My first day of classes, after I have shrugged off stony bachelorhood in favor of stony husbandry, are the worst of it. An unfortunate first year has the bad luck to snicker too loudly at my dramatic entrance and ends up spending an hour of his young life as a caged canary on my desk. When he learns to sing a sweeter tune, I let him out. I know my students still whisper sarcastic comments when they know I have left the room, but not a one is careless enough to slip up in front of me again, lest they learn what the world looks like through the eyes of a rat or pigeon. When Albus hears of the "incident", he is not pleased, although I know Minerva had a good chuckle in spite of herself.
Hermione's day, I learn later, goes a bit more smoothly. Her charms classes slip by quickly and without occurrence. Why they have her teaching charms in the first place is beyond my comprehension. Her considerable talents should not be wasted on such trifles. But at least she's not languishing in divination.
I take lunch in the dungeon, and it comes as no surprise to me that I am not visited by my lady wife. She's off complaining about how wretched her living arrangements are, no doubt to anyone who will listen. At least everyone on the staff has the good sense to avoid me like the plague. Everyone that is except for Albus who catches me in the hall after fourth year potions.
"Severus!"
I briefly consider ignoring his exclamation, but instead halt with my back turned to the elder man.
"What?"
"I hear that Abraxas Smalley is still molting behind the ears."
"Serves the little bastard right. He's lucky I didn't feed him to Mrs. Norris."
"How are things at home?"
"Never better. It's all headaches and hippogriffs."
"How's the girl?"
"I wouldn't know. We don't talk much. We're too busy shagging."
If I bothered to look at him as I left, I'm certain he wouldn't be smiling.
When classes are finished, I retire to my dungeon to catalog my stores. Sitting idly around the flat does not appeal to me. There is work to be done to help the cause, and it can be done in a spacious dungeon or a cramped kitchen. Immersed in a dusty ancient tome, I don't hear her first knock.
"Severus?"
"Enter."
She moves across the floor and approaches my desk.
"Am I interrupting?"
Out of habit, I almost bark out a snide remark, but the truth is I am nearly finished.
"No. I was just preparing to find you. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes."
I gather up my things and rise. All of a sudden, Hermione approaches me. I squint at her and pull my head back, as she lifts up her hand. Gooseflesh springs to life along my arms as she gently runs her fingers through my hair. It feels like a low level electric shock running through my body. I'm thinking that she's gone quite mad, when she extricates her fingers and pulls something from the side of my head. A feather. Bright yellow. Hades in a hand basket, have I been walking around like that all day?
She twirls the feather between her fingers, smiling.
"Abraxas?"
I nod, feeling the pleasant tingle subside.
"He reminds me of Neville, poor boy. You'll give him a complex, Severus."
"He impugned your honor."
The lopsided smile she gives me rekindles the prick of the goose bumps. I shake my head to dissipate the odd effect.
"Oh, so you were just looking out for me?"
I give her a stiff bow.
"I protect and serve."
"Let's go home."
Funny, she's calling it home already.
Hermione needs some incidentals, and so we stop into town to do some shopping. Neither one of us feels much like cooking, or rather she doesn't feel like cooking, and I don't feel like burning the flat to the ground. Instead, I pick up some cheese, dry sausages, crusty bread, olives, and fruit. We share a surprisingly amiable picnic supper in the living room.
"More wine?"
"Thank you.
She holds out her glass to me, and my wand dispenses a thin stream of a musky red. She curls her legs beneath her on the couch and sips quietly. I top off my own glass before settling into the stiff-backed chair.
"That chair looks terribly uncomfortable."
"It's not so bad. After you've survived the Cruciatus."
Her eyes open wide in momentary alarm, and she quickly lowers them from mine to gaze into her wine glass.
"What's it like?"
No one has ever asked me before. Finding the right words is difficult.
"It feels as if you've been stripped of your skin, and had your raw nerves set afire. It's as if you've been racked until your joints threaten to rend from their sockets. I thought my heart would rupture, and my bones crumble to dust."
Her eyes are bright now, the lashes matted and wet. Her voice sounds strained.
"Ron. That's how they killed him. Did you know?"
I curse myself, and the wine for my stupidity. Sweet Merlin, sometimes I can be so obtuse.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She looks up at me, searching for sarcasm, but she finds none. I mean it, this time. I am genuinely sorry. She wipes her eyes self-consciously with the back of her hand, and sets down her wine glass.
"I think I've indulged in enough libation for one night."
"As have I."
The silence grows deafening. Damn my wagging tongue. After a few moments she rises to take her soiled plate, and mine, to the kitchen. My voice stops her.
"Ms. Granger…Hermione, there is a matter…what I mean to say is…"
Damn my clumsy wine-addled words. I'm as tongue-tied as a love struck school boy.
"I have been working on a project that possibly you might wish to collaborate on with me…"
She sets down the plates and returns to my side. Buoyed, I continue, and this time my words come more freely.
"I am currently seeking a potion to counteract the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Perhaps you might wish to lend me your considerable talents in this endeavor."
She looks like she's going to cry again, but there is a fierce determination behind her eyes.
"There is no counter-curse to the Crucio."
"Not that we know of. But there are so many elixirs that heal and protect. I can't help but think that with the right combination…"
A change comes over her. The sadness is still there, but I've engaged her Gryffindor loyalty and her inimitable lust for knowledge. Her passion is up, and it suits her.
"And even if it didn't render them totally impervious to Crucio, any resistance would give our wizards an edge."
"Even a small edge. It might just be enough to make a difference. Will you help me find it?"
"Yes, Severus. I will help you."
