Round 5
Ilvermorny: Year 5
Theme: The Shrieking Shack
Look at horror and fear in the wizarding world.
Special rule: Incorporate the colour white and the meaning behind it in your story: Innocence
Buzzwords: 3. Haunted
4. Death Eaters
7. Night terrors
8. Trauma
1. Prejudice
Main prompt: 5. [Colour] Baby pink
Optional prompts
6. [Event] Picnic
13. [Genre] Romance
Word count: 3848 plus the 10%
Betaed by Sarah and my sweet Grizzly Bear who I bribed with ghosthugs and cookies. Thank you both! A special thank you to Shini for making time to help me with the ending decisions.
Author Note:
I used mild language, the word" bastard". But it's just one instance.
In my timeline: Hermione is:
12 in first year (19 September)
13 in second
14 in third; she gains a year and five months due to overuse of the time Turner so she goes beyond 15
16 and 5 months in fourth year
17 and five months in fifth
18 and five months in sixth (19 September)
But as the action takes place in June of the next year she is 18 and 10 months. More than the age of consent and almost two years older for the Wizarding World off age of 17.
Dumbledore had decided after asking Severus to kill him to have someone else know about Severus. Insurance if you will.
The meanings of the colours that I used are below. I wrote in bold the most featured ones.
White colour meanings that I used beside innocence.
White is a colour of protection and encouragement, offering a sense of peace and calm, comfort and hope, helping alleviate emotional upsets. It creates a sense of order and efficiency, a great help if you need to declutter your life.
White offers an inner cleansing and purifying of your thoughts, emotions and, ultimately, your spirit, refreshing and strengthening your entire energy system.
Many people use white as a recall of their youth and innocence. It reminds them of a time when their lives were easier and less complicated. Too much white can cause feelings of isolation and emptiness.
Baby Pink Colour Meanings that I used:
Baby Pink represents friendship, affection.
Both red and pink represent love. The colour red represents heat and passion, while the color pink represents romance and charm.
The color pink also represents caring and compassion. The pink colour stands for unconditional love and understanding, and is associated with giving and receiving care. Since pink is a combination of red and white, both colors add a little to its characteristics. Passion and power from the color red, softened with the purity and openness of the white color completes pink colour meaning.
Pink is romantic, loving, caring and extremely considerate. It tones down the physical passion from the red color and replaces it with a gentle and loving energy. The color pink is insightful and intuitive and it shows tenderness and kindness from its empathetic and sensitive nature.
In color psychology, pink is a sign of hope. It is a positive color that inspires warm and comforting feelings. The color pink gives the feeling that everything will go well or be okay. Most people have heard of the saying "everything is rosy".
The pink color has a calming effect on our emotional energies and can relieve feelings of anger, aggression and neglect. There are studies confirming that high amounts of pink color can have a calming effect on the nerves and even create physical weakness in people. Pink has successfully treated violent and aggressive prisoners by placing them in rooms with pink walls over a certain period of time. Overexposure to the color has the opposite effect.
Pink helps people get in touch with their thoughtful and caring side, either through the need to receive, give or care for others.
The color pink represents the sweet and innocent in children and our inner child. It goes with the innocence of colour white.
The negative side of pink color meaning is that it represents a lack of willpower, self-confidence and self-esteem. Pink may also give you peace, relaxation and satisfaction
It eliminates erratic disorders.
Toning down the passion of red with the purity of white results in the softer pinks that are associated with romance and the blush of a young woman's cheeks. For women who are often overworked and overburdened, an attraction to pink may speak of a desire for the more carefree days of childhood.
He didn't know where he was or what was happening, but he could see the anger in their eyes, all of them hungry for revenge. Revenge for his deeds, to make him pay. There was darkness too. It was everywhere. He raised his hands to signify he didn't have his wand and then he saw it: the blood on his hands. There was so much blood. All the voices were shouting at him, all of them were watching with accusing eyes; he felt himself falling on his knees, begging them to stop.
"Murderer! Death Eater! Bastard!"
He took it all because he was guilty, wasn't he? He was all what they called him and worse. They were right to want revenge. Weren't they?
"Severus, please!" He'd done it. "Severus, please!" He'd killed him.
"My death isn't your fault. You have to do it." He'd said so. And Severus had done it. But he was no innocent; the blood on his hands proved it.
Suddenly he felt he couldn't breathe; they were all coming closer. He tried to stand up, to run, but on the other side, there were red eyes. He was surrounded. What could he do? Which fate was worse? Which death would be kinder?
And then the scene shifted. Now he recognised the place. He was back at Hogwarts and all the other teachers were looking at him, wanting to hurt him. All of his friends... they were no friends anymore.
How had he gotten here from the darkness? How could he run now? Where would he go?
"Murderer."
"Please," he found himself saying. But they were listening.
