A/N: This is the unedited version of this. The chapter is currently with my most wonderful Beta, DelilahKelley, and I'll repost again once some revisions have been made.
Also, I've changed their daughter's name from Aithne to Aislinn. As the author, if I was having trouble pronouncing it, then I'm sure many of you were as well. So… name changed.
Faith of the Fallen
Chapter 9: In the Winter of My Sorrow
Gray storm clouds rolled and tumbled across the sky, threatening to release their contents on the two figures that walked slowly down the gravel path leading from the castle. Hermione clasped Severus' gloved hand tightly in her own, while the other clutched at the wool scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. The end of Severus' own scarf fluttered about in the cold, biting breeze of the early October morning, accompanied by the occasional billow of fabric as the wind caught the edges of their cloaks. The rain from the night before had mixed with the cold, leaving a layer of thin, crystalline frost across the grounds, the first sign of the coming winter. They walked slowly towards the gates at the edge of the grounds, neither speaking, each lost in their own thoughts.
The previous night had been a massive – if somewhat unexpected - step towards rebuilding what they once had. It had been Severus who had asked Hermione to stay, but after their earlier close call she was extremely reluctant. He had assured her his intentions were nothing but honorable, and she had finally assented. He had led her to his bed and they had lain curled in each others arms as the fire slowly died in the hearth. They spoke of the past - of mistakes and regrets - as well as happy times and previous dreams of the future. They had shed more tears, but they had also laughed. It had been bittersweet.
It was during one of those lighter moments that Severus had asked Hermione a question he had not expected to ask, and she certainly had not expected to hear: "Would you visit her with me?"
The smile had faded from Hermione's face like wax under a flame. "What?" she whispered.
He spoke softly, slowly, not wanting to frighten her away. "Aislinn - would you visit her with me?"
Hermione let out a nervous, breathy laugh. "Severus, I don't know if I can…"
"You can," he said confidently, cupping her cheek in his hand. "You need to." He dropped his hand from her face and lay back against the pillows, staring at the dark canopy overhead. "God knows I do as well."
Hermione sat up and drew her knees up to her chin. There were a few moments of silence as she stared of into the night. Finally she asked: "You mean you've never…"
He shook his head. "No."
She turned her head to look at him, resting her cheek on her knees. "Why?" she asked softly.
He laughed bitterly and ran a hand over his face, rubbing the darkening stubble on his cheeks.
A myriad of emotions played across his angular face: anger, regret, sadness, fear… shame. It was slightly disconcerting after so many months of cold indifference. "Cowardice, I suppose," he said finally.
She nodded, although she would never have called him a coward. She picked at an errant thread on her nightshirt. "I suppose my reasons are the same – cowardice. I feel that if I don't acknowledge it then it didn't happen, you know?"
He nodded his agreement. "Yes… but I also know – and I know you do as well - that if we don't allow ourselves to… grieve… that it will only be worse in the end. A year is a very long time to hold this kind of thing inside, Hermione. It has already manifested itself in my actions – my cruelty and anger - towards you. It has shown itself in you as well. Do not think that just because you no longer share my bed that I do not realize how angry you are all the time, or that you have trouble sleeping. But I suppose that is my fault."
Hermione blushed, surprised at his insightfulness, but not denying that he was the reason behind her nightmares and the terrible anger that was an almost constant companion. "It's been so long, Severus, and yet it hasn't. Since you pushed me out of your life on New Year's, since you denied me the last touchstone that I had in my life, I've been so angry all the time. I'm angry at you, I'm angry at myself, I'm angry at the whole fucking world, Severus. I'm not ignorant of the way things work – I know that bad things happen to good people all the time, but this is almost too much. When I walk through Hogsmeade or London, and I see all the smiling mothers with their prams and their babies… I hate them for it. I hate them for having what I was denied… what we were denied! I don't know if I can ever truly be happy again."
He turned towards her and reached out to run a long finger along the dip behind her ankle bone. She closed her eyes at the sublime feeling of his skin caressing hers. It had been so long…
"I do understand, Hermione," he said softly. "I have been angry as well this past year - at you, at myself, at those who took her from us… at everything. I too, cannot withhold the hatred I feel for those happy families, the fathers I see holding their children and kissing their wives without fear of retribution. I would give my life only to have a fraction of that happiness."
She nodded again and there was silence for a while as they each contemplated what the other had said. It was obvious to Hermione that Severus regretted the decision of pushing her out of his life. It was obvious to Severus that Hermione desperately wanted – needed - to be a part of his life. They needed each other… but the rift between them was so deep and dark, filled with so much loss and bitterness that neither knew if it was possible to cross, let alone repair completely.
"Do you think we're strong enough?" Hermione asked just as Severus had started to drift into a light sleep.
There was a pause before he answered. "No..."
Her brow drew together in fear and confusion, and she felt the bed dip as he shifted. She opened her mouth to question him, but before she could speak his large, warm hand curled around hers.
"…but we will be," he finished.
