CHAPTER FOUR
A troll was knocking about in his brain again. Severus cracked open an eye and looked around to get his bearings. He was in an unfamiliar room in a musty, old bed. There was something on his face, and his head was literally killing him.
Severus sat up gingerly, and scooted back to lean against the headboard. He let out a growl and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. It didn't help; it just made blue spots take up his vision. He pulled the band from his head and realized he'd been bandaged. When had he hit his head? Had he been in a fight? Or worse? Had he been captured and locked in a room somewhere?
Where the hell was he? He still had all his clothes on, and his wand and personal effects were on the bedside table. He felt an immediate sense of calm once he closed his fingers around his wand. The war was over and he'd not made a lot of friends by the end of it. And there were still the occasional times he'd been spit on or yelled at. There was the woman last night damning him back to prison. But those other things weren't real acts of violence. Severus glared around the room as he stuffed his pockets with his things.
Why should someone kidnap him but leave him his wand? Was it an act of goodwill on their part? Or stupidity? Only his boots were missing, but were quickly located on the floor at the foot of the bed. Probably, he'd not been kidnapped then, Severus guessed. He felt rather foolish at the realization.
Severus stumbled forward and pulled on his boots. Perhaps he had been rescued. The last thing he could remember was dispparating. Perhaps he'd botched it? He had all his limbs and digits, but perhaps he'd splinched his head? He cast an ache away charm, but that served only to dull and banish the ache to the back of his head. Was it only the curse then? Was there nothing else wrong with him? Not to say blackouts weren't a bit inconvenient. Severus just wondered if there was worse luck in him than he already knew.
Was this the life he was doomed for? Horrible headaches and blackouts? Merlin, he might as well take up drinking again. Severus made for the door; the world tilted a bit on its axis before righting itself, and he stumbled.
Sticking his head into the hall, he almost put his face through a cup of tea, and surprise, realized where he was. Only one wizarding family had eyes so blue, and there was only one remaining living member of the clan.
"You're awake, I see."
He saw no point in confirming the obvious. Severus straightened, took the proffered tea, and sniffed it suspiciously.
"I found you passed out in my garden early this morning. Looked like you had a disappartion accident, but I couldn't find the splinch. There was a suspicious rock, however." The blue eyes twinkled behind the smudged spectacles. "I see that you removed your bandage. You should probably get a proper healer to look at that for you, if you don't want an infection."
"Duly noted."
"Ah, yes, never one to mince words."
Severus explored the knot on his head with a careful finger. "I was in your garden?"
"Out cold." Aberforth Dumbledore grimaced at him. "Nanny found you amongst the cabbages. Bleeding everywhere, of course. She licked your head. Probably stopped the bleeding, I should think." He peered over his glasses at Severus' face. "But I couldn't smell a drink on you, more's the pity."
Severus drank the tea in one go. A blasted goat had licked his head. And not just any goat…one of Aberforth's goats. Merlin. "Thanks." Pressing the teacup back into Aberforth's hand, Severus shrugged into his cloak.
"Don't want to talk about it, do you?"
Severus hesitated, halfway through shrugging into a sleeve. "Talk about what?"
"Talk about how sorry you are that you killed my brother."
Severus could feel whatever blood was in his head seep away. First his scalp went cold, then his forehead became clammy. The feeling spread downward until the chill settled in his chest. He felt a little faint. Overcoming the feeling, Severus straightened his cloak and stood up to his full height. He tried not to bluster, but he couldn't help it. Perhaps he could disapparate straight away, tear through whatever weak wards Aberforth kept and disappear. The mere thought of disapparating made his headache start afresh, but the very idea of discussing anything in his past with Aberforth Dumbledore was a worse discomfort.
Aberforth must have sensed Severus' desire to bolt. "You mentioned your apology seven or eight times when I brought you inside. Of course, you thought I was Albus in your stupor—"
Severus clamped down on his embarrassment with an iron will. "Thank you for hosting me, and not leaving me in the cabbages, Aberforth."
"And the bandaging."
Severus waited for Aberforth to move aside. "And the bandaging." He allowed.
"And the tea."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Aberforth had all of Albus' annoying qualities, and then some, to a fault. Namely, dragging out conversations for Aberforth's own pleasure, and usually to Severus' detriment.
