30 DAYS, A MARRIAGE

by Lady Memory

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of J.K. Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

Many thanks to my very patient readers and reviewers.

35 – Is It So Difficult To Understand?

Hermione felt a twinge of pain inside. Everything had ended, but in such a discouraging way! Yet they were all alive, and that was still an amazing sensation after the ordeal they had endured… At least, she should be happy to leave that horrid house… but no, even that thought wasn't a comforting one. Strange how only a few days before she was craving to go back to Hogwarts, and now that prospect had become absolutely intolerable!

The girl looked at Snape. His nose was swollen and bluish, and he was breathing with evident difficulty. But his whole face was a mess of bruises and cuts… Yet he had refused Dumbledore's help. How to heal his wounds and, above all, his spirit?

Another glance at his exhausted expression put an end to her musing: he needed a proper medication and a good rest. Talking would come later. Now they must go back as soon as possible.

"I will be ready to leave in a few moments…" Hermione announced, though her heart was rebelling at the idea.

"Yes, get ready," Snape replied bitterly. "It's time to go home. To a real home. Not the hovel in which you have been forced to stay all these days."

The girl froze. He had heard. She mentally cursed Ron and his big mouth.

"I apologise for Mr. Weasley," she declared quietly, and the desire to soothe him compelled her to continue. "He couldn't know what you-"

"I don't need your apologies!" Snape replied sharply. "He is your friend, and you will always find a way to justify him. Exactly as you did for Lupin."

"But you promised that we too would be friends in a happier time," Hermione reminded him, hoping that he could feel the longing in her voice. "Hasn't that moment arrived?"

He sneered. "What an unusual idea of a happier time you have!"

Ah! So he had already recovered his nasty façade, even before reaching Hogwarts. Many contrasting feelings rose and merged in her heart, coalescing into anger. Anger against the world, against Voldemort, against professor Dumbledore, against everything and everybody. She too had been deceived and hurt! If that was what Harry was going to pay to be the Chosen One, well, no wonder that he was constantly ready to react heatedly and behave irresponsibly.

However, discussing was useless… Everything was useless at that point!

Hermione inhaled and murmured wearily, "I'll go and prepare my bag, then."

"Can't wait to rejoin your friends, can you? Well, pack your things and make sure you don't forget anything!" he snapped, wiping his cheek and sombrely considering the blood that had stained his fingers again. "Coming back here isn't an option. What you forget is lost."

Wordlessly, the girl went back to her room and began to organize her things. Streams of emotions lit inside her mind like bolts in a storm, growing more and more vivid while she piled her clothes on the decaying bed, checked the ugly wardrobe that seemed to look back desolately at her as if apologising for its bad aspect, inspected the drawers of the blasted desk - empty since the beginning of her stay except for the damned envelope in those last days – and finally turned to stare at the stupid shelf, where the silly romances had been patiently waiting to be read.

Those idiotic books! Her only comfort for so many hours! Days spent in apprehension while everything had been a fake! Wouldn't it have been a pleasure if she had been allowed to throw them all into the fireplace so that they could reach Voldemort, wherever he was?

Let him read and be saved by the power of love, Hermione thought, darkly enjoying the idea of a small cascade of volumes landing directly on the Dark Lord's head…

Then her gaze suddenly noticed that book, and her heart twisted again.

That one… That one was different. It was his book, and she couldn't give up on that memory too… it had been so good, it had felt so good, so sweet, so comforting…

Feeling the tears prickle again but blinking them back ferociously, the girl sat on the bed and took the book in her hands. Slowly, she opened it, casting a distracted glance at the magnificent words that had comforted her so many times in those painful days. And slowly, as if animated by an inner life, the pages began to turn until they reached a precise point. Hermione frowned, remembering the bookmark he had inserted that night and feeling irritation rise again: as predicted, that thick wedge had left a demarcation, and now the pages would always open there.

And suddenly, she remembered how insistently Severus had asked for that book in the last days: why had he been so engrossed? What had he found inside it? What had he read?

Curiosity defeated temper, and she bent over the volume. The page in front of her was glowing faintly at the light of the candles.

"Verses of Love and Joy" was the heading on its upper margins and, shining in glorious beauty, the title of the poem was written immediately below.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…"

From the mist of the time, the gentle voice of Elizabeth Barrett-Browning spoke to the agitated heart of the girl reading in a trance.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

The whole poem had been marked with a thin red line that had been reinforced two or three times in a nervous circle around the last verses.

But, much more astounding, two small red letters signed that touching declaration.

S.S.

Severus Snape.

…

Hermione frowned. That was strange. Unusual. Professor Snape wouldn't intentionally scribble on a book that wasn't his own property. So, what was the meaning of that? Was it a message or a wish… or perhaps the memory of a past love?

She felt a pang of jealousy at this possibility, and the words that Voldemort had addressed to Severus resounded in her mind.

"You've always had a penchant for Muggle-born women…"

With many confusing ideas floating in her mind and many confused emotions clashing in her heart, the girl rose from her bed. Holding carefully the book in her hands, she entered the living room with a soft, composed pace.

Snape was still standing there, but his eyes were now immensely sad. As soon as she appeared under the doorframe, he turned his head towards her, looking deeply uncomfortable.

"Miss Granger," he began with a clearly apologetic tone. Then he stopped to watch her better, and his tone changed into an alarmed one. "Miss Granger! Is everything well with you?"

Slowly, she shook her head and raised the book, showing him the poem.

"I've just found this."

The man glanced at the page, and his eyes widened in something similar to panic. He had evidently forgotten after the ordeal he had undergone, and now he looked dumbstruck.

Hermione tilted her head. "What does this mean?"

Snape blushed, looking even more embarrassed; then, as always, he took shelter in his pride.

He cleared his throat. "Ah, nothing, just a… a mistake. I acted on impulse. I was going to rub it out before you noticed, but then that young idiot arrived, and... and there was no time to do anything anymore…"

"So, this is not a message?"

His lips twitched while Severus seemed to weigh a reply. Then he answered curtly, "No."

"No?" Hermione considered softly. "How sad…"

And she lowered the book with a sigh, staring blankly at the floor.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she perceived the anxiety in his voice.

"I mean what I just said. 'How sad'."

Hermione paused, and Severus took a step forward. She raised her head to look at him. "I had hoped…"

"You had hoped…" he repeated with a questioning intonation, taking another step and watching her with mesmerised eyes.

She returned his gaze. "Is it so difficult to understand?"

"You mean… would you possibly mean…" he breathed, unable to end his sentence.

"You should have guessed by now…" she whispered. He was close now, so dangerously close that she could count every hair on his eyebrows.

"Hermione," he murmured.

She brightened. "I'm glad you remember my name," she said, smiling and lifting her face towards him.

Slowly, gradually, as if dragged by an invisible hand, he bent forward until, finally, he kissed her.

"And they both lived happily ever after."

?

Dear readers, this is the first of the two endings I announced 35 days ago in my Prologue (incredible how quick the time flew!). This is where the story 'could' stop: a "happily-ever-after" to the satisfaction of both the characters and some of the readers, and perhaps even the author. But, as you can imagine, this is not the real ending. Too many strings are still untied.

So, I am glad to renew my invitation: If you want to discover more and have the nerve to go on, then I encourage you to continue our journey… at your own risk! ;)