Hello Darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again
(Simon & Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence)
"I don't need a therapist," blurted Harry. "You said I could tell you everything. You're a healer and you're my friend. Remember?" he asked quite hotly.
Hermione tried to speak but he did not let her. "We went to hell and back together. We fought together. We were hungry together, picking barely edible plants and rummaging through bins, and we huddled in the same bed when we were too cold and too frightened. I probably wouldn't have made it without you."
He seized Hermione and clasped her to his chest, almost violently, to make his point. She reluctantly returned the embrace, while he whined in her ear, "Why are you letting me down now, Hermione?"
She inhaled sharply before breaking the hug but caught his hand in hers. She wanted to see his face, not to let him feel abandoned when he finally asked for help.
"Of course, I will listen to everything you will tell me, Harry," she said tenderly. "And I will give you all I can, but that's not how psychological help works and I doubt it will be enough."
She lifted a hand to stop him from speaking. "No! You listen to me. There must be a distance, an emotional distance with your therapist to be able to talk about such intimate things..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "You tell them about emotions so powerful, often so shameful that months later, you may not wish to see them and remember that they know… And they need the emotional distance, too, sometimes even more than you do, to remain objective and not colour their approach with what they know about you or live with you."
"But Constanz is Severus's friend and he is his therapist. He was your therapist, too, and now he's your friend and your boss."
"My therapy was finished before I came to work with Alfred, and we only became friends when we got to know each other better in the work place," she pleaded, trying to make him understand. "As for Professor Snape, you know as well as I do that the MLE ordered him into therapy before he could be released from St Mungo's, and they wanted his mental state certified by our best expert, so they didn't give Alfred any choice either."
"But he did it and they're none the worse for it. They're friends!"
"Alfred did it, but with the greatest misgivings, and they're friends only because Professor Snape asked him after deciding to stop the therapy," she insisted, fast getting annoyed with Harry's stubbornness. "Honestly! What the MLE asked was totally unethical. Alfred told me several times it was one of the hardest things he's ever done, and he has more than seventy years' experience as a therapist!"
She gave Harry a poke in the ribs to drive her point home. "I'm still a trainee and I am practically your sister! Remember, I was hurting and getting slowly mad and yet, I could never tell you or Ron about the rape. And if I had ever broken down in front of you, you might have been able to comfort me for a time but you wouldn't have been able to help me get over it."
Harry pursed his lips, feeling it was somehow unfair that she would bring up how he had been so blind when she was assaulted and tortured to now refuse to heal him.
"Harry," she said softly, before he could think of an appropriate retort. "Consider this: most parents love their children and most siblings love each other... but if having a loving family or good friends were enough to solve all our personal problems, there would hardly be any use for therapists, and psychology wouldn't even exist."
"I won't see a therapist!"
"And you won't if you don't want to," she chided him gently. "I will offer you the attention and understanding of a friend and a sister. More I cannot do."
His gaze instantly softened. "And more I could not ask. You've always been there for me." He hugged her again, this time opening his arms to warn her of his intention and to give her time to step into them and hug back.
"I won't see a therapist ever again! What I can't tell you, I'll tell Severus." He stepped back and smiled brightly. "He understands everything," he added quite naively.
Hermione closed her eyes and mentally counted to twenty. Harry could not have chosen a worse time to inflict his anguish on Severus Snape, less than one month before his trial. She could not discourage him too openly, not when he had made such a huge step towards discussing his own issues, but Professor Snape deserved to think about himself.
She would make sure that Harry did not overstep the boundaries with his emotional demands and that the Professor found at least some measure of peace and quiet.
§§§
"Tell me something about my mother," Harry demanded. "I think I have been patient enough, haven't I?"
"You have your mother's eyes."
Harry glared, unsure if he was mocked at or if Snape was really so ill at ease that he could not find anything else to say.
"It's the first thing everyone who knew her tells me," he answered neutrally. "You're several years late for a revelation."
"And what was I supposed to do? Call you to my office and say," his voice turned a derisive falsetto, "Oh, by the way, Mr Potter, I used to be your mother's best friend. Let's be chums and when the Death Eaters learn about this, we can all be buried together."
Harry bit his lip, trying not to giggle. Instead of getting angry and nasty – as he would have done when Harry was his student – Snape often blurted out the most outrageous things. Hermione assured him that the Malfoys, too, had the same twisted sense of the ridiculous and, as he paid better attention when he had to meet them, Harry noticed that it was true. Coming from Snape, this was not just funny in a generally caustic way but also very comforting, as it meant that he now treated Harry as an equal.
Harry put a hand on his heart in a melodramatic gesture. "I believe I would have died of shock before the Death Eaters caught us."
"It's comforting to be understood," declared Snape, deadpan. "Fortunately for my survival, incidentally for yours, and for what Dumbledore asked me to do, you may have your mother's eyes, but as for the rest... You're just like your father."
Harry's face instantly clouded over. "And you punished me for that."
"No," stated Snape emphatically. "I punished you for being a liar and a rule breaker. The resemblance just helped me to do this more harshly, and without remorse."
"You are still calling me a liar?!" protested Harry.