"Mustn't forget the tea." Aberforth's smile showed through his unkempt beard.
"And the tea." Severus huffed. "Are you being obstinate on purpose, or do you intend to hold me against my will?"
"I was surprised that you hold yourself in such poor regard, Severus Snape. I do read the papers."
"Drivel."
"Truth can be sifted out of the drivel."
Severus' tone was biting. "Then you know I spent years in Azkaban for your brother's death. And other things."
"I do know that Azkaban can leave a mark on a man. One that can't be seen by the untrained eye. It's a very good thing they took those Dementors away. Inhumane, is what they are."
Severus had no opinion on the Dementors. He'd spent the better part of two years with them, before they'd been declared unlawful and the Minister of Magic had removed them about a month prior to the end of his tenement in Azkaban. He'd not had enough good cheer to sustain them much, and they'd eventually left him more or less alone. The Dementors had affected him, surely, but so had the solitary confinement, the starvation, and the cold. Honestly, it was a wonder that he was sane at all. Severus couldn't contain his glare. He just couldn't. "Well, thank you for that, Aberforth, but you must let me pass. I have things to do today."
"Just so you know. It's fixable, Severus."
Severus stilled. "What's fixable?"
"The blackouts."
"How are they fixable?" Poppy hadn't even known how to cure it.
"You've got to talk about it, as painful as it is. My dad had 'em when they let him out. He only lived for a year after but we talked and he got a bit better before he passed."
"That is encouraging." Severus' voice dripped with sarcasm.
There was no way Severus could talk about Albus, about any of it, with Aberforth or with anyone. He glared as hard as he could at the last Dumbledore. Only then did Aberforth step aside, and Severus made his way down toward the stairs.
"Ah, The old Severus Snape Modus Operandi." Aberforth's smile so clear it could be heard in his voice. Severus didn't even have to look at him. "Sarcasm and duck out, eh?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "…As I was told to get to a healer."
Aberforth was following him down the hall to the stairs. "My brother and I had several conversations about you, Snape, prior to his passing." Aberforth was only a few steps behind him, and Severus couldn't help but tense at the next words. "Notice I did not say when you murdered him."
"You might as well have now." Severus pointed out.
The older wizard snorted out a short laugh. "Eh. Maybe. Anyway, we had several conversations. And on those occasions he always said that he thought of you like a son."
Severus halted halfway down the stairs. He turned to look over his shoulder at Aberforth, still hovering at the top of the narrow staircase. Even in the dimly lit hallway, Aberforth's face bore no half-truths or lies in the lines of his face.
"He alluded to it, you mean." Severus corrected. Albus would never have said something so sentimental. Not about him.
"No, said it outright. Plain as the nose on your face. I know he wasn't always direct, that Albus. And he was always saying one thing and meaning another but—I could tell he meant it." Aberforth shot him a crooked smile. "So I guess that makes me the fun uncle."
Severus hesitated, and cleared his throat of the tightness with a cough. Aberforth had it all wrong, naturally, but it was still a nice thought. Thoughts didn't do much to comfort people with the amount of guilt he carried, but still. It was a nice thought. Almost a relief.
"Have a good morning, Aberforth." He disappeared into the Hog's Head, and didn't look back to meet the gaze of the last Dumbledore. As soon as he saw sunlight, Severus disapparated straight to the gates of Hogwarts, despite his aching head.
He'd always avoided the left sided path around the lake, and the marble grave that resided there. He looked away from the lake. Severus blinked quickly. His head hurt, and Aberforth's statement was starting to wind its way through his fuzzy mind.
A son.
What a bloody joke.
Severus hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with Albus, and had sometimes disliked the man greatly. They'd quarreled often and about everything. And Albus always had his way. Sometimes, Severus couldn't understand the man, or the way his mind worked. Sometimes, he understood all too well.
But on his walk back to the front door, Severus found his feet picking their own course without his knowledge.
Severus stared down at the white marble as it gleamed in the weak morning sun. The sun was just beginning to rise but hadn't quite made it over the treetops, so the white tomb seemed to glow from within. He hadn't seen Albus' grave before Azkaban. When he'd been Headmaster he'd avoided it altogether. Severus cleared the tightness from his throat. Staring down at the stone gave him little consolation, but what was deserved for him anyway?
