If she was fighting him, he could hardly notice. He navigated around her pleasant memories with ease. A lot of them pertained to Weasley and Potter. Her affection for the redhead blossomed and he felt his stomach turn.
Ugh. Young love.
"You have to take control. You need discipline", he said.
He moved around and found memories of her parents. They were gentle, happy memories; the kind of memories that young Severus would have killed to make with his parents. As it was, his parents fought and argued, or went long stretches without speaking to each other. He acted as a messenger between them. And those were the kinder memories.
Do not dwell.
"Discipline your mind, Granger."
"I'm trying!"
Snape concentrated and came across a flash of sadness. Its bluish hue sullied the picture. She was in a party dress, crying at the bottom of a Hogwarts staircase. Her first broken heart.
Been there.
Then he caught sight of himself, brooding and foreboding. Young Granger stared up at him, pleased with herself, almost pink, having answered a question correctly.
The Snape in the memory stared at her as though she was shit on his boot.
'Tell me...', it said, '... are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?'
Jesus, Severus. What is the matter with you? She's a child!
The young Granger turned to Potter, red-faced with humiliation, as the Snape in the memory swung around with a billow of his cloak.
Pretentious! You look ridiculous.
'Ignore him, Hermione' Potter said in the memory. 'He's a prick.'
Little shit.
He has a point, said the voice like Lucius'.
"Sorry", Granger said and Snape drew out of her mind.
"Why are you sorry?" he asked.
"What Harry said..."
He threaded his fingers through his hair.
"Quite. However... his assessment was not entirely inaccurate."
Severus couldn't explain why seeing himself in such a way had bothered him so much. McGonagall had told him plenty of times that he needed to soften his approach with the children. She'd warned him that he was a bully. He'd laughed it off, gone back to his rooms and had a stiff drink. Whenever she would bring it up, and she did often, he'd roll his eyes and shrug her off. She didn't know what she was talking about. She hadn't a damn clue what he was dealing with or why he'd become Potions Master in the first place. But she'd been right.
She was always bloody right.
"Granger, I shouldn't have... I wasn't-"
She interrupted him with a dismissive wave.
"I don't like it when you call me 'Granger'" she said, and the change of subject caught him off guard.
"What would you prefer to be called?"
She shot him a look of incredulity, then laughed.
"By my name...?" she suggested.
"Right."
"You used it once before!"
"Did I?"
I did. It was weird, but not horrible.
"Fine", he said. "I'll call you by your name."
"Can I call you by yours?" she asked, her bright eyes sparkled.
Ha!
"No, you may not."
"Should I call you Professor then... or Sir?"
'Sir' sounds good, came a greedy voice from deep in the back of his mind, that seemed to have awoken as from a long sleep.
Oh good, he thought, you're back. Piss off.
"Just call me 'Snape'."
"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue", she muttered.
"What? And 'Severus' does?"
She grinned.
"It's not awful. No more stupid than Hermione. You can shorten yours, at least. What would I be... 'Herm'? I'm sure people call you 'Sev'."
"Don't!" he said, a little too sharply. "Don't call me 'Sev'. I ... I don't like it."
She looked at him as though she'd understood something and sat back on the chair.
"Okay", she said with a knowing smile.
She's going to be the fucking death of me.
Just then, an excited silver terrier burst into the room and threw itself onto Granger's lap. Weasley's voice spoke into the room.
"Come home, 'Mione", the voice said. "Leave that miserable prick alone and come back to me."
She grimaced at him apologetically.
So apparently 'prick' is the choice word to describe me. Excellent.
"I miss you", the voice continued. "Mum's worried sick and there's still so much to do. We've arranged the funeral for Thursday. Can you at least come back for that? Take care."
:
H.
"Funeral?" Snape asked.
"Fred".
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"I really should go", Hermione said, with a rueful smile.
She didn't want to leave him. It was so alien a thing, but she felt affection for him and she didn't like the thought of leaving him alone. As though he'd read her thoughts, and she was sure that he was able to do so, he nodded.
"I'm big enough and ugly enough to look after myself. You should go."
"Right", Hermione said. "You'll be okay? I'll leave you something to eat."
"I can cook, you know? I cook better than you, anyway."
She opened her mouth in mock outrage.
"Firstly... Rude! Secondly... You've let me cook all this time, and you're perfectly able to do it yourself?! You bastard! I thought I was keeping you alive... I thought I was helping you!"
"Firstly", he said with a smirk. It's been nice to have someone do everything for me. And secondly..."
He fidgeted with his sleeve.
"You have helped. You've helped in ways you can't even imagine."
What the hell does that mean?
"Go now", he said dismissively.
"The funeral isn't for another couple of days", she said.
"I know, but you should go be with them. I'll be fine."
"You're sure?"
He batted the air with his hand.
"Yes, I'm sure. Go on, piss off."
:
S.
God, it's going to be boring around here without her.
Granger stood up excitedly and bustled up the stairs. She returned in a change of clothing. He only noticed because she didn't look as pretty as she had before. She wore a worn, thin sweatshirt, and she'd put all of her hair into a bun at the side of her head.
She's dressing down for the occasion? Will women ever cease to dumbfound me?
He caught his thought; conscious of the fact that for the first time he had referred to her as a woman.
She grabbed her bag from the dining table, swung back towards him, and as he stood to see her off, and he went to shake her hand, she kissed him on the cheek and his hand brushed her stomach. It wasn't really a kiss - her lips came as just a graze on his skin - non-committal and unsure. But it was kind. The sort of touch he'd seldom felt before. It wasn't entirely friendly, but neither was it romantic, or sexual. It did not demand reciprocation. It just was.
And it was ...
He rolled his eyes as he finished the thought.
... Nice.