She holds out her hand to me, and I clasp it firmly. And so, we have an understanding. And so, I have an ally. Life plays such tricks on us.
I hold her hand a bit longer than necessary, and grasp it tighter as I rise.
"First, I will show you where I have already tried, and failed," I pull her gently to her feet.
"And then?"
"Then, we work."
Hermione's day, I learn later, goes a bit more smoothly. Her charms classes slip by quickly and without occurrence. Why they have her teaching charms in the first place is beyond my comprehension. Her considerable talents should not be wasted on such trifles. But at least she's not languishing in divination.
I take lunch in the dungeon, and it comes as no surprise to me that I am not visited by my lady wife. She's off complaining about how wretched her living arrangements are, no doubt to anyone who will listen. At least everyone on the staff has the good sense to avoid me like the plague. Everyone that is except for Albus who catches me in the hall after fourth year potions.
"Severus!"
I briefly consider ignoring his exclamation, but instead halt with my back turned to the elder man.
"What?"
"I hear that Abraxas Smalley is still molting behind the ears."
"Serves the little bastard right. He's lucky I didn't feed him to Mrs. Norris."
"How are things at home?"
"Never better. It's all headaches and hippogriffs."
"How's the girl?"
"I wouldn't know. We don't talk much. We're too busy shagging."
If I bothered to look at him as I left, I'm certain he wouldn't be smiling.
When classes are finished, I retire to my dungeon to catalog my stores. Sitting idly around the flat does not appeal to me. There is work to be done to help the cause, and it can be done in a spacious dungeon or a cramped kitchen. Immersed in a dusty ancient tome, I don't hear her first knock.
"Severus?"
"Enter."
She moves across the floor and approaches my desk.
"Am I interrupting?"
Out of habit, I almost bark out a snide remark, but the truth is I am nearly finished.
"No. I was just preparing to find you. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes."
I gather up my things and rise. All of a sudden, Hermione approaches me. I squint at her and pull my head back, as she lifts up her hand. Gooseflesh springs to life along my arms as she gently runs her fingers through my hair. It feels like a low level electric shock running through my body. I'm thinking that she's gone quite mad, when she extricates her fingers and pulls something from the side of my head. A feather. Bright yellow. Hades in a hand basket, have I been walking around like that all day?
She twirls the feather between her fingers, smiling.
"Abraxas?"
I nod, feeling the pleasant tingle subside.
"He reminds me of Neville, poor boy. You'll give him a complex, Severus."
"He impugned your honor."
The lopsided smile she gives me rekindles the prick of the goose bumps. I shake my head to dissipate the odd effect.
"Oh, so you were just looking out for me?"
I give her a stiff bow.
"I protect and serve."
"Let's go home."
Funny, she's calling it home already.
Hermione needs some incidentals, and so we stop into town to do some shopping. Neither one of us feels much like cooking, or rather she doesn't feel like cooking, and I don't feel like burning the flat to the ground. Instead, I pick up some cheese, dry sausages, crusty bread, olives, and fruit. We share a surprisingly amiable picnic supper in the living room.
"More wine?"
"Thank you.
She holds out her glass to me, and my wand dispenses a thin stream of a musky red. She curls her legs beneath her on the couch and sips quietly. I top off my own glass before settling into the stiff-backed chair.
"That chair looks terribly uncomfortable."
"It's not so bad. After you've survived the Cruciatus."
Her eyes open wide in momentary alarm, and she quickly lowers them from mine to gaze into her wine glass.
"What's it like?"
No one has ever asked me before. Finding the right words is difficult.
"It feels as if you've been stripped of your skin, and had your raw nerves set afire. It's as if you've been racked until your joints threaten to rend from their sockets. I thought my heart would rupture, and my bones crumble to dust."
Her eyes are bright now, the lashes matted and wet. Her voice sounds strained.
"Ron. That's how they killed him. Did you know?"
I curse myself, and the wine for my stupidity. Sweet Merlin, sometimes I can be so obtuse.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She looks up at me, searching for sarcasm, but she finds none. I mean it, this time. I am genuinely sorry. She wipes her eyes self-consciously with the back of her hand, and sets down her wine glass.
"I think I've indulged in enough libation for one night."
"As have I."
The silence grows deafening. Damn my wagging tongue. After a few moments she rises to take her soiled plate, and mine, to the kitchen. My voice stops her.
"Ms. Granger…Hermione, there is a matter…what I mean to say is…"
Damn my clumsy wine-addled words. I'm as tongue-tied as a love struck school boy.
"I have been working on a project that possibly you might wish to collaborate on with me…"
She sets down the plates and returns to my side. Buoyed, I continue, and this time my words come more freely.
"I am currently seeking a potion to counteract the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Perhaps you might wish to lend me your considerable talents in this endeavor."
She looks like she's going to cry again, but there is a fierce determination behind her eyes.
"There is no counter-curse to the Crucio."
"Not that we know of. But there are so many elixirs that heal and protect. I can't help but think that with the right combination…"
A change comes over her. The sadness is still there, but I've engaged her Gryffindor loyalty and her inimitable lust for knowledge. Her passion is up, and it suits her.
"And even if it didn't render them totally impervious to Crucio, any resistance would give our wizards an edge."
"Even a small edge. It might just be enough to make a difference. Will you help me find it?"
"Yes, Severus. I will help you."
She holds out her hand to me, and I clasp it firmly. And so, we have an understanding. And so, I have an ally. Life plays such tricks on us.
I hold her hand a bit longer than necessary, and grasp it tighter as I rise.
"First, I will show you where I have already tried, and failed," I pull her gently to her feet.
"And then?"
"Then, we work."