Severus hooked his hands in his pockets as his interactions with Albus came to mind. The memories from their last year were the most difficult bitter pill to swallow down. How he'd pleaded and begged for a way out of his promise—Severus had no desire to actually commit the crime. Albus really had been more of a father than his own had. And the thought of ending the life of the only true father figure had nearly crippled him.
Severus' brow puckered. Albus had been so adamant and so sure that his death was the right course of action—and it had been. Severus had saved Draco and cemented himself into the Dark Lord's inner circle in one quick spell.
Severus pressed his lips together. Killing Albus Dumbledore had torn him apart. The very act had been a sacrifice of his soul, and Severus had done it willingly enough, and his soul had more or less recovered. It'd been the only way, hadn't it? That had been part of the plan—a foolhardy, dangerous plan. Although Severus didn't want to do it, he'd gone along with Albus Dumbledore, trusted Albus' wisdom, and acted his role superbly.
Killing Albus had hurt so much. Severus felt the familiar rush of shame wind through him, slither around his throat and tighten.
Albus had begged. Not like people said, that Albus Dumbledore had begged for his life and Severus had snuffed him out anyway. No, Albus had begged to be killed. And he'd given the old man exactly what he wanted. An act of mercy. He'd put the greatest wizard in an age out of his misery.
His mistake had been looking in Albus' mind when he cast the curse, searching for exoneration even as he did the deed. Like someone pinching out a candle, Albus' mind had gone blank.
Severus wished a thousand times to go back to that moment and undo what he'd done. He'd been responsible for so many deaths. But Albus' death had hit him the hardest.
Severus turned to look the Astronomy Tower fully. The rising sun had turned it golden orange. He could remember the heat of the curse, the dark, heady feeling of the magic as it raced through him and burst out of his hand and channeled down his wand. The hatred had been so strong, and so complete that the curse had blasted Albus Dumbledore off of the parapet.
The killing curse had always come easily to him. The anger and hate that bubbled beneath the surface of his conscience ensured that. Killing wasn't so difficult as people thought. Even killing Albus. In that moment, for the most miniscule seconds, Severus had felt relief course through him at being able to do as Albus wanted. He may not have wanted to do it, but being able to kill without hesitation and follow that fucking plan. Severus had just been glad it was over.
Watching Albus' body drop out of the sky, though, that had been another matter. As the consequences of Severus' curse dropped onto his shoulders, and he realized what he'd done, Severus had nearly fallen over from the weight of it. The shame had followed later. He hadn't had time in the heat of the skirmish to process his crime. He hadn't had the time to consider what he'd done.
Severus didn't feel the guilt from killing Albus Dumbledore. Albus himself had planned it. He'd merely gone along with Albus' whims as per usual. But Severus' greatest shame stemmed from how easily he'd managed it. There had been no hesitation. Nothing had caused him to pause. In that moment he'd been more machine than man. He had been the perfect device for Albus' plan. After years of honing his cruelty he'd turned it around on the man that had protected him and given him so much. How could he truly have cared for Albus Dumbledore if he'd ended his life so easily?
The press had tried to romanticize it for years afterwards. He'd never told a soul about what exactly had happened on the Astronomy Tower that night, and he had no idea how Rita Skeeter of all people had found it. She'd postulated on more than one occasion about how terrible it must have been to hear Albus Dumbledore beg for his life.
Severus never found out how she knew about the "Severus, please."
A sordid, gruesome detail that the public loved, they'd eaten it up when the Daily Prophet story had broken. Only those not associated with the crime could divine pleasure from hearing about the story.
Severus looked down at the grave again, the block of white marble. It wasn't a comfort to come here. There was nothing left of Albus that remained. It was just bones in a box.
Severus turned away and headed back toward the castle.
Some supposed son he'd been. Whatever Aberforth had thought he'd heard had been a lie. Severus had not made his real father proud, nor had he made Albus proud. He'd been just a utensil in the machinations of a genius.
It was still early yet, and he could easily sneak in without a student or teacher seeing him or the bump on his head.