She turned her face to his, and the conviction she saw there steeled something within her soul. She squeezed his hand tightly in agreement.
He gave her a tight smile. "Come," he said, "it's getting late - rest now." He slid back beneath the covers and she followed, turning the press her back to his chest. She could feel his heart beating strongly against her skin, and it was that steady rhythm, mixed with the warmth of his encircling arms, that lulled her into sleep. For the first time in months, Hermione slept… and did not dream.
So it was that they were now walking hand in hand towards the Apparition point just outside the school grounds. They were both nervous, although neither would admit it. The cold, iron gates parted as they neared, sensing their presence.
They stopped just outside the grounds, and Severus looked absently over his shoulder at the distant castle. He turned back to Hermione. "Are you ready?"
Hermione took a deep, trembling breath before nodding. She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his trim waist. He wrapped his long arms around her and with a single, sharp 'crack,' they were gone, leaving behind only a small swirl of fallen leaves.
They appeared next to another iron gate, this one covered in frost-bitten ivy. They held each other for a moment longer, drawing strength for the walk ahead. After a moment, he gave her a final squeeze. "Come," he said, keeping one arm protectively around her shoulders. There was only a slight hesitation to her steps as he led the way up the dirt path, lined on either side by ancient oak trees, their branches bare and skeletal in the cold, gray, winter morning.
The cemetery was small compared to many cemeteries in Great Britain. It was composed entirely of wizarding families, although many of the muggle members of the families were buried alongside their magical relatives. Beneath the bare, outstretched branches of the ancient trees, mausoleums adorned with ornate scrollwork, ancient runes, and weeping, marble angels stood alongside small, simple headstones, some of which held only a name and a date. There was no rhyme or reason to the layout, except for the small iron fences that enclosed each individual family plot: poor wizards lay alongside rich; pureblood with half-blood; magical with muggle. It made Hermione smile sadly – Only in death are we truly equals, she thought.
After walking in silence for a while, they finally turned off the main path and walked down a small, well-worn side lane. Near the end of the lane was a small plot encircled by a waist-high iron fence. There were five headstones – four well-tended and one not – four large and one small. Hermione's breath hitched as Severus released her to push open the gate. The metal hinges squealed as it swung inward, and the sound rang out like a gunshot in the silence of the morning.
Hermione flinched, but recovered quickly. She steeled herself, gathering all the courage of her House, and stepped over the threshold. Severus followed silently, allowing her to walk ahead – she needed to do this herself.
Hermione slowly approached the smallest plot, nestled next to one of the larger, well-tended ones. She stood at a distance, simply looking down at the small marker for the span of several heartbeats.
Hermione had miscarried at 12 weeks – the funeral was merely a ceremony to give her and Severus some closure. All that was buried beneath the cold ground was a small collection of items: letters to their daughter - one from Severus, one from Hermione; a small, tatty pink blanket that had been Hermione's when she was a child; and a ragged, brown, patchwork teddy – a gift from his mother to a two-year-old Severus. It was the only remnant of his childhood that meant anything to him, so he had laid it to rest with the memory of his own child.
When he heard the first ragged sob, Severus' heart clenched in his chest at the sound of Hermione's sorrow. Slowly, she walked forward, and he moved to stand behind her as she knelt in the brown grass next to the ivory headstone. His black cloak whipped about his ankles, and his dark hair stung his cheeks as a biting gust of wind swept through the cemetery. Hermione's hair also flew wildly around her face, and the tip of her scarf snapped viciously in the onslaught of icy wind, but she didn't notice - she was speaking:
"Hello sweet. It's your mother." Her head bowed and Severus saw her wipe tears from her cheeks. "Your father's here as well." He placed a hand on her shoulder, which she clutched gratefully. "We miss you, dear heart. You would have been three months old if you were here."
A broken sob as she continued: "I'm so sorry I haven't come before… it's been… it's just that…" Hermione sighed and shook her head free of excuses. "No… the truth is… your Gryffindor mother is nothing but a heartless coward…" She released Severus' hand and covered her face. Great, gasping sobs racked her body.
Severus knelt beside her in the grass and pulled her close. As she clutched at the front of his cloak, he found himself staring at the white marble of his daughter's headstone - at the small letters that composed her name, the simple epithet inscribed beneath, and the runes carved along the bottom of the stone:
Aislinn Eileen Snape
October 20th, 2000
"May the love hidden deep inside your heart
find the love waiting in your dreams."
Severus had to grit his teeth to keep the tears from falling. One managed to escape and rolled hot and fast down the icy skin of his cheek. He finally spoke, though his words were soft whispers against the rising wind. "I have been a fool, sweet one. Perhaps it is because I never saw your face, never held you or touched you. Perhaps that is why I have let myself push you away… let my heart seal itself against you..." Hermione gave another shuddering sob against his chest. Severus looked away from the headstone and pressed his face to the top of her head, closing his eyes against the pain in his chest.
"… and against your mother," he continued. "Forgive me, Aislinn. Forgive the selfish attempts of a bitter old man to save what remains of his black heart."