"Are you saying it wasn't true?" Snape asked sharply. "How many times did I look into your eyes and your mind and see you lying through your teeth… That you hadn't sought out the troll... That you had no idea about the whereabouts of Sirius Black... Whatever I asked – you lied to me time and again! And I am not even speaking of the insults or the torments you wished on me. I remember a certain spider..."
Harry blushed a little as he remembered imagining Snape in the place of the unfortunate spider that the false Professor Moody had used for his Crucio demonstration... but his embarrassment quickly turned into righteous anger, "You used Legilimency on me? Without my knowledge?"
"For your own good," Snape sneered. "Just like Dumbledore did."
"Dumbledore?" parroted Harry.
"How do you think he gained his reputation for omniscience? Or manipulated people so easily?"
Harry shrugged. He could not say that he was that surprised but he was unwilling to let Snape's mind dwell on Dumbledore yet again. He said softly, "I'm sorry, you know."
This managed to surprise Snape. "What for?"
"For hating you. For my father being a bastard to you. For my mother not loving you."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Leave your parents alone… You should try to take responsibility for your own actions before discharging the responsibilities of others."
Harry raised both eyebrows. "Pot. Kettle..." He let his voice trail derisively.
Snape glared. "Don't you dare pity me, Potter, or I swear I'll pity you, too."
Harry chuckled and raised a hand in defeat. "I think we have a deal, sir."
"Stop calling me 'sir'!" added Snape petulantly. He felt somewhat exasperated that Potter was so accommodating that he had no excuse for losing his temper. There was also a growing, if grudging, respect for the young man who managed so cheerfully to cut the ground under his feet, and without any visible intention to score points against him.
"And what would you have me call you? You don't like me to call you Professor, either, and when I say Snape," Harry said, his voice dropping to a lower, sombre tone of voice, "it reminds me of Hogwarts and of the war."
"Leaves only Severus," Snape said with a faint sarcasm.
Harry flushed, feeling awkward that he had been so transparent but nodding eagerly before insisting, "And I want you to call me Harry, not Potter. You are telling me to leave the memory of my parents alone, but when you call me Potter, I always think you mean 'James'."
Snape shrugged. "I… will... try," he said, as though the words were pulled out of him.
"Thank you... Severus." Harry pronounced his name with relish and a blinding smile. He sobered almost instantly, though, and added wistfully, "I've been waiting to call you 'Severus' from the time I died and met my parents, Sirius and Remus. I expected to see you, too, and that you'd give me some unpleasant but useful advice about self-sacrifice."
"Impossible."
"I see that… Since you weren't dead."
"Anyway, you could only see the closest to your heart, certainly not a man you hated."
"Severus... I don't hate you." He was surprised to watch the shock on Snape's face, although the wizard managed to wipe it off almost instantly. "It's true!" he insisted. "I didn't hate you anymore after I came out of the Headmaster's Pensieve. How could I?!"
Snape actually smiled, though it was a very, very sad smile. "I'm just… It's still difficult for me to believe." He closed his eyes. "I find myself rather tired. I will go and rest a little, or Moppy will shop me to Healer Granger."
Not fooled, Harry watched him leave silently, wondering what he had said to hurt him again.
§§§
Severus closed his eyes and put a hand on his heart, as if this could tame its beating. He could not do it in front of… Harry. Harry. He would have to get used to calling him that.
Lily had gazed at him so sadly. "Not that I'm not grateful," she had said hesitantly before adding in a breath, "but… I can't," and then more forcefully, "I won't."
He had stepped back, knowing it would be more dignified to just Apparate away, but his heart and mind were screaming at him for a little more time – just another look, before she turns away in disgust and returns to her husband… Before you lose her forever… And he very nearly stumbled over something as she walked up to him, grabbed both his arms and began to shake him with a fond, exasperated look. "You don't understand because you're not a parent, but… you must believe me, Sev..." She had looked him in the eyes, and he could see they were brimming with tears.
He bit his lip but could not hold back a small whimper at this memory – the last time he saw his love.
He had embraced her with all his might, as if this could hold his own tears back, and although he must have crushed her, she had fervently returned it.
"I don't hate you, Sev. Do you hear me?" she asked in an unsteady voice. "I don't hate you. I just can't. Not you. Not my Sev."
She knew him so well. To the end, she had been the one who gave. She did not tell him that she loved him when she was married to another. She did not tell him that she forgave him for offering her life by letting her child die. She had just stepped into his arms for the first time in years, to soothe him and to give him solace: I don't hate you.
How could he not love such a woman?
And yet, incredible as it seemed... Now that he could look Potter – Harry – openly in the eyes and see more and more of Lily in him, he could hardly summon Lily's face to his mind without the help of a photograph. He still loved her, and he always would, but the memories that he had used since Dumbledore's death did not evoke more now than fond feelings and the bittersweet nostalgia of first love.
He did not really like the idea that he was moving on, but Lily deserved better from him than to be used as an incentive stick to carry out his abhorrent mission or as a substitute for real life. Not that it worked so well to begin with. Yes, they both deserved better.