Naturally, Severus had the worst luck in the world, because as he rounded the corner to take the back staircase, he nearly mowed over Hermione and Emma Granger.
He skidded to a stop, nearly coming toe to toe with Hermione, and was struck by how happy the pair of them looked together. With them together like that, it served to bring out the stark differences in their appearance. When he had thought Emma was a copy of Hermione Granger, he saw now that it wasn't true. Hermione and Emma had looped their arms together, their smiles frozen on their lips.
…Smiles that slid from their faces as he stared at them.
Hermione dropped her daughter's arm and brought her hand toward his head. Sensing the impending pain, Severus stepped backwards and out of reach. He gasped preemptively, the sound of it echoed in the silent hallway. Hermione's hand remained aloft, floating between them as she stared at him. He couldn't help staring back.
"Are you all right?" The concern in her voice mangled his nerves. He was certainly not 'all right'. He was raw and broken and his head bloody ached almost as bad has the lump of heart he still had left in his chest. But her brown eyes were so wide and caring he hesitated to snap at her. And gods, he was so tired.
"How did you hurt your head, Professor?" The Granger girl's voice drew him and Hermione out of whatever moment they'd fallen prey to.
Severus dropped his gaze toward the girl. It was entirely too difficult to answer her. He didn't know exactly, but he certainly wasn't bringing up the goat.
"Was this your appointment, last night? I should think you'd have had a better time speaking with me." The quirk of Hermione's lip made Severus equal parts amused and annoyed. It was possible the outcome would have been the same if he'd relented and spoken with Hermione like she wanted: a splitting headache.
Her gaze found someone behind Severus, and he couldn't help but tense that someone was behind him.
"Oh hello, Harold. Is it time already?" Hermione greeted the man who looked as if he'd been cut from marble. Severus' irritation spiked to a new level, although he couldn't point a finger as to why. Harold hadn't done anything, but exist. Severus did rather hate that he existed at all. Or that he stood so close to Madam Granger—the familiarity between the two annoyed him. He settled with his back set to the wall and glared at the newcomer.
"You said meet at eight, didn't you?" Harold asked. "Ready for Round Two with the Centaurs?"
"Is it that time already? We haven't even made it to breakfast yet."
Harold grinned, and Severus immediately loathed the man. No one that pretty should be that nice. "Well, why don't we all go together?" Harold came full even with Severus and whistled when he saw his face. "Wow, Professor. That's a real mouse you've got there!"
Severus was unfamiliar with the term and chose to scowl instead of ask for clarification.
"He's talking about your black eye, Professor Snape." Emma was ever helpful, just like her mother. Severus grimaced at her.
"I shall take my leave." Severus swept around the group in a huff and headed for the stairs toward his chambers. Screw them and their family-oriented breakfast.
"Madam Pomfrey should really look at that cut, though, Snape!"
Severus couldn't even acknowledge Hermione Granger. It was the start of the day still and he was more than ready for it to be over and done.
Once Severus got into his washroom and saw his reflection he realized what all of the hullabaloo was about. For the first time ever Hermione Granger had understated things.
The entire right side of his face was a mess of a bruise, along with cuts and scratches across each angle. The cut that everyone had referred to was really a large gash above his eyebrow. No wonder Aberforth had recommended a healer. How had he gotten it? Had he apparated into a patch of thin air and fallen? Above Aberforth's garden?
Severus sighed. God. He didn't want to touch it. But he was going to need to get it clean so he could get a look at it.
Several painstaking minutes later, after many winces, grimaces, hisses and groans, Severus had gotten the laceration cleaned and bandaged. He'd put some of the skin knitting cream on it and needed nothing more than patience. And a hideout. He wasn't going down to meals like this. The bandage alone would garner too much attention from the students and the other professors alike. And that was what he needed was everyone staring and Minerva scowling at him over the pumpkin juice to set a better example. No, it was better to convalesce in silence and hermitage where he deserved to be. He downed several potions back to back, for the aches and pains, the nausea that accompanied said pain potion, and a mild sedative because the nausea potion made him dizzy.
He felt wretched still. The guilt returned in force. Not because of some random old witch last night, pointing out to all and sundry that he'd murdered the Great Albus Dumbledore, but for the little family he had left in the corridor. Hermione, Emma, and Harold.
