Songs for this chapter: Safe and Sound Taylor Swift and Landlocked Blues by Bright Eyes
HPOV
Each day the sessions became a little harder. We pushed further and further into magic of my past, and though I found that I could now watch Snape perform magic without causing any sort of disturbance to my environment, I was also discovering for the first time that my history in the magical world was a bit darker than I had realized. Snape had taken to following whatever clues I must have been giving him through my reactions to the memories he was pulling up to follow them to memories he couldn't really have known about. There just seemed to be so many options for him to choose from over the course of the five years that I attended Hogwarts.
As we worked through things, though I was still troubled by the idea of magic, we seemed to be making some sort of progress. At least I assumed I must be making progress that warranted the delving into even more difficult magical memories. We had moved well beyond the pedantic attacks of angry school boys, and into the grittier moments of my past.
I found myself sitting on what I now thought of as my blue pillow facing an unearthly calm Severus Snape while I attempted to reign in the shock I was feeling at just the suggestion of what he wanted to do deal with today.
"The ministry of magic?" I stuttered, as if I had somehow misheard him.
"Yes, I think you are ready to start dealing with a direct affront to your person," he said evenly. "I have faith in your ability to handle it."
I nodded, not sure how to articulate my response to his faith. Part of me felt it was misplaced, and another part was proud to discover its existence. Since when did I desire his approval? He's your professor Hermione, you've always desired his approval. This felt different.
I locked eyes with him, and he slipped into my mind with an ease that spoke of how frequently we did this anymore. I only saw the imagined living room for a moment before a memory I made a point never to think about rippled out to the far corners of my mind. My mind's eye was filled with the image of myself facing a raging and silenced Dolohov. My skin crawled at the sight of him, and I was filled with the urge to scream as he turned his wand on me.
I latched on to the slow rolling calm that Snape was emanating, attempting to halt my own reaction as Dolohov's wand slashed through the air. My panic rose as the purple flames flew through the air, but that steadfast calm bolstered me. I held it close to my heart as the curse hit my chest and my mental agony peaked. The memory of the pain was less than what it had been when it happened, but my fear was so much stronger. As my memory self collapsed to the ground and the darkness fell Severus pulled us back out of the connection. I kept my eyes locked on him, still attempting to draw the calm that he held somewhere within them so I might refrain from an all-out panic attack.
"You are doing very well," he said in that smooth voice of his, holding the eye contact with me the entire time. "Not even a trace of uncontrolled magic."
"You're not going to use magic on me now are you?" I asked him, feeling my stomach roil with nerves at the very idea.
"No," he assured me. "For now I just want you to look away from me, and just take in the room. Look at the lack of damage and take a moment to just be proud of yourself."
I felt my brow quirk at him as I continued to look into his eyes. Be proud of myself? Severus Snape was asking me to be proud of myself? Who was this man and what had he done to the potions master? I kept staring into those dark eyes trying to understand who this man was. This was the man who had tormented my friends and me for years, and to this day remained unrepentant for it, and yet he was not that man anymore. This was the man who was content to sit on a pillow and simply stare in my eyes if that's what it took to keep me calm. Why did it matter to him? Why was he so focused on this?
"Jean, the first step is to break eye contact," he said firmly before he resolutely turned his head and broke eye contact with me.
That startled me out of my thoughts, and I finally followed his instruction to look around the room. He was right of course, though how he knew it without looking I couldn't be sure, everything in the room was in its rightful place. There was not even a sign of the subtle shifting of furniture caused by minimal shaking. I really hadn't done any magic at all. I was supposed to be feeling pride according to Snape, but what I was feeling was relief.
I closed my eyes and basked in the lack of magic surrounding me. For the first time in more than four years, I breathed a tiny sigh of relief at everything being perfectly calm. When the blissfully calm moment passed, I remembered why there should have been a magical response, and the moment was broken.
"Are you ready to go again," he asked quietly, and I turned to look at him once more.
I looked back at his eyes and wondered yet again how I had never noticed that his eyes were blue. It seemed so obvious now. What seemed less obvious was the relevance of his eye color. I was developing some sort of obsession with the dreaded dungeon bat, and clearly there was something wrong with me.
"I'm ready," I said finally, pushing all thought from my mind and simply focused on ensuring that my living room would be in perfect order.
He slipped back in without warning. My work to focus the living room was all for not, as he bypassed it entirely, deftly pulling the next memory from beneath the floor boards so quickly that it seemed to fill my mind instantaneously. My chest froze, the air no longer passing through my lungs as I realized what he had done. I was in that hallway, still thankfully clothed, and I felt as the body bind was released from my person.
