When Words Don't Sound Right

This time Severus didn't protest when Harry came up to the bedroom and told him they were going to Hermione's place. Privately, Harry wished Severus would complain and argue, but Severus simply obeyed him in absolute silence.

This was bad, Harry knew that much. He just didn't know how to fix it. He suspected that resolving this dead silence would take something huge, something extraordinary – and he didn't know if he had it in him to give.

It had stopped raining when they got to Hermione's, but it was still chilly. This time, Severus made no move to go outside. He looked at the small gazebo in the yard, and then went straight to Bellatrix. When she was finally in his arms, Severus held on to her with desperation, as if she was his only grip on sanity. Hermione asked him to take Bellatrix upstairs and Severus complied without a single word of objection.

Harry stared at him for a brief moment, but then Hermione took his hand and led him outside. Ron joined the two of them on the porch a minute later.

"I wanted to talk about Wild, but I didn't want to talk over the Floo network," Hermione said, once Severus and the baby were upstairs. "Harry, tell me, what makes you think the Manor was a setup?"

"It's the whole thing," Harry said, "it just feels weird, you know? The way she firecalled me right after Severus was captured. Like she just dropped the news on me and waited for my next move. It's like she just wanted me to beg her to stop the de-aging and give her something in return."

Hermione nodded quickly. "I think you're right, Harry. You know, something seemed off about the whole thing from the start! Wild really made it seem like the de-aging process was stopped on the spur of the moment, just because you asked her. But when we came to pick Snape up, he was dressed in this brand new shirt with the price tag still attached to it! Honestly, if it was a spur of the moment thing, where did she get the shirt? Harry, where does one buy a child's shirt at three in the morning?"

Harry lifted his hands in the air. "I give up. Where?"

"Well, you don't, that's the thing. She bought it beforehand. I went to that shop today and checked. Harry, Wild bought that shirt a week ago! She always knew that she wouldn't de-age Severus all the way to infancy! She was counting on you to interfere and beg her to stop, see?"

Harry pressed his hands to his temples. His head was beginning to pound from Hermione's rapid talking.

"So Wild played me," he muttered. "She knew I'd want to save as much of Snape's memories and personality as possible. And she let me do it in exchange for my support. Just wonderful." He privately wished someone would just kill him now to put him out of his misery.

Hermione gave him a pitiful look. "I don't even know why she bothered, I mean, her position was pretty secure even without your support. But I guess you can never have too much power."

"I guess," Harry muttered and, completely sickened, buried his face in his hands. Ron patted him on the back.

"It's okay, mate, look at the bright side," Ron said.

"What's that?" Harry muttered.

"It can only get better from now on."

"Yeah, that's what I thought two days ago," Harry said bitterly.

Somewhere upstairs, Bellatrix began to cry. Ron rose to his feet, gave Harry another pat on his back and went to tend to her. Hermione stayed on the porch next to Harry. He felt her arm around him, hugging him like she used to back in school. Shamelessly, he clung to her, wanting her to make everything better, and knowing that she couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly. "The bitch of it is that it's not really enough to prove anything with the Wizengamot. I mean, it's all circumstantial for now – and she will probably talk her way out of it, if confronted..."

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "I know."

"You didn't see today's paper, did you?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I saw. I hate her."

She gave him another tight hug. "Do you regret it?" she asked in a small voice.

It took Harry a minute to consider her words. It made him sick to be used by Wild this way, but deep down, he knew that given a chance, he would have done the same thing all over again. Snape couldn't stand him back then – and now, either. Chances were they would never be truly okay with each other, at least Harry didn't see how they could be. Still, he couldn't have let Snape disappear completely.

"No. I'd do it all over again," Harry said.

There must have been more despair than usual in his voice, because Hermione gave his shoulder a small shake, urging him to look up.

"Harry, what happened? You're so miserable this morning, you and Severus both. What's going on?"

"He... uh, he was asking for her," Harry said wretchedly.

"Your mum?" Hermione checked.

"Yeah. I told him she was gone."

"And?" Hermione prodded gently.

"And nothing. We didn't really talk after that."

"Why not?" Hermione asked with concern, but without any accusation.

"I don't know," Harry confessed tiredly. "I can't. I open my mouth – and...can't say anything. And when I do, the words don't sound right."

For a long time Hermione was quiet, staring at the ground in front of her. Harry followed her gaze: she watched the small puddle of water pulling on the path at the doorstep and a tiny Scuttling Chameleon crossing it. The critter never bothered to try and make itself into something scary, Harry noted absently. Maybe because it somehow figured out that nothing scared him and Hermione anymore.

"Are you still angry with Severus?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry shook his head. "I – no, not with him. He's just eleven years old. He's done nothing wrong. But the other Snape – yeah, I think so. For everything. Including my parents." Harry found his hands balling into fists automatically. "I don't know how you forgive something like that. Maybe you can't."

"You should probably find a way," Hermione said, very cautious.

"I should," Harry repeated venomously, instantly irritated by what felt like a lecture coming on. "Why should I? He never needed me forgiving him. I tried talking to him, but he couldn't be bothered."

Hermione reached for his fingers, still curled into a fist. She slowly urged him to open his palm, then placed her hand in his.

"It doesn't matter what he needed," she said. "The only thing that matters now is what the eleven year old Severus needs. And children always know when you're angry with them."
"Then it's all hopeless," Harry muttered. "I mean – you talk like you've got it all figured out, but have you forgiven Bellatrix Lestrange for what she did to you in the Manor? Like, honestly?"

Hermione's hand slipped out of his then. She turned away and Harry could see her curling into herself, like she suddenly felt too cold.

"I'm trying to," she whispered finally, now miserable as well. "Whenever I feed her, or change her, or sing to her. And sometimes it hurts so bad, and every time I feel like I'm... I don't know. Beginning to disappear, or something like that. So stupid," Hermione added, embarrassed. "Because she – this baby – really, really hasn't done anything wrong."

Harry laughed out loud bitterly. "We're really screwed up, aren't we?"

Hermione chuckled unhappily as well. "It'll work out, Harry. You and Severus will work it out somehow."

Harry rose to his feet. "Yeah, well, maybe. I should try and feed him for starters."

Hermione stood up as well and gave him a long, disapproving look. "You didn't feed him in the morning? Harry!"

"I cooked," Harry replied sullenly, resentful of being blamed. "He didn't eat. It's not my fault."

"Well, let me try. I've got just the thing – fresh croissants and chocolate spread, and..."

She continued to talk some more, all about food and children, but Harry stopped listening. He didn't understand how one could switch so easily from a conversation that made one's insides all knot up, to talking about food. Then again, maybe to Hermione it was all the same: feeding someone, or forgiving someone, it made no difference.

She went inside eventually. He could hear her calling Severus down to breakfast. Harry didn't go into the house. He stretched his legs and stared up into the sky. It was still mostly grey, but some of the clouds began to part, and he could see the tiniest hint of the pale blue, high above and far away.

To Be Continued...