He almost laughed aloud, thinking that Alfred would be proud of him if he were here. He grabbed the glass of water on his night stand and raised it in a sarcastic toast to himself. Toa brighter future, I suppose.Or, at least, to living without emotional crutches.
Champagne would make for a grander – and tastier – gesture, but Moppy would have a fit if he asked for some, and it would be so sad to drink without Lucius or Minerva.
Fortunately, he still had Minerva.
But it was another face that came to his mind. The face of a young woman, passionate in her questioning, her arguing and even her nagging him into taking care of himself.
Why was he suddenly thinking about Hermione Granger?
Yes, she was a surprisingly pleasant and intellectually stimulating company, but she was too young, too idealist… He would probably never see her again after the trial.
Maybe in this case, it was for the better. To see her as a Weasley bride, her ambitions and brightness slowly quenched by the triviality of housework and child-rearing…
He shuddered and drained his glass, jeering at himself for his absurdity.
Hermione Granger.
Rubbish!
§§§
"Your grandparents Evans were really decent people. They always made me feel welcome and they never judged me. Your grandmother used to spoil me whenever she could and your grandfather always explained patiently when he was doing odd jobs and he let us help." He made a face. "I can't say the same of Petunia. She always made me feel like I was some creepy-crawly creature and she would gladly squash me under her foot."
"She never lost her touch," muttered Harry bitterly. "When I was a very young child, I thought that if my parents had loved me, really loved me, they wouldn't have died and left me at Privet Drive with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."
He looked inside his mug, as if the warm cocoa in it held answers. He sighed. "I believed that little freaks like me didn't deserve to have loving parents."
He automatically looked up but only read in Snape's eyes the sad understanding and sympathy of one lost, neglected boy for another just like him.
For a very long time, Harry had been terrified that the only person who seemed to have a childhood as rotten as his was Tom Riddle. To acknowledge this aloud would somehow have been like admitting that he was himself a hair's breadth from becoming like Riddle... Like the obsessed psychopath who had marked him as his equal.
Equal. They were equal. Same story… Same kind of wand... Same mind? This last thought was too much for Harry, who had spent the two years between Sirius' death and the last Battle oscillating between aggression and depression... denial and rebellion... because the sad truth was that he would die in the war… either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.
At times, death did not seem that bad. He loathed it when he could feel Voldemort through his scar, not only because of the horrors he saw but because it meant that they were one. They somehow balanced each other, like the two sides of an arch vault. If one fell, the other would topple... And if he somehow managed to kill Voldemort, would he not, in his turn, topple into the same madness, darkness and evil?
With such fears gnawing at him, Snape's memories had been for Harry more than the gift of Victory. They had been the gift of Life. The gift of knowing that another had been despised, abused, exploited and tempted by power and darkness, but had turned his back on it. Love, even unfulfilled one like Snape's love for Lily, could really make you surpass yourself and vanquish everything – even the Dark Lords with delusions of immortality.
Because of Snape's memories, it had all made sense at last and gave him the hope that the rest of the prophecy was true enough. He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.
Harry had emerged a victor from the headmaster's Pensieve. A terrified martyr, but a victor. He had been able to walk to his death, not only because there was no other choice but because he knew that if Snape managed to remain true to himself even when he had to commit the most despicable acts, he could resist losing his own self to Voldemort's darkness.
He released the great breath he had not realised he had been holding. Snape had stood and turned away, his face inscrutable again.
Harry wanted to throw himself into Snape's arms, to be held, to open his mind for him to explore and confirm that he was clean, sound in body and mind.
"Severus," he called, pleading. Don't shut me out.
Snape's wary eyes searched his face and he nodded for the young man to go on. Snape rarely offered an opinion but he always listened, even when things were hard to voice.
"I know it was selfish of me... but I couldn't help it. I thought... Even after I learned the truth about their death, I thought that they should have been more cautious." He worried at his lip, waiting for Severus to cut him off and protest, but he did not. "My father... I suppose it's somehow expected that a man will be a hero and defend his family, but my mum... I..." He gasped out, "I couldn't help feeling that good mothers do not die and leave their son alone."
There was no answer, as Snape's eyes were out of focus and looking far, far away.
"It wasn't until I marched to my death... When I met her and my Dad that I felt... loved. Loved, at last." There was a noise of someone choking, and he realised it was himself. "It was so brief."
He avoided looking at Snape again because he did not want to know what the man felt – the man who had loved his mother. Right now, he knew he could not face the disappointment of Snape's indifference or disdain.
In the end, he could almost taste the silence between them, so thick it felt... so full of angst.
Suddenly, he realised he was the one out of focus and that Snape had moved and was standing right in front of him.
"There was no one in the whole world that she loved more than you," declared Snape. "No one."
"That's what everyone says," Harry whispered sadly, "because she died for me."
"She knew she was going to die for you."
Harry's head shot up and he met Snape's burning gaze. "She chose it," the other insisted. "Days before the Dark Lord's attack. She chose you."
"What do you mean," gasped Harry.
"I told her about the prophecy... that I had messed up and then asked the Dark Lord to spare her. For me."
Harry's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. "But I thought..." Regaining his senses, he demanded, "How? When? Why?"