I choked on my blind panic as I felt the first wave of the cruciatus, somewhat dulled with time, hit my body. It was more than the agony I had experienced while I had writhed on that floor, because this time I saw it all. I could not simply close my eyes and try to pretend it wasn't happening. I watched as I bit clean through my lip, and smashed my limbs into the carpet and against the walls. I watched Bellatrix laugh maniacally and Dolohov grunt with pleasure. I even took in Lucius Malfoy, seemingly unwilling to look at me as the torture continued.
Time seemed just as irrelevant as I watched this memory unfold, but I was able to track somewhat how much time had passed. I wondered how I could have remained sane, when just that first attack had lasted for more than five minutes. Five minutes of blinding wordless pain that left me a quivering bloody mess on the floor. Through the memory I discovered something I hadn't known at the time, perhaps the shock affecting my ability to feel; I had wet myself during that first onslaught.
My embarrassment warred with my rage and panic and I wanted nothing more than to get out of this memory. I tried to push Snape out of my head, but he was not easily removed this time. Instead I felt his resolve and a firm push to hold myself together. He released the hold he had on the memory, and for a moment I saw the living room which valiantly held together though the trap door was flapping madly. But then I felt an unfamiliar tugging sensation that was impossible to describe yet I likened to the feeling I used to get as a child when I had been spinning circles in the yard but I suddenly stopped.
My living room blurred out of focus as I followed the tug that seemed to be pulling me forward, and suddenly I found myself in complete darkness. It remained for a moment, but then I realized that a room was taking form around me. I thought for a moment the dark stone room that was taking shape around me must be the infrastructure Severus had created within his own, but then with a sinking sensation in my stomach I realized that I could see him. He was prostrate on the floor in the deepest of bows, and I lifted my eyes up to see who he would be so subservient to in the memory.
My blood ran cold when I saw that it was Voldemort himself, who stood over Severus with his wand drawn. I could see his lips moving, and I knew he was saying something to Snape, but the words were distorted and unintelligible. I wondered if he had distorted the memory so I would not be able to hear what this conversation had been about, or if he simply couldn't remember.
The flapping of lips stopped and with the snapping of a wand arm, Snape's back arched up bring his face away from the floor. The room remained silent this time, but it may as well have been full of screaming for the look I saw on his face. His mouth remained firmly closed, but his brows knit together and his eyes were full of a pain that would never have words. I knew that pain.
I watched, feeling as if my very soul were shaking with the emotion it evoked in me, as his torture continued. He slowly degraded his firm stance under that hateful wand, and though his mouth remained closed, tears began to fall from his eyes, and his body began to writhe against that stone floor. For the entirety of the memory I had felt nothing but a steely resolve bleeding out from Snape as he allowed me to see this memory, but as I watched a puddle begin to form beneath his body I felt his embarrassment. Suddenly I understood why he would show me this memory. It was an acknowledgement that it could happen to anyway, not matter how strong they might try to be.
I hoped that he felt my acceptance and understood that I did not think poorly of him for his loss of control. There was another disorienting dizzy sensation and I found myself outside of his mind once more. For a second I was within wall of my own construction but then he broke the connection. When my eyes once gain focused in on the real world, I found that the living room was in disarray. It looked as if a strong wind had blown through uncontrolled, and I knew that I was at fault.
"I'm sorry," I told him, surprised that my voice was rough and my throat hurt.
Had I been screaming?
"Don't apologize, I admit I expected worse," he said quietly, his voice just a smooth as ever. "Are you okay?"
Was I?
"I think… I think that I am," I said finally, my hand climbing up to rub my throat on its own accord. "I'm so tired now."
"That was rather taxing I agree," he sighed. "Let's get some warm tea for your throat, and then off to bed with you. I think we can agree that we should be done for the night."
"Thank you," I sighed, a weight falling from my shoulders at the acknowledgement that I would not be forced to do that again tonight.
I pulled myself awkwardly off the pillow on shaky limbs and followed him into the kitchen. He seemed to forget himself, his eyes distracted, as he set to work on the tea. I watched him surprisingly calm as he summoned a tea cup and conjured the tea within it. I even managed to keep breathing regularly as the refrigerator opened on his command and sent a little jar of honey floating over to him. I wondered vaguely if this was some sort of test, but when I looked to his eyes I saw they were far away and distracted. No, I don't think he even realized he was using magic at all, let alone in front of me.