Harold. What a name. What a person. Hopefully he had a small cock.
Severus growled at himself. What did he think? That he was supposed to be going to Saturday breakfast with the Grangers? Did he deserve that? Hardly. Did he want that? Of course not. He wasn't a family man.
Severus could just imagine it: sitting across from them, arranged in a happy little circle, all of them smiling and laughing over tea and kippers. It was ridiculous. No one even made kippers anymore.
The image he'd created stayed with him though. Hermione, Emma, and him all together and happy with Harold nowhere to be found. Severus snorted. It was a ridiculous thought. Even in the privacy of his own mind he knew it was ludicrous.
He curled in on himself in his armchair. He was uncomfortable and annoyed and tired. First Adriana and Rolanda, then the witch last night, then Aberforth sodding Dumbledore, and the headaches to end all headaches, and then Hermione and Harold canoodling over breakfast with his daughter! It had not been a good day.
Merlin. He needed a nap. Or a drink. Severus glanced at the shelf where he kept his liquor. It was woefully far away, and he was woefully sleepy, and perhaps he'd just close his eyes for a moment before getting up.
Minerva moved through the castle quietly. Even pushing ninety-five years young, Minerva McGonagall remained spry. She wasn't sure if it was the animagus ability, or the fact that she had more lives as a cat to spread around all those aches and pains, but she was proud that she didn't creak in the knees and she hadn't become a doddering old fool.
But while she had an excess of natural, feline grace, what she did not have was a plethora of patience. In fact, she'd had it up to you-know-where with Severus' antics this past month. Certainly he deserved some grace after such a strange diagnosis, but his lack of willingness to see to it drove her mad. She'd spoken with Vivian Creedmoor and learned that Severus had not even contacted her. More's the pity. Was she to make him do everything? How could he not want to do anything in his power to protect his magic from diminishing?
And now, he hadn't even bothered to show up to meals for two days? One of the things that they'd agreed on was how he would be present for meals, how he would participate in school activities. In short, Severus Snape was going to be kept where she could see him. No more of this nonsense of wasting away in guilt-ridden stupors.
If she had a knut for every time she'd tried to get Severus out of his old, dirty house through the years she'd be a very rich woman. He might not have very many friends left in the world, not with the way he treated people, but he couldn't chase her away. Not with how stubborn she was. She had the lion share of stubbornness between the two of them, after all. Their relationship had rocked the boat on more than a few occasions between her competitiveness and his righteous indignation, but they had always weathered the storms and remained friends. Even during the worst parts of the worst years they'd managed to strike an alliance against the Carrows. It had never been broadcasted or spoken about, but they'd managed to have the same goal. Keep the students safe—and alive.
And then after the mess with the snake, and him going to Azkaban—they'd fallen out of touch, and who wouldn't? She'd seen him when he first got out—he'd been a madman. She'd tried to get back in touch but all her owls had been sent away unanswered. He'd let the friendship die. He'd not seen that it was worth saving.
And maybe she'd let him write the narrative. She'd believed him when he didn't answer. Perhaps she should have tried harder to make him come out of his hole of a house. But she hadn't, and he didn't. She felt a little badly for that.
But never mind, she'd gotten him back from the brink. He had withered to a shell of a man when he stepped out of her floo into her office only five weeks ago. He'd succumbed to drinking the way his father had. Severus probably didn't remember that she had been the one to speak to his family about Hogwarts when he was a boy. She still remembered that house call quite vividly. And very little of it had made for a good visit.
But like a cat watching the mouse at the trap, he had come to her, thinking he had all the power. He'd come to Hogwarts with her offer in hand, and she had of course agreed to his tiny changes in his contracts. When she would have agreed to nearly anything to get him back into the wizarding world!
And he'd agreed to it! He'd signed the contract, not given a single complaint to showing up for meetings, meals and everything in between. That meeting had gone rather badly, she just hadn't expected him to show up at her office like that. It was a miracle he'd even been able to floo into the office, unless Hogwarts still recognized him as a Headmaster? She hesitated on the stairs. She ought to look into that. She wasn't about to let him come into her office as he pleased, after all. She continued forward.