"You killed him. You killed him!" they were all screaming, and he found himself agreeing, crumbling under their angry glare.
"I killed him," he gasped and felt their wands pressed against his throat. That would be the end of him and—.
"Severus wake up! You didn't kill him!" a new voice said. Something, or rather someone, was shaking him. "You had to do it. You're not at fault for his actions!"
Hearing the voice, they got angrier, coming closer and closer to him.
"Stop! Please!" he wanted to beg, but there was no one. He was alone with his nightmares.
"Severus! Wake up!"
And he finally did, and he saw he wasn't alone. She was there. Why hadn't she left? Hadn't he tortured her enough? Every night he woke up screaming. Or rather she woke him up from his night terrors. Ever since the funeral, he had joined all the many people in his dreams. Sometimes, the headmaster's eyes held compassion, giving Severus hope against the tormentors who followed him. But sometimes, he joined them, joined the crowd of people who blamed him, who accused him, who wanted revenge for what he'd done. He was grateful tonight had been the former of the dreams.
"Why are you still here?"
"Because I care." Her answer was so simple. She cared for him.
"I know you. And I know you are as terrified as the rest of us. You don't show it, but you're haunted much more than all of us. Even Harry."
He flinched at Potter's name. She didn't know what Dumbledore told him. She didn't know her friend was meant to die. And he didn't dare tell her. Not because he doubted her Occlumency skills—both he and the Headmaster had tested them at the beginning of the year—but he didn't want to burden her with the horror of the knowledge that her best friend had to die. Him knowing was enough. He had to hope he'd live long enough to deliver the message. Hope, such a weird concept it was. And yet, looking at her, he found himself hoping. Her words comforted him. He was glad someone knew why he'd done what he'd done.
"But why do you care?" he asked again.
She shouldn't. She shouldn't know about any of the things they'd burdened her with. Especially what the Headmaster had asked of him. Out of everyone the old man had suggested, Severus Snape knew that Hermione Granger was the best choice. However, Dumbledore should have never suggested anyone in the first place, Severus' feelings on the matter aside. Yes, he was glad someone knew the truth, but he wished he could have preserved her innocence more. Longer.
"You know why," she whispered, kneeling in front of his bed.
With a wave of her wand, she conjured a pink rose. Severus took it, his hand shaking. He knew why. A year in her presence had erased years of devotion to the ghost of a woman long gone. A year in her presence, and he'd found himself wanting to be saved in the end. She was his friend; she cared for him and she understood him. She'd become the new reason he woke up everyday, the reason his nightmares had an end. She saw innocence where he saw guilt and damnation. She still believed he could be saved.
Hermione hadn't been affected by the prejudice the other Order members held against him, nor by the other students'. Severus felt hope when he looked at her warm brown eyes. She'd given him unconditional forgiveness for actions he himself, couldn't forgive.
"Why didn't he think you wouldn't be affected? How could he do this?" she said, slowly standing up to reach his bed.
He felt himself moving to let her sit. She was dressed in a pink gown with white flowers, the type of gown children wore. His heart clenched. She was far away from childhood. And yet didn't they all want to go back to their little self? To be young and carefree again.
She sat near him, forcing him to stand upright and stare at her. The blush on her cheeks was lovely. Hermione had voiced the question that had plagued both of their minds ever since they'd been thrust together. Why had the Headmaster believed Severus wouldn't suffer from killing his own mentor? He didn't know. But he had a pretty good guess; he was just wary to say it out loud.
"I'm a Death Eater. I've seen death and horror, as the name indicates. I've done them. I have seen the victims' eyes before Death took them. The fear and the horror they felt, all marked forever on their unblinking eyes. You don't know what it takes to get a Dark Mark. I got away from the gore of it, because Lucius knew I still hoped, somewhere deep down, that Lily Evans would come back and choose me."
That had been another change. She was the first person he'd told about his love for Lily. She deserved to know who she was going to defend. Severus had been afraid she'd hate him; after all, he was the reason her friend's parents were dead. But she'd been empathetic and kind and had smiled, hugging him. She was hope, in the truest sense of the word. The whitest of whites.
"He knew that the Dark Lord couldn't ask of me what he'd asked of others. But I've still done enough. You don't understand the things I've done. What I've seen and let happen. I'm not innocent; I guess Dumbledore knew that, too."
She stopped him by turning his shirt pink with a flick of her wand. He looked horrified and reached for his wand to switch it back.
"Accio!" She was faster. "No, you don't. Mine is pink. Yours should be pink too, please."
He grumbled at her, but she took his hands in hers, closing on the flower he still held, and murmured, "Just for one night. Tonight."
He couldn't say no to her. Looking at the newly changed colour, a sense of peace enveloped him, almost eliminating the fear from his nightmare. She reached his face and made him look at her. For the first time, he noticed she had a white bracelet on.
