ear Phoebe,
Nothing lasts forever, unfortunalty this is also true of people. I regret that I'll not live to see Elizabeth grow up, she's such a sweet girl, you'll be the best mother to her. You have your doubts, but she'll do well if you raise her, you're so brilliant and kind, how could she not turn out well?
Do you remember when we were little and I was hospitalized for my first round of chemo-therapy? They told me that I wouldn't live past the year, Dad cried and Momma kicked and screamed demanding more doctors to look at me. I was so scared, they didn't think we were awake when they told them. I remember after they left I began to weep, but you held my hand and said "I'm older, I get to go first." I think of that every day, you were eight when you said that. You were so frightened yourself, but your concern was comforting your distraught little sister. You were always so wise beyond your years, I doubt I hid it well, but I was always jealous of you. You always knew what to do.
Now it's my turn to impart the wisdom of my years to you in this time of change. You're married, you're a new mum, and you're struggling with how to cope with everything. Mark's a great guy, you chose well, he'll guard you like you've guarded me. Elizabeth's such a sweet, smiling child and she has your eyes. Those green eyes have seen more than anyone else will ever see. Encourage her to help others who aren't blessed with your eyes.
Now I'll share the wisdom of all my sixteen years to Elizabeth, what I've found out the hard way might save her some tears.
Tell her that if she wants love all she has to do is give it, tell her not to let opportunities pass her by, she'll regret it if she doesn't. Tell her not to let the hardships in life to drag her down as they did me. I spent too many hours weeping when I could have been laughing. Tell her to be easy on herself, but to push herself to realize her dreams, life's too short not to. She doesn't have to break her back to please anyone but herself, I've lost too much trying to please everyone. Tell her to love with all her heart, but tread with caution when it comes to boys. Tell her to keep her secrets safe, but choose someone to be open with, being so guarded has caused me more grief than I care to mention. Elizabeth is a wonderful, beautiful and special child, remind her of it when she needs it. And tell everyone you love that you love them everyday! I wish I did. Elizabeth, you won't remember me, but take my advice, tell your momma you love her everyday and respect her wisdom, she can help you if you let her. She loves you very much and remember as you get older, she will too.
Pheobe, my bestfriend, my guide, my confidant, my sister. I love you more dearly than words can express and I will always be looking out for you from the heavens. I'll be your shadow, the sun dancing across the ocean and I'll be the daffodils blooming in the spring. I'll be alive in your memories so please don't cry for me. Follow the advice I told you to tell Elizabeth. Take a breath every now and then, find your truths, be selfish, be sacrificing, keep your promises and just be you. You'll be alright so long as you remember there's beauty in the weakness as there is in strength.
Time is a fickle thing, we only have so much and we can never get it back. Nobody knows how much time they have left, but we can make the most of it. Love with everything you have and let those you love know. All you have is all they have, which is the present. Don't let them go before you've told them how you truly feel. Don't leave apologies, forgiveness and i love yous unsaid. I have and I regret it. You're the wisest, strongest, kindest person I have ever known. Please, Pheobe, don't you ever lose that.
IF you lay fresh flowers on my grave know that the time you spend talking to my headstone you can spend watching the sunrise with your husband and daughter. See the beauty in this world and it's people, but never overlook the beauty inside you.
Tell Momma that I love her and not to cry, my illness made me strong and my death isn't the end for her. I'm still with her. Tell Dad I love him and that I will be in every note of every song you two play together. Tell Henry to love his parents and to grow up slowly. Let Crystal and Jewel that your sister is all you have and to cherish eachother as we have. As for Aunt Colleen, Uncle Tom, Aunt Dana and Uncle Jonathan, tell them my life couldn't be complete without them. Tell Nana I'm sorry she had to burry me, but I'd rather this than the other way around.
Tell them and yourself that I am happy where I am, I miss you, but will be with you whenever I can. My illness was necessary, it made me appreciate so much, and brought a family in shambles together. If this is all my life does I couldn't be happier. God has chosen this and He, despite my many accusations, doesn't act out of malice. In every seed there's a perfect plant and mine will bloom through your actions.
Now another thing I remembered from when we were little is when you were tired of reading to me every night and had me tell you stories I made up. You loved them so much to the point you've been telling me to write them since. Well, in this book are five short stories, the rest of the pages are for Nanna, you, Momma and Elizabeth when she's old enough. Tell these stories to your daughter ad have her tell them to her children. We all live beyond our deaths.
I love you very much.
All my love,
Hermione.