She had made sure that the House elves always kept his plates extra full at meals and he already looked a little fuller, a little less wasted away. She'd almost jinxed his liquor, but she was certain that was crossing a line. Although, if he'd gone on a bender during the school year, then Merlin help her, she'd throw him into rehab herself.
Minerva had reached his door. He had better not be drunk on the other side. She rapped her knuckles smartly on the door and waited what she considered to be an appropriate amount of time. She knocked again.
Fed up with the lack of answer, Minerva began dismantling the wards.
What she found once she finally got through his door was a very much alive Severus Snape curled up in an armchair, snoring softly into his elbow. The exposed side of his face bandaged and bruised. What had he done, fallen out of a tree?
"Severus Snape!"
The man before her blearily opened his eyes, raised his head and looked at her.
"What time is it?" His mumble was rough, scratchy, and looked as if he'd been asleep since Friday.
"Have you been here in that chair this whole time?"
Severus squeezed his eyes shut. "Has it been long then?"
"No one's seen you since Friday afternoon."
Severus squinted up at her. "I take it that it is not Saturday morning right now, or you wouldn't have barged in here and cut through my wards. Why have you bellowed at me?"
"I have not bellowed!"
"Screeched, then." He tried opening his good eye fully, but squeezed it shut again immediately. "Why are you here?"
"Because no one has seen you alive, Severus. No one has seen you since Friday after classes. It's Sunday!"
"And yet, the good Lord has kept me alive for another day it seems."
"What happened to taking meals in the Great Hall?"
He scrabbled a hand over his face, winced nearly immediately at touching his wound and carefully unfolded from his curlicue position. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he peeled off his bandage and wrinkled his nose at the sight. Minerva scowled. Men. Always trying to be brave or stubborn. Predictable really.
When he headed for the washroom, Minerva called after him. She couldn't deny that she was being shrill. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To the loo, Minerva. You're not going to follow me in there, are you?"
"Certainly not."
"Don't let me detain you, Minerva, I'll be down for tea or lunch or whatever is the next meal." He glared at her as if it were her fault he'd slept late. "You've not been clear about the actual time."
"You're headed to the Hospital Wing, Severus." She took a step closer toward him, concern and worry etched into every wrinkle on her face. "Have you had another episode?"
Severus rolled his eyes in a way that made him look paradoxically young for his age. Like, adolescently young. She was not his mum. She was not going to treat him like the petulant boy he was being.
"I am taking care of it." He hissed. He stepped into the washroom and closed the door with more force than was strictly necessary.
"Codswallop." Minerva knew Severus well enough to see he was lying. So help her, she was hauling him to the hospital wing whether he liked it or not.
After several minutes, Severus was dragged by an elbow under loud protest, and shoved through the floo to the hospital wing.
Severus hated being mothered. He had a ruthless independence and a need to survive only under his own power—but now he'd just gained two mothers. Minerva rubbed her hands together. Severus was going to receive some tender loving care if it killed them both.
Severus hated the world. He hated everything about the Hospital Wing. It was horrible to sit on a bed while Poppy Pomfrey mumbled over him, scolding him as if he were a child in one unending stream of mutterings under her breath. The longer she murmured the more flustered he felt. She moved on to the abrasions scattered up and down his face, healing with charms as she went.
He hated healing hands in general, but especially more so since the Battle for Hogwarts. Spending four months in St. Mungo's, drugged out of his mind and recuperating from a violent attack would do that to a person. Whatever blood replenishers they'd given him had given him violent hallucinations, and he'd had to be sedated on more than one occasion. He'd rather not ever go through that again. So now, he was willing to grin and bear it, but he'd not stay another night in any hospital wing ever again. Poppy Pomfrey and all her kindness be damned.
Even still, his unease with hospitals and healers had come before St. Mungo's. Even when he was a child, and the nurses had leaned over the strange bruises or the oddly broken bone, he'd been afraid. When he was young he thought he'd be taken away from his mum. And now as an adult, he'd be afraid of being chained up again. Severus held in a sigh. He could be fine if Poppy's exam was only for a few moments more.
Staring forward, over Poppy's shoulder, he didn't notice her fingers until her hand brushed over his collar and touched the skin of his scar at his neck.