He handed me the cup, briefly meeting my eyes, before he turned away once more. I saw him moving toward his liquor cabinet, and I decided that was my cue to go to my bedroom. I had only seen him drink on occasions when he seemed particularly upset, and it was easy to gather that he did not wish to have an audience for such times. I sat on the bed sipping at my tea, basking in the relief it lent to my throat.
I was nearly done with the cuppa when I heard a knock at the door. My ears perked up to hear who would be visiting at this time of night, but I did not feel nearly as panicked as I had the last time a knock had sounded at the door. I heard a gruff curse, and I knew that Snape was not at all amused with the idea of having a visitor at the moment. I listened intently taking in the sound of the door creaking open, it could use a greasing.
"Potter, showing up unannounced again I see," Snape's velvet voice scathed.
"Yes sir," Harry answered tentatively. "I was worried that a floo call would be startling, and I admit I came at the late hour hoping that she might have gone to sleep already."
"So you aren't here to see her?" he asked, his voice too even to reveal what he was thinking.
"Well I would love to see her, but I thought it better to first check with you if she is ready for something like that," Harry answered, and his voice sounded closer.
Snape must have let him into the house. There was a silence, where I pictured the two of them taking seats, and I wondered what they would look like trying to be civil with one another when neither liked the other.
"I am not sure she is," Snape answered finally. "She has expressed no desire to speak with anyone outside of this house as of yet."
"How is she," he asked, seemingly unperturbed by my lack of interested in contacting him.
"She gets a little better each day," Snape answered carefully. "It's been a struggle to bring her closer to repairing her magical core, but I think we will get there in time. She is becoming less resistant which should expedite the process."
"I don't mean to be impertinent, but why are you forcing her to repair her magic if she doesn't want to?" Harry asked him so quietly I struggled to hear him. "Wouldn't it be better to leave things well enough alone?"
"Would you say that if it were something other than her magic?" Snape asked him shrewdly.
"Yes I think I would," Harry answered after a pause.
"So if the attack on her person left her unwilling to view the world around her," Snape said, a bit of venom leaking out in his voice. "You would be okay with her deciding to cut out her own eyes?"
"Of course not!" Harry scathed. "That's a part of her body for Merlin's sake."
"Can't you see that its one in the same?" Snape asked him quietly. "Your friend remains in this struggling state for many reasons, but the largest of them is that she refuses to heal her magic, and by leaving that splintered she is leaving her very soul shattered. She may as well cut out her eyes, as it would be just as debilitating."
"But surely she could learn to function without her magic," Harry pushed.
"Yes, just as she could learn to function without her eyes Potter," he sighed. "The problem is that Herm-Jean is a witch, and because of that her magic is an intrinsic piece of her soul, and by leaving it shattered she inhibits her own ability to heal."
I didn't want to listen to them anymore. I hastily tossed back the last of my tea and delicately set the cup down on the bedside table to they would not hear it and realize I was awake and listening to them. I flopped back on the bed, and buried my head under my pillows to drown out the sound of their talking. I focused on the sound of my breathing, willing all thought out of my mind, until ever so slowly I drifted out of the land of the waking and into the world of the dreamers.
I woke screaming, like I had done before in the past. But this was different. The screams were retched, and I felt as if tendons were snapping in my throat. The nightmare had been the worst I had experienced, and to my surprise it hadn't been me who had been writhing in pain on the floor. My eyes snapped open, and I realized that the reason I felt as if I was living through an earth quake was because hands were shaking my arms.
I blinked the sleep from my eyes and I realized that there was another body on the bed with me, and I followed the arms with my eyes, leading up away from me and into those deep dark eyes. I surprised us both by launching myself up from the bed throwing my arms around him.
"Severus," I gasped out, barely audible through the rasping sound of my voice. "It was so wretched, I'm so sorry."
"What are you on about," he asked me, and I felt his chest vibrate with his speech, vibrating against me as I clung to him, reassuring myself that he was alive and well.
"My dream, I-I-I was torturing you," I choked out, and then I began to cry.
Great sobs tore from my chest, turning my stomach with their force. I clutched at his robes, seeking some sort of comfort from the horrible dream. In the back of my mind I felt the surprise that not only was I allowing someone to touch me; I was actively seeking it out. But in the front of my mind, all I felt was the need to be certain he was whole and living.
