A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Bumblebee3230, a new follower! Welcome to the journey, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
-C
Lydia enjoyed her birthday falling on a rare weekend by lazing in bed. Severus didn't get her breakfast in bed this year—he had too many potions he needed to brew on a deadline to spend too much time out of bed, but he took the late morning with her, drinking tea by the fire and reading their books. Hers was a collection of Alchemy theories, his was a study of the evolution of spores in Potions. They agreed to open her gifts before she went to lunch, so she would thank people appropriately early in the day, but she would still have plenty of morning without worrying about anything but relaxation.
"What have you planned for the afternoon?" Severus asked. He turned a page and let his hand rest on her thigh, which he traced lazily.
"I haven't planned much," she admitted. "I had some marking to do, and then I thought I might do some more reading."
Severus snapped his book shut and said, "Unacceptable."
She rolled her eyes. She thought he was a bit dramatic about it, but he seemed to have a plan, so she wasn't going to argue.
"We are going to open your gifts," he said. "We are going to have lunch in the Great Hall. Then we are going to Hogsmeade, where I will take you anywhere you'd like for the remainder of the afternoon, and we will have dinner in the village."
It sounded a bit like a date, but Lydia wasn't going to say so and have him change his mind. She just laughed, agreed, and set aside her book so she could open her gifts.
Severus gave her a small stack of rare alchemy treatises, in their original tract format. Albus gave her mead. Minerva gave her a very lovely and warm jumper in Gryffindor-colored tartan. Filius gave her a charmed diary, with extra pages in each week for more notes, which he seemed to have added himself. Narcissa sent a box of fine tea, a very long letter that Lydia would save for later, and a diamond bracelet. Remus sent chocolate.
"A good haul," Lydia said, accepting a kiss from Severus. "I suppose we have to go to lunch."
They did, and Lydia expressed her thanks to the professors who had given her gifts. Pomona gave her a small but old book about unusual intersections in the magical disciplines, which Lydia very much looked forward to reading. Immediately after lunch, before the entry hall had even cleared of students milling back and forth, Severus led Lydia down to the village. As soon as they were out of the gates, though, he let her lead the way.
They stopped at Honeydukes first, and Severus let her buy far more sweets than anyone would ever need. She took him to the bookstore, where they could have spent the rest of the day, and then she paused, staring at Gladrags with a pain in her chest.
"Did you wish to go in?" Severus asked.
The very idea sounded repulsive to him, and Lydia had never once asked him to go shopping for clothes with her. In fact, she hated clothes shopping so much, she rarely went by herself. But walking through the village with Severus had felt so much like being back at school, she stopped at Gladrags's façade almost out of habit.
"Lily always used to make me start here," Lydia whispered. "When we were young, she'd buy a scarf or something. And when she had more pocket money, she'd almost always buy more robes. She was so perturbed that I'd never try anything on. And I could never tell her—"
Severus squeezed her hand. He understood perfectly that Lydia had never been able to tell her friend that she couldn't possibly afford more clothes, that she didn't want to change in public, even in a shop dressing room.
"Do you want to go inside?" Severus said, gentler this time.
She wasn't sure that she did want to, but she went in regardless, and Severus went with her. She was surprised to see the same old shopkeeper rearranging a rack of colorful robes.
"Miss Rowe!" he said, surprised, but smiling. "My goodness, but you grew into a lovely young woman. Professor Snape, good day."
Lydia just stared at him for a moment, but his smile didn't falter. Did he look at her and see Lily, like she looked at him and his shop and thought of Lily, of all the many days they'd spent in this shop looking at the beautiful colors for hours and hours?
"Were you looking for something in particular?" he finally said, still smiling.
"No, I—" Her voice caught in her throat. "I was just…"
"Browsing," Severus said sternly.
"Of course, of course. Take however long you'd like! Do let me know if you need anything." He then paused, about to turn away. "Actually, Miss Rowe, I do have a set of robes that are just your color, if you'll indulge me."
Lydia's eyes stung. How many times had he said those words? She didn't want to try the robes on, but Lily would have been begging if she'd been here now. Part of Lydia, her instinct, told her to say no, but she nodded slowly, acquiescing to her long-gone friend's request as if Lily had been speaking the words right there, right then.
The robes were emerald, not bright but rich. The cut was flattering, simple, elegant. When she came into the shop wearing them, Severus's eyebrows twitched, but he gave no further sign of interest. He really liked them, and she didn't have to guess why. She suspected the idea of her wearing Slytherin colors was very appealing to him.
Lydia considered the robes in a mirror. They were very pretty and would have cost her two weeks of meals as a teenager. She could easily afford them now, but somehow it still felt wrong.
"She'll take them," Severus said.
She closed her eyes. Somehow he knew, perhaps even scanning the surface of her mind, that she'd almost said no. She was grateful he'd made the call for her.
Dinner was simple and quick, and they returned to the castle with their purchases: a mound of sweets, half a dozen books, and one set of robes. Lydia ate a few of her sweets, put the rest of the purchases away, and changed for bed. Severus handed her the potion with an air of regret.