Like a bottle rocket, the touch ignited him from his seat. Leaping forward, Severus was standing a body length away from her in a second. Immediately, he was embarrassed, having the reactions of a feral animal. It hadn't even hurt so much as just startled him.
He stared at them as Poppy and Minerva exchanged a glance.
"My apologies Severus. I didn't mean to touch—"
"It is of no consequence." Severus perched carefully back in his seat and Poppy finished quickly and placed her hands on her hips. "You've not listened to me at all, I see, Severus." She paused, as if waiting for him to defend himself. He said nothing. "Didn't I say that you shouldn't use occlumency? And now you've had an accident because of this. How far are you going to let this go before you're going to do something about it?"
Severus stared at her. He wanted to shout. It was unfair that he had yet another thing to deal with. It was yet another thing to shackle him to unhappiness and strain. And why couldn't she let him just deal with it on his own? He'd figure his way out of this mess. He always had before without her telling him how to do it.
"You're doing a poor job, Severus. You've got to do better at managing your stress. I know that there has been trauma in your past but if you want a future at all in the wizarding world you've got to start taking care of it. Now."
He wished Minerva hadn't stayed for the lecture. He wouldn't put it past her to try to micromanage him.
"You've got to try speaking with Madam Creedmoor, Severus. Just a quick chat. Who knows? You might take some comfort in it."
Bloody unlikely. How could these two women think he'd want to speak with that mirror of a woman? That it would change anything?
He stood up again, carefully moving around Poppy so as to not startle her. Half expecting her to make him rest, he left the Hospital Wing without a word. Minerva followed behind him. Why was she still following him? She'd born witness to his overreaction, couldn't she leave him be?
"Are you afraid I won't show up to dinner, Minerva?"
She didn't answer. "Is that regrown skin still that sensitive after all this time?"
Severus frowned. "It's none of your business, is it?"
"It's not. You don't have to answer, of course." The calmness that she answered his retort revealed everything. She was treading on eggshells around him. Afraid to set him off? Much like his mother around his father. Severus took a cleansing breath. He wasn't his father, now was he? No, he was a different man.
Sighing, a long deflated sound, Severus nodded. It wouldn't hurt to tell her. "It's not that it hurts. It's just sensitive when I'm not expecting it."
Minerva made a sound in her throat and nodded. "Come on, aren't you starving? I'm starving."
"I don't need a sitter."
"How about a friend?"
Severus said nothing, but allowed Minerva to walk with him to the Great Hall for dinner.
Hermione Granger and Harold were at dinner that night, seated far down the table where he couldn't hear either of them. Thank Merlin for small mercies. Hooch, unfortunately was his table partner and regaled him and Adriana, on her other side, with old quidditch stories—ones in which she was portrayed favorably for her athleticism. Poor Hooch. Her pursuit of the younger woman was blatant to the extreme. Could Rolanda Hooch even spell 'subtle'?
Severus tucked in, eating a little too fast and making his stomach hurt. He nursed a coffee as he waited for dinner to finish. It wasn't surprising in the least that he saw Hermione Granger rise just after dessert and approach their side of the table. She had said that she wanted to speak with him, and Hermione Granger was nothing if not relentless.
"Professor Snape. I'm glad your face looks better." Hermione greeted him as soon as she was standing on the other side of the table. Because the table was raised, they were more or less at the same eye level. She rested one of her hands on the tabletop. Severus shifted uncomfortably and ignored it. "I'm leaving tonight, but I would still like a private word with you about Emma."
Severus shrugged. His coffee was going to take a long time at the rate he was sipping it. He was positive that he could draw it out another forty-five minutes if he needed to do so to avoid her. An owl flew in threw the open window.
"Hermione Granger!" Hooch leaned forward and patted Hermione's hand. "You've not met Adriana Marquette yet, this is our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and Head of Slytherin. Does a pretty bang up job."
Hermione smiled at them, shook Adriana's hand. "My daughter seems to like your class an awful lot, Professor Marquette."
"She's a very good student, Madam Granger. It is an honor to teach her." Adriana seemed to be melting at meeting one of her heroes. Severus hoped she held it together for his sake.