Severus couldn't believe what he was reading when he opened what he thought was merely a book of Victorian poetry. Hermione knew she was dying and hadn't said a word to anyone. He didn't want to believe it, as he re-read the letter to her sister. Hermione couldn't be dying, she swore again and again she was cured, someone that sick couldn't lie about that. He was certain she wouldn't do that. If not to him, she would tell somebody she was dying. She was so young, but that didn't matter, his mother was barely forty when ALS finally won. Hermione's disease was clearly just as bad.
Tears sprang to his eyes unexpectedly as he thought of it. He couldn't bear to imagine her wasting away as she lost all her physical abilities. He imagined her cold, fragile body laying in a hospital bed too weak to lift her head. It made him shudder. He dried his eyes and with a deep breath scoured the pages for a hint on what to expect. He had qualms with betraying her trust when she was dying, but if there was something in those pages he could use to save her he didn't care.
Only one story dealt with disease. A girl Hermione's age was the main character's sister who was dying of Leukemia. The character, Loreena's, problems began when she began fainting and bruises appeared on her skin without impact. In the end Loreena dies of the disease, but her mother and sister cope remarkably well. Hermione had mentioned chemo in her letter, could she have that? With another shudder he closed the book. He had to talk to her at some point about it.
No sooner then he came to the conclusion he heard a rapping at his door. He gathered his composure and, book still in hand he answered the door to see Hermione with Seamus Finnegan standing at her side. She had a small green book in her hands and seemed to shrink next to Finnegan, or possibly shrank in front of him. She seemed to look for signals in his face betraying he'd read her writing. She didn't seem to find anything as she simply held the book out. "I think there's been a bit of a mix-up."
"Yes," he nodded as he took the book back and handed her back the other. "Perhaps you should pay better attention to where you are walking to avoid this happening again."
Hermione held herself with a rigidness as a sarcastic smile found her lips, her brown eyes seemed to glow with an anger. "Why, of course I will, Professor. Afterall, the whole thing must've been my fault, so I'll be sure to correct it. Thank you so much for the helpful advice, sir."
"You're very welcome, my dear," he spoke with the same falseness she did thanking her awful attitude and Finnegan's presence for keeping him from throwing his arms around her. "Afterall, it is my job to impart my knowledge on you precious little things." He added pinching her cheek.
Hermione shuddered but he wasn't certain if it was his touch that made her shudder or Finnegan's hand on her shoulder. It seemed to him she chose the lesser of two evils and chose to have another student with her at all times. He imagined she regretted her choice. The life of a caged bird wasn't for her.
"Thank you for getting this back to me," Hermione spoke without the falseness and her smile faded. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
The two turned away at this and began to leave but a hand clapped on Hermione's shoulder and his voice floated over her head. "A word, Granger?"
At this she felt a heavy sinking feeling. She'd had Seamus agree to follow her around the castle to keep him off her back. Seamus proved to be both worse and better than Snape. Seamus didn't back away when he knew without a doubt she needed it, but he also didn't ask questions. Snape tracked her down tenaciously, but after expressing her complaints he'd give her a day, Seamus didn't give her an hour. She'd thought by sacrificing every moment of her life would spare her from his questions.
"Alone..." he scowled at Seamus who took her hand.
"I'll meet you back in the commons, Seamus," Hermione wrung from his grip easily.
"I'll see you."
After he left Snape ushered her into his office and shut the door behind him. She turned to face him, he returned her confused gaze with an exhausted one. He seemed so tired, his weary black eyes had dark circles under them, his long, greasy black hair was now matted, his tall slender body seemed weaker, and his skin seemed even paler than it had been. The man in shambles was a result of his chasing her around. He knew this, she knew this.
"Are you alright?" she asked him.
"I'm fine," he walked up to her and placed his hand on her forehead. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine." She said backing away from him. "You look like you haven't been sleeping much."
"And sleep avoids you as you avoid me," he noted throwing a blanket over her shoulders. "I half wonder if that contributes to your inability to be warm."
"It's my circulation," she sighed taking the blanket off her shoulders and folding it neatly. "Thank you," she handed it back to him. "I'm used to the way I sleep anyway."
"Being accustomed to torture doesn't make it any better for you. And no amount of glamours will fool me into thinking you're healthy." He held her face in his hands as he examined her, perhaps for tell-tale signs she was ill. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
"I'm getting the medical attention I need. I wouldn't worry so much if I were you. The worry's made you sick."
"I'm a grown man, Granger," he began letting go of her face. "I understand perfectly what excessive worry does to a person. Don't worry about it."