"I would have said let's put it off," he said, "but it's quite late, and—"
"It's fine," she said. She kissed his jaw. "It's really fine."
At first, her sleep was darkness, but in a hazy, shadowed image, dreams did come, despite the potion.
Lydia walked through the entrance hall, her feet echoing on the stone with every step. There was a rhythm to her steps like dropping water in the dungeons, or a cave, or from a very large spout in a very large room.
The shadows moved strangely, growing and shrinking with every step. Lydia turned toward the staircase to the dungeons, and she hesitated, wavering at the top of the steps. She didn't need to think to know what was waiting at the bottom. She couldn't see more than an arm's length in front of her, but she knew. She was alone, but she knew. She heard a squeaking, high-pitched, like the turning of a rusty gate, and the dripping again, higher in pitch, longer in period.
She began walking down the steps, planting each foot on a step before going down to the next. She couldn't seem to stop moving forward, but she did seem able to slow herself down. Or was the dream slowing her down for some other purpose? Lydia watched as the pale shape at the bottom of the stairs began to clarify in her view. She couldn't stop walking down the stairs, even when she was standing, barefoot, in the puddle of blood. She stood there, feet sticky and cold. She looked up at Mary's own cold, pale feet, and a drop of blood ran off Mary's toe and hit Lydia's forehead with surprising force.
She woke with a gasp as Severus gripped her shoulders. He wasn't beside her in bed, but standing over her, frowning.
"She—she—" Lydia gasped, looking around. She wiped at her forehead, but all she felt was sweat. Still, it felt unclean.
"It was a nightmare, Lydia."
"Her—She—"
"You're alright," he said, but he was still frowning. She tried to catch her breath. She wanted to ask what happened, but she couldn't seem to form a phrase. Finally, when he was satisfied she was mostly calm, Severus sat beside her on the bed.
"I got up for a glass of water," he said. "You weren't breathing, and your eyelid motion was incorrect for the potion. You had a nightmare."
"Yes," she whispered.
She looked down at her fingers. They were clean, but they shouldn't be. There had been blood everywhere. She could still feel it on her face, between her toes.
"That shouldn't be possible."
"It's…happened before," she said. "Even with the potion. It was strange, though. Not clear. Darker, blurred. But it felt real."
She would have to talk to Albus about it, perhaps even relieve the thing so he could see what she meant. She just wanted it to go away.
Severus rubbed his temples.
"I need to make adjustments to the potion," he said. "Perhaps you've built up tolerance to certain ingredients, or perhaps your body chemistry has shifted."
"Why—?"
"It is not an unusual thing," he said. "A normal part of aging and living. I will take some readings in the morning and we can see how to proceed from there. For now—"
"I don't want to sleep," she whispered. Severus hesitated, obviously wanting to insist that she get some rest. Lydia sat as straight as she could, rolling her shoulders back, ready for a fight. She wasn't going back to that moment again. She wasn't going to feel that again, not tonight.
Severus was still frowning, but he said, "What would you like, then?"
"A shower," she said, rubbing at the phantom blood on her forehead. "And then…tea. I don't know. I have work I didn't get done today."
Again, Severus hesitated, but he didn't fight her. He helped her stand, because she was still shaking, and he led her into the bathroom.
"What would you like to wear when you finish?" he asked.
"Oh, anything."
He kissed the corner of her lips, started the water, and left her alone. Lydia stripped out of her sweaty night clothes and stepped under the warm water. She shivered, and she looked down at the shower floor, fully expecting to see the water streaked with red. It was perfectly clear.
Lydia took deep breaths through her nose, and she wondered when Albus would get approval to visit Azkaban. She wanted her answers. She wanted this to stop. She wanted to feel safe to sleep at night again, or at least to stop worrying Severus.
Even after washing her skin, scrubbing toes to hairline twice over, Lydia didn't feel properly clean. She washed her hair to get read of the sweat and oils, and she toweled off quickly. Severus had left out another set of sleep clothes, these unseasonably warm, but quite comfortable. Lydia changed into them and rubbed her hands over the soft fleece several times before she combed her hair and went out to the sofa. Severus sat with two cups of tea and a book.
"How was your shower?" he asked, not looking up from his page.
"Fine," she said.
She rubbed at her forehead, but he didn't ask. He knew her nightmares well enough to guess what she'd dreamed about. Lydia took the tea without steam billowing off, and she sat down beside him on the sofa. She fished around in her bag for the essays she'd been putting off. When she had them out and ready to mark, Severus said, "Would you care for assistance?"
She wouldn't mind having help with them, but she knew it was beyond his level to help her with. She shook her head, said it would calm her to do them, and he didn't argue. Instead, he set down his book, shifted her legs so they were on his lap, and he began to carefully massage her feet.
"What are you doing?" she said, trying not to laugh.
"Do you…dislike it?" he asked, frowning at her feet.
"No, it's…. No," she said, biting back a groan as he hit a sore spot on her foot. "I just…don't understand why you're—"
"I want to feel useful," he said, caressing the arch of her foot before running his thumbs along it with some pressure. "If I can't have the task be more efficient, at the least I can make it more pleasant."