Hooch elbowed Adriana. "Oh, call her Hermione, Adriana. Nothing needs to be so formal."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at Rolanda Hooch, but nodded at the last moment. "It is a pleasure to meet you, of course." She turned back to the task at hand, namely, back to Severus and looked expectant.
Severus realized that he'd been interrupted from answering and was about to let a barb fly when Rolanda pounced.
"Oh, he's not busy at all. Never is, the old sot. Of course Severus can talk to you about Emma." Hooch leaned forward on an elbow. "You know I haven't had her in a flying class yet, you think she'll manage to get up in the air, Granger?"
Hermione appeared good-natured about the jibe, but there was a sudden glint in her eyes. "Perhaps. She was introduced to flying much earlier than I was. And of course Harry and Ron inspired her."
Hooch clapped her hands together in glee. "Oh! I can't wait then!"
"So, you'll meet me then, Professor Snape?" Hermione was not going to be deterred. Her browns eyes were tilted up at him and Severus suddenly found he couldn't refuse her. He should have shredded her with his words. Minced her to the point she'd be afraid to speak with him at all. What was the matter with him?
"Very well." Severus drew out his weary sigh. "Where shall I meet you?"
It was then that Harold interrupted them. Of course, it was Harold. Severus really was coming to loathe the guy and all of his earnestness. He clutched an envelope in his hand. "There's been an incident down in Surrey!"
Hermione and Harold exchanged a tense look.
"How long have we got?"
"Ten minutes. Maybe?"
Hermione turned back to Severus. "I am sorry. Please expect my owl instead, Professor Snape." She hesitated, as if suddenly remembering something. "If you do come across that mermish translation potion, I'd be very much obliged to take a look at it." And then she and Harold hurried from the Great Hall, Hermione only pausing long enough for a quick goodbye to her daughter.
"Wow, that looked important, didn't it Severus?" Hooch crossed her arms over herself and leaned back in her seat. Adriana came into full view, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "I thought you said she worked in interspecies relations?"
Severus stirred his coffee. He frowned at the doors.
Adriana asked. "What do you think Granger wanted to speak with you about?"
Severus shrugged and wondered where his relief was? Shouldn't he be glad to have dodged that particular conversation with Hermione Granger? He should appreciate that she'd been called away and he'd avoided it altogether.
He didn't feel anything of the sort. In fact, Severus wondered why he felt so disappointed.
It couldn't be because he wanted to know.
Or that he wanted the news to be true.
He didn't actually want to be the father to Emma Granger, did he?
That would be absurd.
Abandoning his coffee, Severus stood up.
"Where are you going?" Rolanda asked. Severus ignored her and swept out of the hall. It really was only a matter of time before someone figured it out, wasn't it? Perhaps if no one ever knew it would never become an issue for him. And if anyone did find out, perhaps it would be after he was done with the place, and he could disappear from the public eye for good.
Severus wondered what it would be like if the public found out that he'd had any offspring. The Daily Prophet, namely Rita Skeeter, had always been wishy-washy about him after the war coverage. When he'd been headmaster, the papers had pronounced love for his You-Know-Who sanctioned school reforms. And once he'd been sacked and the Battle for Hogwarts had been won, he'd been drawn and quartered in the press. His stint in St. Mungo's Hospital, and the subsequent revelation that he'd loved Potter's mum had only served to make him a more pitiful creature. The public had loved him.
When it came out he'd be in Azkaban for the foreseeable future he'd be dragged through the dirt again. His acquittal, thanks to Harry Potter's testimony and the work of Brandt et. Law had been only vaguely covered in the press, and he'd been able to slip into the history books in only passing infamy.
Perhaps the knowledge that he'd had the poor sense to reproduce wouldn't be of much news to anyone? The likes of his hooking his wagon up to Granger could potentially go unnoticed to the rest of the Wizarding world, couldn't it? Severus nearly laughed at himself. It's not so much that he really cared what they all thought of him, it's just that he'd never been so lucky in all his life. The more likely scenario would be a full, front page spread towing Granger's and his name through the muck and leaving poor Granger Girl with next to no prospects or opportunities. There was nothing an association with him that could add value to Emma Granger's future.