Snape's lips twitched in a bitter smile. "I sent her a message asking for an urgent meeting as soon as I left Voldemort, after he promised to try and spare her as a gift for me."
"Because you didn't believe him."
"I believed him all too well." He shook his head at his youthful delusions. "But I could not imagine Lily staying out of the way and doing nothing. I wanted her to know and to choose..." his voice trailed off rather hoarsely. "To choose me, of course."
"But you were not on speaking terms. She never forgave you..." Harry trailed off, once again feeling foolish. He had never understood how his mother, whom everyone described as kind, empathetic and able to see the best in people, could not forgive her best friend Severus for the insult uttered under the worst kind of pressure.
"She was my best friend" Snape said, with a strange emphasis and a wry smile. "Of course, she forgave me… After a time, of course... but the summer break is a very long time for teenagers."
"I had no idea," blurted Harry.
"How could you have?" Snape sneered, defensively more than anything else. "Be that as it may, she said that there had to be something she could do to protect you. That she would have to research blood magic."
"So, Dumbledore was right? She used her love to save me?"
"I don't know any more than you do, except that she had Dumbledore send her all the books on blood magic he could find. I don't think he knew what she did either, but it certainly gave him the idea of the blood wards at Petunia's." He paused, his face darkening again. "I was so desperate that my next message was to Dumbledore. He sent me a single Portkey to a meeting place of his own choosing and asked me what I was willing to give him to protect Lily and her family."
"Anything," Harry whispered, "You offered him anything he wanted. If this isn't love..."
Snape was so uneasy he was practically squirming. He cut Harry off, "Well, you know the rest." He shrugged self-consciously. "I'm sure you understand why I wouldn't want to broadcast it to the world, but I'm afraid they will ask me during my trial and I wouldn't want you to learn about it then."
"They may not ask," said Harry consolingly but without conviction.
Snape shook his head. "You told me old Ultima Warbeck will head the War court. She will ask, and people will know."
"Yes," admitted Harry unhappily. "She's almost as scary as Alexia Yaxley… But Kingsley tells me she's fair, and we will win, Severus!" He grasped Snape's shoulders and repeated, "We will win. People will know that you did it for love and that you saved us all. We will win."
Snape made a face and turned his head away.
§§§
Healer Granger was clearly a witch with a mission as she hurried along the corridors of St Mungo's, barely acknowledging those who saluted her.
She entered a small meeting room, carefully closing the door. She cast Muffliato and turned to the single portrait which adorned the opposite wall. The occupant was sleeping, as could be expected. Hermione absently noted that the woman was much younger than in her Hogwarts portrait.
"Headmistress!" she called several times, each time a little louder.
Dilys Agripina Derwent, Chief Healer (1715 – 1740) woke up with a start and blinked a little owlishly at first.
"We're in St Mungo's and you're a healer now, young lady," she said amiably. "No need to call me Headmistress... even if it has certainly not been very long since you left Hogwarts yourself? Your face looks familiar."
"Indeed. My name is Hermione Granger...-"
"Oh!" interrupted the Headmistress. "Of course! You're Phineas's little friend!"
"Err... We had a few conversations during the war, but I don't think..."
"Yes, yes! He quite likes you. I didn't recognise you at first because of your hair. You used to be rather..." She made a gesture like an inflated balloon around her head with both hands and chuckled good-naturedly. "This short style suits you. I wish I could have got away with something like this in my time."
Hermione smiled. Dilys Derwent was obviously very spontaneous.
"What can I do for you, dear?"
"I need information about something that happened at Hogwarts before and during the last war, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to seek you out there. I don't exactly trust the discretion of the other portraits."
The headmistress gave her a shrewd glance. "The other portraits or one portrait in particular?"
Hermione inhaled sharply and confirmed, "Albus Dumbledore."
"What's he done now?" asked Dilys Derwent, instantly stiffening.
"I would like information about something he might have said or done in the past to Professor Snape."
The Headmistress stated, with considerable rancour, "You should rather ask what he did not do to Severus!"
"You know Professor Snape's trial is coming soon?"
"Yes. How is he doing?" she asked with great concern. "I used to catch little snatches of information here and there when he was still in St Mungo's, but now…"
"He has mended much better than we hoped," Hermione hastened to say. "Physically as well as mentally."
Dilys Derwent let out a strained breath, as if she had been holding it in for a long time. "But?" she asked. "There has to be a 'but' if you're here to see me."
"You know my friend, Harry Potter?"
"Yes. He…" she paused, obviously trying to gauge how straightforward she could afford to be with her young colleague, before shrugging slightly. "He's always had a rather unhealthy fixation with Severus. He's gone from an absolute dislike to a kind of remorseful veneration, when he used Minerva's Pensieve just after the war, but he still appears quite obsessed, in my opinion. I hope…" she let her voice trail.
"They're staying together until the trial, since Harry is in charge of Professor Snape's protection."
Dilys Derwent made a face, clearly showing her doubts about such an arrangement. Hermione pulled a face of her own. "I agree with you it's not the best of solutions, but it works... most days. They have actually begun to mend their fences."
"I'm glad to hear this." The tone remained doubtful.