"Shhhh," he soothed, starting with a gentle rocking motion that helped to sooth me though the tears did not stop completely. "It was just a dream. Everything is just fine. Nothing has happened."
He stayed mostly quiet after that, but he continued to rock me. Ever so slowly he wrapped his arms around me, and I felt the last of the tension bleed out of my frame as I melt into him, my tear stained face pressing into the chest of his robes. It took time, but slowly breathing became easier, and I felt the tears stop. My throat ached terribly, and I was so tired, but the worst of it had passed.
"How did you get in?" I asked him finally, in a froggy voice I hardy recognized. "I thought the wards wouldn't let anyone through."
"Not without causing them extreme pain, but it is possible to breach them with the right determination," he told me quietly.
"I don't know who else would bloody well try to though," a strained voice responded, and I snapped my head to the side. "That was right insane."
Peaking under Severus's arm, I saw that Harry was standing just outside the doorway looking a bit puckish as he stared at the man who was holding me. I wasn't sure what to respond to first. I wanted to ask Severus if he had really walked through the wards to get to me, but I also wanted to address the fact that Harry was still here. And that he could see me. I glanced surreptitiously down at my arms, and saw that though they had faded, all of my scars were still quite visible. Was I ready for him to see me?
"Why did you walk through the wards?" I asked finally, leaning back out of the hug so I could see his face. "You didn't leave them up simply because I hadn't asked you to take them down did you?"
"I didn't think about it," he told me, his brow constricting as he looked down at me. "You were screaming bloody murder, and I just didn't even think."
"Severus, you are an idiot," I said lightly, and to my surprise a tiny chuckle fell from my lips.
Something flashed in his eyes and I wondered if he was angry that I had insulted him. His features seemed too soft to be angry though. He actually looked a bit shocked. Maybe it was the fact that his hands still rested on my shoulders and I was doing nothing to stop it, or maybe it was the fact that after the screaming that had brought him running I seemed mostly put together. Or maybe it was as simple as the fact that I had called him by his name. I realized now I had never done it before not even in my mind. Something felt different tonight though. Maybe it was the dream being so different, or maybe it was the memory he had shared with me. Something was different.
"You can drop the wards if you want," I said finally. "I trust you."
Something definitely passed through his eyes that time, but he still said nothing. His head titled just slightly, but then the moment seemed to pass.
"I will go get you some more tea," he said, as he delicately released his hold on me and moved up and away from me. "And perhaps a lozenge."
Then he turned to the door, drawing his wand, and I saw Harry quickly move away from the doorway. Did he think that Severus would harm him? The idea was laughable to me, but I didn't laugh, I was much too tired for that. I felt the ripple of his magic as he removed the wards, and then I watched him walk swiftly out of the room, his robes snapping around the corner as he disappeared down the stairs.
Harry reappeared in the doorway, and tentatively stuck a hand through the open space. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened and stepped carefully in the room. I noticed his movements were slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a rabid dog, but I tried not to be offended. He stopped hallway between the door and the bed, and he just looked at me.
"Saying I've missed you doesn't seem to quite get it right," he said after a long time. "After years of thinking you were dead, seeing you again is just… incredible."
"You look good," I told him. "I notice your scar has gone, been using some of that scar healing paste yourself?"
"No, it was something else, but that's a bit of a long story," he said quietly. "Perhaps another time. I notice yours are going as well, or at least it looks like it, I didn't get a good look at them last time to be honest."
That made me self-conscious, and I quickly pulled the green blanket up to my chin, covering what I could.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I take it Snape has been helping with them though?" he asked, and I gave a curt nod. "Makes sense. I think he would do just about anything for you. Walking through that doorway… well that was something else."
"What happened?" I asked, my curiosity about the wards overriding my discomfort at having him see me like this.
"I didn't even realize there were wards until he tried to get into the room," Harry said, his eyes loosing focus as he thought of the memory. "One minute he was walking, and the next he was on his knees, his teeth bared in obvious agony as he literally dragged himself across the floor to get into the room."
My stomach turned with guilt, and unbidden an image of the flailing Severus from my dream filtered into my mind. I had dreamt of being a source of pain for him, but in a way it had been real. He had walked through a fire of his own making to get to me, and I couldn't begin to fathom why he would do that.
"Once he was clear of the door it seemed to be fine," Harry went on after a while. "He pulled himself up, and set to the task of trying to wake you. The whole thing was that much more disturbing with your screams filling the room. Do you have nightmares a lot?"