"That would be hypocrisy," she noted in a matter of fact voice.
"Sit down before you faint," he returned her matter-of-factedness. "Your attitude is simply appalling."
Hermione sat down, but her obiedience wouldn't be unaccompanied with another attempt to push him away. "Does this not please you, sir?"
"It doesn't please you either," he sighed sitting across from her. "You don't want to act like this, I've seen how it pains you to act this way with Potter and Weasley. I'm beginning to think it also pains you to act this way with me. If you are trying to push me away, I assure you it won't work."
Hermione sighed as she looked down. "Why am I here?"
"I've told our headmaster that I'd keep an eye on you," he tried to re-establish eye-contact but her head remained bent as one hand covered her forehead and eyes. "You have a good deal of us concerned—"
"At this rate," Hermione began finally making eye-contact, "I'd give you people my own soul if you'd ignore me."
"Seems strangely out of character for someone who calls attention to herself on a daily basis."
"And what do you know of my character? Tell me what's in character for me, Professor? You seem to just have us all pinned so well!" Hermione sighed and hit her head against the hard wood of the desk, making a thud. "Ah, what the hell, it doesn't matter anyway."
"I can't tell you what's in or out of your character these days. You're not the little girl who walked into my class room five years ago. Nor can you seem to keep the same mood for a minute."
"We all have our breaking points..."
"What are you talking about?" he asked taking her hand.
"Either something or nothing..."
"I thought you quit Trelawny's class, Granger?"
Hermione sighed as she raised her head and took her hand back. "I'm beginning to think my insomnia is affecting... That was another way of saying I don't remember what I was getting to."
Severus examined the pale face before him, her eyes flickered in the light with a million emotions. She looked tired, frustrated, sad, angry, and confused as she looked at him waiting for a reply. If it wasn't for her eyes, her expression might have conveyed nothing. He recognized the expression from his mother...
"I'm fine, Sev," said his mother had been found lying on her kitchen floor.
"When will stop this, Mum?" he asked helping her up.
At eighteen he stood taller than his frail mother. Both of them were tall and slender, as well as pale, but Sirena had been these things to the extreme. White streaked black hair framed a chalky face, the deterroration of her muscles caused her body to be gaunt, almost every bone in her body was visible. The warm smile that warmed his heart as a child made him cringe. It was false, a poor mask to cover the hopelessness.
"I'm taking my medicine, I'm working my muscles. I'll be fine, darling." She smiled weakly as she tried not to lean on him. He knew she didn't believe what she told him. The mixture of emotion in her eyes told him so.
"Working your muscles does so little when it's your brain taking away your ability to control them. Even now, your hands are shaking. He doesn't take care of you, you won't last long here. Let me take care of you."
Sirena looked up at him and shook her head. "Your father just doesn't know how to cope...until he accepts it, I can take care of myself. Need I remind you, you're the child?"
"You are so difficult. Just come to St. Mungo's with me, they'll care for you better than the muggle-hospitals will. Our medicines are far from cures, but it'll be less painful."
"Severus, stop!" his mother tried to break from his grip, which tightened in his desperation tosave his mother.
"Stop fighting me!" he shouted drawing the shrinking weak woman closer.
"Dammit, Severus!" she screamed at him for the first time, her eyes were flooded with a mix of anger and sadness. "I refuse to die where my husband can't see me!"
"Die?" he gasped letting her go. "I—"
"It was envitable, Severus...ALS will always run it's course, magic or mundane treatments only prolong the process."
"It'll buy you enough time—"
"Dr. Harding gives me less than three months," the anger had waned in her eye, but the confusion, sadness and exhaustion stayed. "I would sooner die without my son's scorn..."
"You won't die anytime soon, Mum," he sighed wrapping his arms around her. "If I have to move heaven and earth to find a cure I will."
"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd never accept it. I need to make peace with dying." The anger returned in her black eyes with disappointment. The disappointment in her tear filled eyes killed him. She shouldn't have expected him to accept this.
He walked away from his mother's house with a heavy heart. At the enlightened age of eighteen he hadn't known the next time he'd see her would be the weeks she wasted away in a hospital bed.
Hermione's eyes were the same, the absence of tears didn't change this. She was hiding the severity of her condition because she knew no one would accept it. She couldn't make peace with dying if no one let her. He assumed she thought she was "protecting" her loved ones from the truth. He couldn't let her die...any lesson he learned from letting his mother down told him she needed the support of someone, someone who knew. If she knew how much she meant to people perhaps it'd give her more reason to hold on.