"Unfortunately, Harry has become quite... needy of late, with all the revelations Professor Snape keeps making about the war. You must know they spend a considerable time comparing notes about Professor Dumbledore and how he treated them." She pursed her lips, in an unconscious display of annoyance. "And this is what brings me here today."
The headmistress nodded soberly, raising a hand to urge Hermione to go on. "What do you want to know?"
"Professor Snape has told Harry several times now that all the sacrifices he made in the war, all he had to suffer was necessary for him to atone for joining the Death Eaters and causing the death of Harry's parents."
"Now that you're training with Constanz, I suppose you know this is a rather common reaction to violent trauma."
"The survivor's guilt," Hermione breathed. "I know. Although it seems to me that Professor Dumbledore went too far and we are not dealing with an 'ordinary' kind of guilt."
"Dumbledore always used to guilt-trip Severus when he rebelled against his most outrageous demands," Dilys said harshly. "The worst part is that, however ruthless his moral manipulations could be, Dumbledore seemed convinced that he was acting in Severus's best interest. So, he carried a power of conviction that Severus could never resist for very long, since he wrestled with his own demons."
"I surmised as much," stated Hermione, although without any pleasure at being right. "We've suspected for some time that Professor Snape doesn't invest himself in the preparation of his trial as he should, although Constanz is positive there's nothing that would point at any suicidal tendencies."
Dilys nodded approvingly. "I watched him, too, when he was Headmaster, but he never struck me as suicidal, even then. Resigned to his fate, for sure, but there was always an undercurrent of pride and determination in all his acts."
"However, we've finally learned that he thinks he really missed his opportunity when he didn't die."
"What?!"
"He realised before the Battle of Hogwarts that Dumbledore may not have had all his faculties intact when he devised his last plans for the war." Hermione shrugged helplessly. "But he acts as if he still must go through the punishment and agony to get even with fate… or the wizarding world, or maybe Dumbledore himself!" She began to pace nervously, unable to stand still as she tried to share her fears. "He's suggested several times that it would be better for all of us to withdraw and let him face the War High Court on his own."
Dilys raised her eyes heavenwards and shook her head. "Oh Severus..."
"Only yesterday, he told Harry that, having failed to die as was expected of him, his next best option may be to take all the blame on himself." Hermione mumbled to herself, in pure frustration. Dilys caught snatches of something that sounded suspiciously like "stubborn as a mule". At last, the younger woman reined in her temper and declared, "I think Dumbledore's somehow managed to convince him that his soul is as damaged as Voldemort's was and that extreme expiation is required to balance what he thinks are his evil deeds."
She could not help raising her voice, inflamed at the memory of their last argument. "You would think he could see the difference between a serial murderer who had voluntarily torn his soul into pieces to create Horcruxes, and what he had to do because of the war... but no! Even when he tries to be positive, he's only agreeing to… to indulge me!" She threw her arms up in the air. "I can see that he doesn't believe it deep down... because he's still convinced that what he does is never enough… That it will never be enough!" she groaned in frustration. "How can I make him see…!"
"I know!" cried Dilys, just as affected as her young colleague. "When he was Headmaster, we used to talk… just the two of us," she specified, "because he never liked to show weakness in front of others… But he needed to confide in someone, or he would break…" She inhaled deeply, to keep her own anger and fear at bay. "He told me that he would not sit for his Headmaster' s portrait because he was sure Dumbledore's death had damaged his soul beyond repair, and that it would be unseemly for anything of himself to survive…"
She paused and was oddly comforted to hear Hermione echo her own sigh. "He's convinced that Dumbledore asked him to finish him off because he already knew that there was nothing left of his soul worth saving… Which was not what Dumbledore meant," she groused, "but the old idiot never stopped to consider that he was pushing Severus too hard. He was always so sure that Severus would always bend but never break. That he knew best…!" she growled.
She shook her head again, before looking up at Hermione with a haunted look. "Of course, Dumbledore was only a shadow of himself when he pestered Severus to put an end to his suffering. In private, he was quite obsessed with his coming death but also confused by whatever Dark magic was coursing in his blood… None of you could see it," she said in a whisper, as if speaking to herself more than to Hermione, "not even Severus, because he was consumed with his own worries and because Dumbledore was such a good actor." She sighed again. "Besides, we couldn't say anything because he was still Headmaster of Hogwarts and we were forbidden to even hint at it."
Hermione was sadly disappointed. "I hoped you would tell me that Professor Dumbledore used an oath or something like this to force Professor Snape to obey him – something that we could reverse now that the war's over."
Dilys shook her head again. "I'm sorry. I'd like it as much as you do that there had been an easier way to help Severus, but whatever his faults, Dumbledore would never have stooped so low. The sad truth is that practically everything in Severus's personal history was bound to make him prey to master manipulators like Tom Riddle or Albus Dumbledore."
"I know, but it is so unfair."
"Severus himself would tell you that life is unfair."