Hermione rose up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on with all her might as she cried. Severus buried his face in her neck as well, holding her in a vice-grip as the tears finally escaped him, rolling silently down his face. They stayed that way for a while, two dark figures kneeling under a steel-grey winter sky, before a tiny, white headstone in the gray solitude of a small, forgotten cemetery. When at last there were no more tears to cry, Severus stood slowly and helped Hermione to her feet. He took her red, tear-stained face between his hands and leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.
"Kiss me," she whispered shakily from behind closed lids.
There were no questions, excuses, or protests against the small intimacy as Severus pressed his lips gently to her own. There were so many things conveyed by that simple touch of flesh. It was a silent promise, a reminder of what they once had, and a beacon of hope for the future. She took his face in her hands and deepened the kiss, pouring her love for him into the movement of her skin against his. Finally, they broke the kiss and stood with foreheads pressed together once more.
After a moment, Severus stepped back and reached inside his cloak. He pulled out a small bouquet of flowers: white carnations. Hermione smiled sadly. When she was pregnant, she could never get enough of the smell of a carnation. He pulled one flower out of the bunch before laying the rest of the bundle snugly against his daughter's headstone. With the other in hand, he stepped to the left and stood for a moment in front of one of the larger plots.
Hermione watched as Severus knelt in front of the grave and placed the single, white carnation upon the headstone.
"Hello, Mum," he began softly. He stared down at his hands for so long that Hermione almost called his name. Finally he spoke, but his words were so soft that she had to step closer to hear. "I just wanted to thank you… for watching over her." His gaze slid to the smaller stone and lingered wistfully for a moment before sliding back again. This time, it was Hermione that placed her hand upon Severus' shoulder, and he that clutched at her for support. "You would have loved her. We lost her before we could even know her, but I know that she's with you now… and that you'll guide her… protect her... as you were not able to do for me…" A pause, and then: "and as I could not do for her."
Hermione squeezed his hand.
He stood then, and she moved to wrap one arm around his waist. They stood in the gray light of morning for a long while, each sending silent prayers - along with words of love and gratitude - to those gone before them. When the first icy raindrop landed on Hermione's head, she looked to Severus, silently asking if he was ready. He nodded and they started back to the gate, but not before he swept his hand out and cast a stasis spell over the flowers on the headstones.
"Let's go," he said, putting his arm back around her shoulder as they left his mother's family plot. The well-tended graves of his daughter, mother, and maternal grandparents stood in silent salute to their coming… and their going. In the far corner of the lot, the lonely, overgrown, untended grave of his father was almost unnoticeable compared to the pristine stone of the others.
Hermione looked back as he shut the gate, confused: "Severus, why is your father buried here?"
They walked for a few moments before he answered. "My mother insisted that he be buried with her family, as he had none that she knew of."
Hermione nodded. "They loved each other once, didn't they?"
"Yes. But that time was long gone when I came along."
"Who tends the plot, if you haven't been coming?"
"The groundskeeper. He has specific instructions to keep the first four pristine and to not give Tobias Snape a second glance."
Hermione nodded. It seemed a bit cruel, but from what she knew of Severus' childhood and his father, she really couldn't blame him.
"Do you really think she would have loved her, Severus?" Hermione asked when they stepped back onto the main path.
"I would not have let Aislinn share her name if I did not believe it with all my heart, Hermione."
That was enough for her, and she let the subject drop. As they walked away from their unborn daughter's memorial, they were heavy-hearted and weary with grief, but strangely they both felt as if the weight of the world had lifted, if only just. However small it may have been, - in the grand scheme of their lives and the world in which they sought to live them - that part of their journey together had received a bit of closure. Aislinn was a part of their past, but she would be forever with them. Maybe now they could move forward… together.
They came back to the ivy-covered gates just as the rain started to fall in earnest. He turned her face to his and placed another gentle kiss upon her lips before pulling her close. They held each other tightly as the rain pelted them, leaving icy beads of quivering liquid on the fabric of their cloaks.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"No… but I will be."
The corners of his lips turned up in a sad smile just before he whirled them both into the ether, leaving behind only a small, insignificant swirl of fallen leaves.
~ TBC
A/N: Please let me know what you think. I had to step back to the present for a bit – the flashbacks were getting harder to write. The exact circumstances behind Hermione's loss will be cleared up soon. I know what happened; I just have to write it down. Thanks to anyone that's taking the time to read! *hugs*
I listened to "Hymn to the Sea" and "Never an Absolution" from the Titanic soundtrack as I wrote this. Both songs are sorrowful and bittersweet and I thought they fit perfectly with the contents of this chapter. They helped inspire me, and both are beautiful instrumental pieces regardless.
"In the winter of my sorrow, I remember the summer of my joy." ~ Anonymous
Hmm... didn't post my rune symbols. Hopefully they'll show up when I post on another site. They would have said: Peace, Protection, Love. I translated this using an online runic translator, so the accuracy is up in the air, as I know nothing of how to read runes.
White carnations symbolize remembrance.