"That doesn't matter Severus. The Headmaster knew what I know, too. Innocence doesn't mean just not having done something. It means not wanting to do it, not having a choice. And you didn't. You still don't. Neither of us do. We're in the game and now we're playing it."
"What if we do? My soul is tainted. Forever tainted. That's why I didn't object to what he asked of me, especially if I could spare Draco the horror of taking a life."
Tears fell down his face. Weirdly, he hadn't realised he was crying.
It was a mistake. She really shouldn't be with him now. But he couldn't help but crave her affections and her sweet whispered words of comfort.
"You should go. The Order will be looking for you. I thought you left after dinner"
She frowned at him, not moving.
"Don't torture yourself, I beg of you. I know I need to go, but Severus—" She didn't finish; rather, she started playing with the new floral pattern of his shirt. But he knew she had cut off her words because of him.
The only words in existence that both incriminated and made him innocent. Severus, please!
All the Order and the Wizarding World wanted to avenge their leader, and to kill him. Their hate was amplified by fear, because they were scared of him, too. Of what he could do and of what he'd done.
They couldn't know what he was going through. They didn't understand what the Headmaster had asked of and what he'd taken from him. Initially, Albus Dumbledore had been the only one to believe in him, his only ally. Until her. The goddess in front of him in pink clothes. Severus thanked everyday the stars which had aligned and she had used that time turner in her third year. He was grateful that her parents had had her a year before her peers. He didn't know what he would have done if she hadn't been of age when they had started working together. Of all things, he was no predator.
Looking at her, standing so close to him; it made him blush. She was sweet and caring, and he needed her close more than he needed air to breathe. Hermione had held him every night when he returned from his Death Eater meetings, which had been just celebrations... horrible, horrible celebrations. She hadn't asked what was happening, she had been just there, thoughtful and comforting; with her, he felt that everything would be alright in the end.
And now he had to send her away. Soon he'd break down, he'd hold off, because she didn't need to see how really broken he was inside. How broken he'd become.
"I know," she said," but not right now. You need me."
"Hermione,..." but he couldn't speak. He did need her. Hadn't he been thinking just how much?
"We need to talk. I know you've tried to be brave, but you cannot hide behind that mask of yours, at least not from me."
She stood up. He couldn't help but stare at her; he'd never seen her in her nightclothes before. Each time she'd woken him up, she'd been dressed in her day clothes. But not tonight. She extended a hand to him, signalling she wanted him to stand up.
"Come on, up!"
"You said you wanted to talk." He didn't understand.
"I know what I said. But we won't talk here. Come with me. Trust me."
He was nervous; she'd never seen him fully in pyjamas, either.
"Don't be shy, trust me."
When he finally took her hand, he felt all his worries go away. She'd had that calming effect on him since day one.
He pushed his covers aside and stood up, never letting go of her hand. To his dismay, his black trousers were white now. She was quite the powerful witch.
Severus followed her lead, trying not to let his anxiety show. He didn't need to fear, though; soon he realised that she could lead him anywhere, and he'd follow.
They went outside, and he had to bite back the tinge of fear nagging on his soul. They were safe in his garden; the Dark Lord now trusted him and he wasn't to be crossed. And still, memories of the summer before came back in his mind. When he couldn't move without Pettigrew there watching his every step.
He had to hold back a gasp when they finally arrived at the destination. The beautiful cherry tree he'd planted as a child had been decorated with pink and white blossoms. And underneath it, there was a white blanket and a golden basket.
"What's this?" he managed to ask, his mouth dry. Even if he could see what it was.
"A picnic, silly. You mentioned the other day that you've never been to a picnic event with your class as a child because your mother feared your accidental magic. My parents never let me go either. They knew what it was like for me, even though I didn't tell them how cruel the other children were to me. But I've always wanted to. I heard all the other children tell tales of the picnics they've had, but I never had my own little picnic. I thought we could share this. We need to talk before I go and I think we both need this—some childishness. I prepared this and then I heard you screaming; I haven't had time to change. And…"
That explained her gown. So it hadn't been intentional. He turned his attention back to her and she blushed under his gaze.
"And what?"
Her blush deepened, a beautiful shade of pink gracing her features.
"And the night is lovely, don't you think?" She pointed at the half moon above and the stars shining back at them. There were no clouds and outside there was a slight breeze.
Looking at her, he murmured, "Lovely indeed."
They both settled on the blanket and while initially Severus had thought it'd be too pink and white, he found that it was just the right amount to make him go back to those carefree days of childhood.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him, yet again giving him a rose, this time a white one. Severus had to smile at that.
"I never asked what you've been dreaming, I know only what I've heard. But please, I know I need to go. The Order will be looking for me soon; we need to move Harry after all. However, I cannot leave you like this. Deny it as you may, you suffered from trauma too. As I said you're probably more affected than Harry. I need you to talk with me. I care too much to let you like this. You resemble a ghost sometimes when you wake. Haunted eyes... don't you think I've noticed you holding back tears?"