"He would!" acknowledged Hermione wryly. She could practically hear him snorting at what he would call her Gryffindor sentimentality, if she tried again to tell him that he owed it to himself and to all his supporters to give his best effort to clear himself before the War High Court. "I absolutely refuse to be your new cause, Granger!" he had said the last time she tried, with the glare that did not frighten her anymore. "Go waste your pity on someone else. I hear the Wizarding Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is recruiting."
"Severus is quite biased about what most people would take as a sign of interest. He easily mistakes compassion for pity," Dilys said, drawing another telling sigh from Hermione.
"He's rather prickly, yes," interjected the young healer with feeling. "But he has so many reasons to be so... Well, I'd just like him to see that I only have his best interests at heart, just like you do. I wish he could see me as a friend, not just as an ex-student who plays at being a healer," she added wistfully.
"Did he actually say this?"
"Of course not!" protested Hermione, immediately ready to champion Snape. "He's surprisingly helpful whenever I ask him something, without going into the teacher mode or making me feel like I'm imposing. He's the only one who made the effort to explain about the house elves rather than making fun of me or treating me like an idiot. I really enjoy talking to him… even if we argue a lot."
"It's impossible to talk with Severus without arguing at one time or another," joked Dilys.
"It is, isn't it?" They both chuckled.
"Even so," sighed Hermione, "I know it must be trying for him to be surrounded by the former students who used to distrust him. We all try to make amends but..." She shook her head despondently.
"Patience is all I can suggest," commiserated the Headmistress. "Severus is very suspicious because he was betrayed so awfully by the people he most loved or admired that he has no faith left in his own judgement when it comes to relationships or feelings… But if you're willing to prove yourself to him, you'll find that he's worth it."
"I know he's worth it!" cried Hermione. "It breaks my heart to see him so ashamed of all the courageous things he did during the war. It's us who ought to be ashamed that we did not believe in him!"
Dilys could not help smiling at Hermione's impassioned defence of Severus. The young healer clearly felt as much admiration as friendship for Severus... and her feelings were obviously growing into more than friendship.
The headmistress did not know how Severus himself felt about Hermione, but from a few things the young woman said, Dilys thought that he was uncharacteristically friendly with her and saw her as an equal, not as a former student.
After all, his personal history proved that he was rather partial to intelligent Gryffindor women.
Hermione interrupted her musings. "Could you tell me at least if Dumbledore's theories about atonement and redemption have any real magical basis, or if they are just… Frankly, it all sounds like some half-digested Christianity … like those medieval Flagellants who believed they would be saved if they tortured and mortified themselves..." Hermione could not hide the disgust in her voice. "But I have been wrong before with things like prophecies or divination, and this might be just my ignorance or my muggle background showing."
"Ah, but you're right. Dumbledore used his own religious beliefs in his calculations. There is, of course, no real evidence of what a soul really is or why things like a Horcrux or the Dementor's Kiss really work. All we have are mere speculations, drawn from people' s hopes, fears and various religious beliefs about what awaits us in the afterlife." She chuckled, "Even I can't know how I am still living within this portrait. All I have is the conviction that I think, therefore I am."
"Are you telling me that there is no actual foundation for the theory that absolute remorse and repentance could heal a fractured soul?" insisted Hermione.
"Nothing but personal convictions and obscure testimonies from the antiquity. Really, Hermione! Nobody has ever proved that a soul can actually be fractured. The mind, yes. As a healer, you will have to deal with fractured personalities... But we know nothing of the soul, and Dumbledore didn't either." She shrugged. "I never managed to read his equations in their entirety. All I know about them is what I heard Severus discuss with him. If they had not been accurate, Severus would not have been persuaded to carry out Dumbledore's plans to the end… But you know as well as I do that you choose the parameters and hypotheses that you put into your Arithmancic equations, and that's why it is considered a kind of divination as much as a proper science."
"So, the results only reflected the hypothesis based on which Dumbledore chose to work," concluded Hermione with a sombre satisfaction. "Just as I thought. Nothing proves that there was no other option."
The two witches shared meaningful looks, both being very suspicious where Albus Dumbledore's intellectual honesty was concerned.
"Severus was not totally fooled by Dumbledore," Dilys added, "but every time he tried to suggest other variables and hypotheses, Dumbledore dismissed them by telling him that he had already tried them and they did not work out. However, I can't tell if this was true, because I never saw him actually working on his equations. Phineas knows a little more because he could see him at Grimmauld Place. He always said it was all delusions, make-believe and hypocrisy... but as he never liked Dumbledore, I must admit he's very biased."
"What I don't understand is why Professor Dumbledore was so focused on… repentance," Hermione said like it was a dirty word.
"The only thing I know is that he was a rather tortured man. He didn't talk much about the things that were not Hogwarts business, so it was difficult to know what he thought but he was not such a cheerful man in private. I suppose he carried enough of his own guilt or remorse that he needed to think there was something he could do about it."
"It's rather strange to hear this about Professor Dumbeldore."
"He may have been able to fool people with his eccentricity, his smiles and his puns, but he was a deeply lonely man. He never allowed himself to have a private life after Grindelwald."
"Ah!" interjected Hermione. "The death of his sister."
"You know about Ariana?"