"Are you alright?" she asked him, alerting him to the fact he had been holding her face in his hands and staring at her blankly. His eyes felt moist, but he thanked the stars they hadn't brimmed over.
" Are you?"
"What? You're gonna answer all my questions with questions, now?"Hermione sighed.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"God forgive the fact I'm concerned!" she slapped her forehead. "Will you answer my question?"
"Is something wrong?" he let go of her face and leaned in close to her.
"What's wrong with you?"
Severus sighed shaking his head. The last thing she needed was this. "I'm fine. Though I'd be lying if I said you aren't driving me mad."
Confusion now dominanted her eyes. "How do I drive you mad?"
He again rested a palm on her cheek. "In more ways than you could possibly imagine."
"I'm afraid I've had that affect on people for a while." She sighed with both guilt and exhaustion. "I'm sorry."
"No witty retorts?"
"I've probably slept an hour through this whole week. My brain's focused on other things like walking and breathing."
"Maybe you should do something aboutthat?"
"I am, don't worry about it."
"And what are you doing about it, might I ask?"
"I have my ways." She was willing to drop it at that, but then she saw his disbelief and his mouth open as if he were about to suggest something. "Even then, I'm not quite sure it would help if you offered a cure."
"You're really fond of that word aren't you?" he asked. "I've never seen someone use the word 'cure' so much. I'm beginning to think that your trying to convince yourself with repetition."
"There's nothing to convince myself of..." Hermione stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Are we done here?"
She felt hands clap on her shoulders to steady her. She had hoped he didn't notice her wavering, but she hadn't hid it well enough. Since her transplant hasty exits were taken away, she would have to accept that.
"Once you can stand on your own you can leave." He sat her down in the chair.
Hermione nervously played with her hair and brought a tendril up to her mouth when she felt his eyes on her to keep from squirming. She stared awkwardly at her feet noting the cracks in the grey stone, the cracks spread from her feet like wings on a bird, each crack was a vein. Shadows played on the floor from the fading twilight coming through the window. As the sun's positions changed the shadows of mundane things such as furniture and her own shadow became creatures of strange and mythical origins looking to heal her and destroy her. The creatures were blotted out by one large shadow behind her.
"Either you're avoiding any chance of eye-contact or you think your feet are very fascinating."
Hermione looked up at the voice's owner, black eyes bore into hers with a concerned curiosity..and something else it seemed. "Have you ever noticed how things change dramatically with different lighting?" She looked back down. "The cracks in the floor are like viens in a living creature, life pulsing inside it as the changing lights that stream through the window fill the crevices making the veins' life force. It's very interesting."
"Are you—"
Hermione slowly got up from her chair. "I think I'm good to go, sir."
"Of course, Miss Granger," he nodded, confusion still present on his face. "Just be careful."
"Am I ever not?"
And with that the girl was gone. He didn;t get anywhere, he didn't know if he should blame his beating around the bush, or if Hermione's queer behaviour was to blame. He could have been more blunt, but it seemed insensitive to ask someone if they have a cancer...even he wouldn't cross that boundry.
He looked down at the cracks in the floor. Dim light filed the jagged, thin crevices, Hermione had compared the lighted cracks to veins, but he saw a jumbled confusing map that was supposed to tell him where to go. He couldn't read the directions as he stared at the cracks.
That's because there's nothing to read. Why do you always point out these stupid things, Hermione? He rolled his eyes at the foolish thing and left his office. If he was quick enough he might catch her. And if not he needed the air.
Leaving the dungeons he gave up on catching the girl, she must've cleared a good distance while he stared at the cracks. He made his way to the small courtyard he had begun to favour with a million thoughts coursing through his head. Was it leukemia making her so ill? Was she honestly dying? Did anyone else know? How long did she have? He wished he had answers to the questions he kept coming up with. He wondered if he was more of an idiot to let her out of his sight or to get close to her in the first place. She was a strange creature he felt compelled to follow. And she was one he needed to approach her with caution or she'd flee.
Leaning by the archway he saw that strange creature sitting on the stone bench beneath the leafy oak with a large book laying across her lap. She was muttering lowly as she wrote on a notebook she held above the book, but loudly enough for him to hear it. It was odd to see her so tranquil while conscious. He smiled with slight amusement when he saw her lips moving. He half-wished she'd mutter loud enough for him to hear her. Quickly decided he'd rather just watch her. She was in a peaceful state, he hadn't seen this since her fall, she'd always been too high-strung when she knew of his prescence. Part of him wanted to just leave the girl alone, another was deeply fascinated by annoying know-it-all, a bookworm who was entirely too sensitive and had a stubborn streak as wide as an ox-cart. And how could he forget her over-developed sense of morality creating an out of place feminist and an advocate of house-elves.