"Yes," I answered honestly. "But not like that. And mostly they have been getting better lately. That was… unexpected to say the least."
Just as I finished speaking Severus reappeared in the room, and made his way toward me with a new cup of tea. He held it in his hand as he approached the bed, but when I reached for it he did not immediately hand it over. Instead he dug in his pocket and produced a lozenge, that I was surprised to see I recognized as being muggle. It was the same kind my mother used to give me when I had a bad cold, because they temporarily numbed the throat.
I took it with a small smile of gratitude and gladly unwrapped it and put it in my mouth. He extended his hand for the wrapper, and when I turned it over, he finally gave me the tea. I sipped at it slowly, my eyes beginning to droop almost instantly, and I suspected he had dosed it with dreamless sleep. He took the old tea cup from the nightstand, and waited patiently for me to drink up the cup he had given to me. I would have liked to take my time sipping at it, but I was worried I would end up drifting off with it in my hand and spill it everywhere, so I hurried to finish it off quickly. I handed the cup back to him, and settled back into the bed.
"I think that's enough excited for one night," he said quietly as he turned to look at Harry with a stern eye. "I think it's time to go home to your wife."
My curiosity flared at the mention of a wife, but I was simply too tired. I snuggled deeper into my blankets as I felt my eyes grow heavier. The two men left my room, and Severus paused only to turn the light out before he disappeared down the stairs once more.
Things changed after that night. Some of the changes were better, as it seemed acknowledging that I trusted him left me feeling quite comfortable around Severus. Others were hard, because my slow growing ability to handle magic being used around me, lead to more intensive sessions meant to break down the wall I had created to keep it separate from me.
After what seemed a lifetime of unpleasant session that slowly dwindled the topics we had left to breach I realized that all that we had left to delve into were things of a sexual variety. I was terrified to even think of them, and Severus seemed hesitant to deal with them. For which I found myself rather grateful. So it was with a heavy heart that I sat down at the kitchen table with him. He said we needed to discuss the next step, and I was on edge about breaching this final barrier.
"We've done good work on the magic issue," he started quietly while I focused on dipping my tea bag. "But I think I know what the last barrier is that is keeping us from restoring your magical core."
"What is that?" I asked hesitantly, not willing to give an inch on this. If he was going to make us do this, it was going to be a hard fought victory.
"The way we used occlumency to structure your mind," he answered simply.
I was floored. That was not what I had expected at all. I looked up to him instinctively tilting my head to the side as I tried to understand what he was saying.
"In essence we have built a rather elaborate way of repressing the magical side of yourself," he went on. "I think it's time we dismantle it."
"You mean, just let my defenses go?" I questioned feeling an unfamiliar doubt in him rise up in my chest. "I don't mean to be rude, but that sounds like a bloody awful idea."
He stiffened, and I suspected it was at my disrespectful tone, but he did not address it.
"Well, one person in this room is an expert on occlumency, so I suspect it would be best to follow their advice on the issue," he said stiffly. "In order to further facilitate your recovery the block between you and your magical core needs to be restored, and removing the infrastructure should allow us to do that."
I stared at him, feeling myself grow angry with him, and I realized that we were going to fight. I found in that moment as I stared at him across the table that I didn't care that he was the feared potions professor. I didn't even care that he was the man that had been so helpful to me all this summer. No in that moment all I cared about was that he was going to try and force me to do something that was fairly well guaranteed to be painful and unpleasant.
"Well then I suppose we should go with the one expert on the desires of on Jean Granger and listen to her insistence that she has no desire to reconnect with her magical core," I snipped. "Thus the destruction of the one thing keeping me sane is not needed."
"We are nearing the end of August," he said stiffly. "If I push this back any further, you won't be ready in time to return to Hogwarts."
I pulled up short. What the hell was he talking about? There seemed to be less air in the room as I attempted to think through the sudden panic I was feeling.
"Who said anything about returning to Hogwarts," I gasped at him, annoyed at how breathy my voice sounded.
"It's the next natural step," he sighed. "You have yet to complete your education. You would find it difficult to find an adequate job in the wizard world without proper certification."
"I'll be doing no such thing," I scathed, pushing my chair back and standing from the table. "I do not want a job in the wizarding world; I do not want to return to Hogwarts. I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH MAGIC!"
"You are a witch, magic is your very essence," he snapped, standing from the table himself.
"Hermione Granger was a witch," I scathed. "But that girl died four years ago. I'm sure if you were to check you would note that Jean Granger has no home on the registry of Hogwarts students."