"There is this book by Rita Skeeter… Although I know it should be taken with more than a pinch of salt...-"
Dilys's smile was practically feral. "From what I hear, she has her facts completely right, for once, even with her nasty point of view. Dumbledore never had any significant relationship after he became a teacher and then a headmaster. We would have known."
"That's rather sad," Hermione said, always ready to sympathise with others. "And it may explain a lot."
"Explain, maybe," Dilys said sternly, all her earlier friendliness vanished as her lips thinned into a white, angry line. "But never excuse. You haven't watched him play with Severus's sincere feelings for years like we did."
Hermione instantly forgot all thoughts of forgiveness.
"He liked Severus, yes," spat Dilys, "but grudgingly… And once Harry Potter came to Hogwarts and he knew he would soon have to rely almost entirely on Severus against Voldemort… He seemed to never stop pushing Severus's guilt button, as if he could not trust his own trust in the man but needed to see him yield completely." She exhaled deeply, trying to cool down. "And yet, I can't help feeling sorry for old Albus, too. In his last months, the only personal interactions he allowed himself to have were with Severus, and with your friend Harry."
"You can't be serious!" Hermione interrupted her, once again. "Professor Dumbledore never went beyond very superficial discussions with Harry, and his actions surely prove that he never truly cared for him. When I think how he left Harry with his hateful aunt and set him up to die at the end... Or what he made poor Professor Snape do without giving him the least hope that he might be able to survive."
"You know," interrupted Dilys, "you really should call him Severus."
This was so unexpected that Hermione started."I wouldn't dare!" she blurted.
"Even to help him heal from the years he had to sacrifice to Dumbledore and to Hogwarts?" Dilys asked bluntly. "It was never his choice to be a teacher, or a headmaster." She smiled kindly, as if trying to coax a reluctant child.
"I'd do anything to help him!" exclaimed Hermione, before blushing a little as she realised she may have been a little too eager. It was rather self-consciously that she added, more sensibly, "But I don't know how he would take that kind of familiarity from a former student who is so much younger and who has so little experience."
"There is that," stated the Headmistress very seriously, while inwardly chuckling as she remembered how Severus used to dismiss Minerva's qualms about their age difference as pure rubbish. "You could suggest that it makes you uneasy to be called Healer Granger all the time when you're not at St Mungo's and ask him as a favour that he calls you Hermione. He will feel bound to offer you the same."
Hermione found herself instantly fantasising about Snape's lips carefully enunciating her name. "Her-my-o-nee."
She heard him say it in her mind, making her glad for the first time that her parents had inflicted on her such a complicated name as he pronounced it – oh so slowly – carefully testing and tasting it.
"Hermione!"
She blinked, as if waking up from a dream. Headmistress Derwent was observing her, a knowing little smile flowering at the corner of her mouth.
Her cheeks suddenly heating up, Hermione could not help asking, "Do you think this will work?"
"It worked very well with Marcus Derwent," affirmed Dilys happily. "My husband, in case you wondered. And more recently, with Phineas Nigellus Black," she added with a saucy wink. "I don't think Severus could be a harder nut to crack than Phineas…"
Watching Hermione's jaw fall open, she added, a little too virtuously to be honest, "Not that I suggest that you would want to seduce Severus, of course… but these Slytherins like to be encouraged a little.' She bent forward and said conspiratorially, "All men are a little vulnerable in matters of the heart, but Slytherins are very, very proud. They need to be sure their attentions will be welcomed before making a move, but they will reward you by being so intense and affectionate..."
"I… I…" Hermione blinked several times, to clear her mind. "This is not what I meant. I am not planning to seduce Sev… Professor Snape." The Headmistress looked slightly incredulous, and she did not want to discuss this highly sensitive subject. So, she asked, "But really? You and Phineas Black?"
Dilys shrugged. "Eternity is a very long time to spend alone, my dear… Phineas's wife was a selfish shrew who was only too happy to remind him that they married only until Death did part them, and my own husband did not find it essential to spend good money on a wakeful portrait during his life." She pursed her lips unhappily. "The sad outcome is that I have very little left in common with his mere likeness, because it gets old very quickly to talk about the same thing all the time. He certainly remembers that I was his wife but… I need at least a little... intellectual stimulation... before being in the mood…" She sniffed disdainfully. "I'm not a brainless bimbo, and certainly not for the mere shadow of a great man."
Hermione was practically crimson with embarrassment, which only made Dilys chuckle. "And in spite of his pretending to be above human foibles," she went on, "Phineas is as sensitive as he's witty. We are very well suited, even if I say so myself."
Hermione emitted a strange sound, between a scandalised gasp and a repressed laugh. She put her hand on her mouth. "I'm sorry," she babbled. "I never thought…"
"Of course, you didn't. You're much too young for this but remember what I tell you: our portraits are our chance to transcend time and separation. You should consider hiring a good painter for yourself." She pointed her index finger at Hermione. "But before that, you should consider how well suited you and Severus would be together."
"No, no..." protested Hermione, a little feebly.
"Yes, yes," countered Dilys cheerfully. "You would be perfect for each other."
Hermione straightened, although with difficulty, and cleared her throat. "It's the first time someone's tried to play matchmaker with me. I thank you but…"
"Bah!" interrupted Dilys Derwent. "I think you just never noticed before."