Ron walked down with Seamus wondering discussing a novel Hermione urged them to read. Well, they were more discussing why Hermione liked reading something so difficult to interpret when they saw Snape standing by an open archway, staring out into a courtyard as if entranced. Ron then remembered they were looking for something that Snape had been fascinated with lately.
They approached the archway only to have a long arm cut them off their entry. In the courtyard, sure enough, was Hermione who was simply writing in an old notebook..
On the side of the bench she pulled out a small book and quill. Setting her ink beside her she dipped her quill in the ink and began to write. She wrote lightly with a delicacy and a passion, she seemed as though she were in a trance. She wasn't in that courtyard, she was elsewhere, she was in her own world. She left that world when she looked to the side to see three unwelcomed on-lookers. Ron felt his ears flush as he prepared himself for what ever she'd say to him.
Hermione lidded her ink and shoved her things in her bag then slung it over her shoulder. She marched over to them, eyes ablaze, her tiny posture held up straight and indignant. The party of men broke the feminists independant moment of peace. They were sure to get a lecture on how sexist they were all being. Snape would deny it and remind her she's suffering from some illness that for some reason requires her to be monitored. Then, like any time anyone points out her illness all hell would break loose. Ron wouldn't be able to go through it with being dragged into taking Hermione's side and then being told why it meant he was a lousy friend to her by Snape. The two would groan and roll eyes, throw sarcastic remarks around then separate only to do it again.
"I am breaking some sort of law or school rule that I wasn't aware of?" Hermione asked practically shaking in anger.
"I was merely coming here to sit," Snape began raising his hand to her cheek. "I can't be reproached for enjoying music, Granger. I just knew you'd stop if I entered your field of vision."
"Really, you know me so well, Mr. Too-dull-to-shock?" Hermione scoffed setting Ron aback. This was completely out of character for her. But he couldn't blame her when he had been stalking her.
He was now rubbing her cheek lightly, almost unnoticeably, with his thumb and his free hand found her shoulder. "Of course, Little-Miss-Know-it-all."
The scene made Ron cringe. How could she not say anything? Ron walked closer and took hold of Hermione's arm and drew her closer to him. "Hold your under-age female students, there's no way that could ever be misconstrued as sexual harassment!"
"And grabbing her definitely has no negative connotations," Snape replied smugly letting go of her. "Detention, Weasley."
"What for?" Ron asked, regrettably with the sadistic hope of making him squirm.
"Let's forget about your groundless accusation for now and just look at the fact you grabbed a fellow student." Snape smirked. "I can't condone that kind of violent behaviour, now can I?"
"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes. "—"
"Don't you start!" Ron groaned. "If you had actually come back instead of running off—"
"Don't tell me how stupid and irresponsible I've become, Ron." She huffed. "I'm well aware."
There was a silence among the four, she started shaking and rubbing her arms. Ron noticed her lips were as purple as the highest layer in the sky outside the archway. Ron noted Snape had reached out for her but stopped when he remembered the company they had. But he was the only to ask her if she was alright.
"It's getting late, it's cold," she looked at with a wan smile. "Let's go to the commons, or really anywhere, I'm so cold here."
"Of course, Hermione," Ron said taking her by the hand.
"Am I a child or an invalid?" Hermione asked taking her hand back. "Don't hold my hand, I'll make it there without dropping."
"Good luck with that, Granger."
The three walked to the commons and Hermione had been silent the entire walk while Seamus reminded her how serious he thought her illness must have been if she shared a hospital room with his mother over the summer. Ron wasn't sure if he felt sorry for her or not. Since he was poisoned on his seventeenth birthday he had come to the conclusion he liked her, but she had been such a pain in the ass. The mystery illness made her even more of one.
Everyone who knew something about her being ill treated her differently. Ron only saw that she was fainting a lot. She couldn't be seriously ill if that was her only symptom, yet Snape acted like she was dying, Seamus wasn't much better, but his mother's heart condition gave him an excuse.
He wondered if Ginny and Luna were more intune with reality than he thought when they assumed he genuinely cared for her. It was odd to see the way the two acted, even disturbing. He couldn't tell what sort of relationship the two had, but he didn't like it.