I expected yelling, or a snide comment. Some sort of rise for my cheek. I was woefully unprepared for what came next.
"Legillimens," he said in a deadly voice as he swept around table closing the distance between us.
I was so shocked by the invasion of my mind, that the leaning wall had returned in my living room. I felt his presence firmly his time, and it was oppressive. He did not pull out memories like I was accustomed to, instead his invisible presence began to wreak havoc in my mind. Furniture began to disappear from the living room and I felt a sick feeling in my stomach as he began to strip away my defenses.
Your mind would be more receptive to the changes if you were the one to take down the barriers his voice lashed against me. His words were heavy with the anger he was feeling, and it only spiked when he felt my refusal to help him.
Instead I focused on trying to recreate what he had taken. I had grown so comfortable around this man, that I had forgotten his past. I had forgotten that he could be ruthless, and most of all I had forgotten that he was a very powerful wizard. In a wave of absolute fury, ever single addition to my living room was wiped away. I was left with a barren room already marred by a leaning wall, and I could feel a great shaking within me as those walls began to tremble under his attack.
There was one unending moment where I drown in my fear and his anger that seemed to drag on for an eternity. Then with a ruthless efficiency, he rent the walls apart, leaving an deep unfathomable blackness in its wake. I did the only thing I could think of I threw myself blindly after the disappearing wall. I felt that strange rushing sensation once more, and I fell rather ungracefully into the mind of Severus Snape.
I got a snapshot of his emotions on impact. Regret, sadness, anger, betrayal, and a desire for absolution. And then I was unceremoniously shoved out of his mind as he severed our mental connection. I found myself leaning against the counter panting. I was shocked, and scared, and so angry. Severus was moving back around the table, practically prowling as his anger radiated off of him. Let him be mad, that bastard. He had crossed a line; he had no right to be angry with me for crossing one as well.
"Are you happy now you wanker," I snapped finally, kicking my abandoned chair in my anger. "You put all the pieces back together. Yay you."
I was being rude, but I wasn't being dishonest. I could feel the connection that had been made by his snapping of my defenses. I could feel my magic flowing through my body in a way I hadn't experienced since that very first time casting a spell. If I hadn't grown to hate magic so it would have been a joyous occasion.
"I'm sorry that I had to do it that way," he said in a calm voice that did not match his angry face. "It was the only way to make you see reason. With your core intact, all you really need to return to Hogwarts is a wand and a bit of determination."
"I am not returning to Hogwarts!" I screamed at him, slamming my hands down on the table, upsetting my cup of tea.
"Hermione, it has to be done," he said quietly, turning to face me fully once more.
"My name is Jean," I said, my voice falling into a deadly calm as I back up to put more space between us. "I thank you kindly for all the help you've given me, but I think we've reached the moment of our parting."
"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly.
"All this time, I've been trying to figure out what it was you wanted from me. I never could, and I eventually told myself you were just being selfless," I explained coolly as I moved hesitantly toward the door. "But now I understand. You think returning me to the wizarding world with absolve you of some guilt you harbor. I will not be your penance Severus Snape."
I pushed open the kitchen door, and made my way toward the coat rack that held the jacket he had transfigured for me when he had tried to convince me to step outside of the house weeks ago. I heard his footsteps behind me, but I attempted to ignore him as I pulled the jacket on.
"So that's it then," he snapped, the anger clear in his voice. "I make you angry one and you're just going to leave. And where exactly do you intend to go?"
"I haven't any idea," I said loftily as I opened the front door and stepped out into the falling night with Severus hot on my heels. "But I believe I have proved over the years that I can find a way to make ends meet somehow."
He pulled up short, and a small distance grew between us as he stood still and I continued forward.
"If you leave now," he said a little louder as I continued to move away from him. "You will not be welcome back."
I turned to look at him, surprised to see that his face looked pained. Surprised, but too angry to be effected by it.
"I have absolutely no intention of returning here," I snapped in parting, and I turned and continued to walk away.
I hit the end of the block before I heard the telltale cracking of apparition. I quickly pushed aside the question of where he would be going, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and heading out of whatever town this was.
Well that was rather more difficult to do that I thought. I've been building towards their fight for awhile, but simultaneously building their relationship in the process left me more bereft by their departure than I expected. It's been awhile since I have felt quite so attached to my characters, and I rarely cry over my own work, but I must admit my eyes teared up as I thought about Dear Severus standing on his own on the dark streets of Spinners End.