"Well," answered Hermione honestly, though unable to remember how the discussion had taken this turn. "My friends often try to set me up with one boy or another but..."
The Headmistress cut her again. "But being boys", she said with great disdain, "they never have a chance with you. You need a man. Someone mature. Reliable… Faithful, too, because it is much more important in a relationship that most of your generation believe. Intelligent, too, of course... A man who won't feel threatened by your brilliance because he knows his own worth without being too pretentious."
Hermione felt herself nodding almost against her will.
"And preferably, one who is not too selfish to learn how best to pleasure you." Hermione nearly choked but nothing could stop Dilys now. "In a word, someone like Severus."
"Headmistress..."
"No, no! You must call me Dilys."
"I… Dilys… I am not looking for a man!"
"Maybe not right now, with your apprenticeship, but even if being a healer is a very fulfilling career, let me tell you it is not your career that will keep you warm and happy at night."
Hermione tried to blink back the bitter tears that suddenly filled her eyes. She wished she could leave but she did not want to hurt or offend Dilys. She liked the older witch and could not blame her for her own failings.
"Dilys! I can't be with a man!" She let herself fall into a chair and pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Not Severus nor anyone else… I… I just can't. I can't!" She was aware that her voice was steadily growing hysterical. Unable to calm down or to explain, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry helplessly.
"Hermione! Have you… Err..." Dilys looked stricken and for the first time seemed to be lost for words. "You're Muggleborn and… err… I've heard what those Snatchers did during the war… Have they… Have you been…?" Hermione nodded, still hiding behind her hands.
"Oh!" exclaimed Dilys, inwardly cursing herself for triggering the reaction. "The bastards!" Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting the Headmistress's sympathetic gaze. She was surprised, however, to hear her exclaim, "Now I understand what Phineas meant! He must have known what happened to you."
Hermione's mind went blank. "What?" she burst out. "He… he knows?"
Dilys shrugged apologetically. "He must have heard something at Grimmauld Place… Probably your friends discussing what happened to you while he was within earshot, because he grilled me about the available therapies and medicines to help the poor girls who had been raped, tortured and lost the ability to have children. He spoke generally but he clearly had someone in mind and I have rarely seen him so distressed. It must have been about you."
"I… But he always called me a Mudblood!"
"Hermione! In his time, as in mine, Mudblood didn't have the same extreme connotations it has now… And you know he always needs to pretend he doesn't care for anyone or anything. He's as fond and proud of you as of his favourite grand-daughter... and that's saying something!"
Hermione wanted to believe Dilys but she could not help feeling upset and embarrassed that the prudish Phineas Black must have heard Harry and Ron talk about her having been raped and tortured.
"Whatever," said Dilys. "The only important thing is that you can have a long, happy and fulfilling life."
"I know, but I don't need a man in my life. In fact, I have no use for a man at all. Or a woman." She blushed, remembering how Parvati had tried to set her up with a friend of hers.
"Rubbish! You have healed physically. You know you're on the way to healing psychologically, too or you wouldn't be able to become a therapist yourself. There's no reason you couldn't enjoy a loving and physical relationship in the future. I never meant to rush you into anything with Severus or with anyone else. I was just nudging you a little..." She cleared her throat under Hermione's incredulous stare. "Well, maybe more than a little. We are like that in Hufflepuff... always eager to help. Anyway, I'd be very surprised if Severus was ready for more than a harmless flirtation himself. Just don't close the door to something that could make you both grow more than you can imagine."
"I know you mean well," Hermione said rather stiffly, dabbing at her eyes. "I don't normally care when people make innuendos about my love life, but I'd rather we change the subject."
"Oh Hermione, please forgive an old witch who would like to see a wonderful young woman like you happy… And my poor Severus, too. My only excuse is that I care, even if I've been out of line. She raised her hands and fidgeted, as if she wanted to walk out of her portrait and hug Hermione.
Hermione stood up and put her hand on the portrait. Dilys smiled tenderly and pressed her hand at the same spot. Neither could actually feel the other, of course, but it was still very heart-warming.
After a time, Dilys said, contritely, "Phineas will be furious with me when he hears how I've distressed you."
Hermione could not help a watery chuckle at the thought of Phineas Black. "Tell him that I forgive you."
"As if this would stop him! What I will not hear about my impulsiveness, or about foolish Hufflepuffs who should know better than force help on people and be even more tactless than Gryffindors!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalised.
"You can expect a serious talk with Phineas when you next manage to spend the evening at Grimmauld Place. He misses you and complains that you never have time for more than a few words in passing. It would be very kind of you to spend some time with him."
Hermione melted. "I miss him too. Tell him that I promise to spend an evening with him quite soon."
Dilys nodded, looking very gratified.
Phineas would mock her, as usual, and tell her that she was a rogue, but he would be so happy at the prospect of catching up with Hermione.
She was sure that he would also come to realise that Hermione and Severus would be a very good match, and that he would consent, albeit reluctantly, to help.
TBC
My heartfelt thanks to my beta Tra8erse who knows how to polish my words into something much more sparkling.