Lydia thanked him, then bit her lip before she turned her attention to Cedric's essay. She half-wished she had the courage to ask Severus to do this more often, but she knew that was a lot to ask of him. She could at least enjoy the attention while it lasted.
The essays were fine, as she expected them to be. The group were diligent, and they worked well together, and she felt they were all going to pass their exams without too much difficulty, but she particularly appreciated Severus's efforts to keep her feeling pleasant. He didn't let up on the foot massage for a moment, not through the entire years' worth of essays, and when she finally set them down and stretched her arms, Severus didn't pause in his work on her feet.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
If she were being honest with him, she would have said she felt exhausted. But she didn't want him to suggest she go to sleep again, so she said she felt cozy. It wasn't a lie. She felt very comfortable with his thumbs working into her feet, with her tea in her hands, with her head resting on the back of the sofa.
"I'm glad," he said. "We have…" He glanced at his watch. "There are seven hours yet until breakfast. Do you plan to be productive for all seven, or have you the space in your schedule to rest?"
He delivered it entirely deadpan, but Lydia knew he was teasing her. She didn't have seven hours of time-controlled work to do even if she wanted it, and even if she wanted to read about alchemy for seven hours, her brain would be mush within four.
"I can take a break now," she said, "and perhaps we can read when I finish my tea."
"You'll want another cup then, I presume," he said.
Lydia just smiled. She would probably have many cups of tea today, just to keep her rolling through, but she didn't mind. If it weren't for the nightmare, she'd almost consider it a kind of second birthday.
Severus pressed the second cup in her hand, cooled sufficiently. She sipped her tea and watched him sip his own too-hot tea. Lydia wondered whether he had a temperature where the tea was too hot for him to drink, or if he had a mouth made of asbestos and just didn't notice temperature. She almost laughed at the thought, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
"It's good to see you laugh," he said, when she didn't explain herself. "Even if it is, I suspect, at my expense."
"It's not like that," she said. But Lydia did not explain what it was like. She stretched her legs over his lap once more, not expecting another foot rub, but enjoying the feel of his body, his closeness, the domesticity of the situation. She thought briefly of the children they'd been, how many times they'd curled up on the floor of his bedroom, or her bedroom, with tea they'd made with already-steeped leaves, huddled together and daydreaming of somewhere warmer, or of what life would look like if they could eat whatever they wanted, or if they could go wherever they wanted, or if they could have a single wish without any negative drawbacks.
"If you could have any wish," Lydia asked, closing her eyes, "what would it be?"
Severus's long pause told her that he recognized the question. She thought of opening her eyes, but she knew his face would give away no hints about what he felt, being asked that question again after so many years.
"I don't know," he whispered. "There are many things to wish for. None of them feel quite right."
He was sparing her feelings, although in what direction, she wasn't sure. Perhaps he'd wish for Lily back, or perhaps he'd wish that Sirius was dead, or perhaps he wished something terrible would happen to Remus.
"Why don't they?" she asked, nervous.
"I don't deserve them," he said. "Probably I never did, but I certainly don't now. And you, Lydia? What would your wish be?"
It was a difficult question. She could have anyone back that she lost in the war. She could erase something horrible from her past. She could marry Remus. She could sustain herself in perfect solitude to focus on her work. So many beautiful dreams.
"I think," she said, "I'd like to tell my mother goodbye."
Severus's legs stiffened. She wasn't surprised that she'd surprised him—she'd never even thought the thought herself, but of all the people she lost, that was still the greatest shock to her system. She wasn't even sure that she loved her mother, or that her mother loved her, but Lydia could almost feel her mother's soft, thin hair in her fingers, the warmth of her mother's smooth, pale neck against Lydia's cheek.
"I don't know that I'd keep her alive," Lydia said, opening her eyes. "I'd just want to say goodbye. Is that terrible?"
"I don't think so," Severus said, frowning. "I don't know that your mother would have known who to be without your father around. In a way, perhaps letting her stay dead is a mercy."
Lydia supposed that was true of all the dead, in their own ways, but the morbid and depressing thought slipped away before she knew how to voice it, and Lydia took another sip of tea.
A/N: So, it's Lydia's birthday again, she and Severus have a lovely day out, and after another nightmare, they stay up all night being adorable. I had a blast digging back into their history for this one. Birthdays tend to make people reflective, anyway, and with the nightmare and the almost dating-in-school-style Hogsmeade date, they were bound to take a few jaunts down memory lane. I just finished drafting the chapter with the Howler, and I have to tell you guys, Lockhart is NOT easy to write (it feels wrong, like he's not a real enough character, because who is really that much of a self-obsessed jerk? Except they do exist), but golly is he fun. For those of you who've been looking for Lydia to stand up for herself more? You're going to LOVE year two.
Review Prompt: If you could have any wish, but you could only have one, what would it be? I'd straight up give myself forty hour days, but keep the rest of the world on 24, because otherwise I'd still manage to not have enough time. Actually, let's go for broke, I'd go for 48 hour days, because why not just double it?
-C