He'd hoped she hadn't. However it seemed now that nothing escaped her. She was just eighteen years old, almost nineteen, and she was far wiser than he'd been at that age. Another reason he should tell her to leave and not come back. Looking at her, he found himself not able to utter the words to send her away. She made him feel he was worth something.
"I'd rather you hadn't."
She smiled and took his hands in hers again, and he relished in the feeling of her warmth.
"I know," she said simply, squeezing his hands softly. "Talk with me. I won't judge you. We all have our nightmares and fears. You've just seen more than us. More than anyone. And it makes me so angry that you've had to see and do all these things. If I could, I'd change time, I'd avenge you. Because it isn't right. The world shouldn't have shown you just its horror and taken away from your innocence."
He willed himself to look away. He wasn't one to talk or express his emotions. Dumbledore himself had been completely shocked when he'd learnt Hermione knew about Lily. The old man's eyes had twinkled for a week.
"I dream about him too sometimes," he found himself saying. Why did you do it Severus?
You killed me! COWARD!
The voices in his head came back in full force, as well as the faces that they belonged to; especially his face—despite the fact that he knew the Headmaster would've died no matter what Severus did—the most recent addition to his nightmares. He stiffened under her hold and tried to shake her hands off. However, she didn't let him.
"I know," she whispered, looking pointedly at him. "I know you dream that he hates you too. But, Severus, it's not true. He made the wrong choices, but he cared as I do. I know he joined your torments while you sleep. I've heard you. Don't run from me. I beg of you."
He cautiously nodded. Severus knew he wouldn't say much, it simply wasn't in his nature, but he realised he could say something. If he couldn't talk with her, then with who?
She beamed at him, eyes shining under the moonlight. Slowly, she raised a hand and reached for the basket from where she dug up a plate of neatly made sandwiches and a bottle of lemonade. He raised an eyebrow at that.
"No wine, so we won't dull our senses."
Of course. They were in the middle of a war, whose horrors had just started.
"You're right," he murmured. "I do dream about him. Sometimes he blames me, sometimes he doesn't. But still the worst are the faces of the people I killed to maintain my role... I am a criminal, a murderer, a horrible person."
When she opened her mouth to interrupt him, he held up the hand she'd freed when she'd taken the food out. Taking a large sip from the lemonade she'd poured in a white glass with pink decorations, he continued.
"I know. You think I'm innocent. But it doesn't change the fact that I did do those things. Choice or not. Even before the Dark Lord came back. You know how horrible I've been. How I am. I couldn't change. I don't know if I can change. It takes a lot of me to talk with you now."
She looked down, but he lifted her face with his fingers and smiled.
"However, I know I need to speak with someone, and you're the only one I'd do it with. The only one I trust enough." With what he hoped it was a smile, he reached for a sandwich." And the only one I trust to cook for me."
Wisely, neither mentioned the house elves. The sandwiches were delicious; was there something she couldn't do to perfection? They ate in silence for a bit; her watching him and him pretending to admire the white cherry blossoms.
"Dumbledore, he'd been right." Severus broke the silence." The Dark Lord had come back and asked about my role at Hogwarts. How much I still hated children. I showed him I hadn't changed." And then he went quiet again.
She didn't force him to continue, and just held on his hand while the other reached for another sandwich.
Neville Longbottom was another face that tugged at his soul. Potter had been a must; Longbottom had been a result of his overly cold heart. Her, too: Hermione Jean Granger. Severus had been cruel to her as well. And now here she was, having a picnic in his back garden and listening to his confessions, calming his fears.
It was her he was seeing when he closed his eyes each night now. She'd become Hermione. How had she done that? He found he couldn't quite remember.
She was light. His light. She made him humble. She understood him like no one ever before; Severus could see that in her eyes. Despite everything, she really understood him.. Where he loathed himself, she loved him. He didn't believe he could survive, but she raised his self confidence. With her by his side, he found that he wanted to live. As much as he wanted to tell her everything now.
With new found hope, he opened his mouth again.
"The celebrations of Dumbledore's death. I had to take part. I did the ultimate act after all. I killed Albus Dumbledore. I didn't have any excuse left. To his knowledge, I only have one Master. The revels started again. And again I had to watch how many Muggles were tortured, how many women were killed, how many I had to kill myself." He stopped to gauge her reaction, but she didn't seem scared or disgusted by him. Her eyes were still warm and caring. So he continued.
"The list of what I've done is long. I've killed many, even if it was because I didn't want to force them... to do something else. Do you know that dead people look innocent after they die, so peaceful in their sleep? Their eyes, however, give the horror away if left open."
Silently he'd said his sorrows, silently he'd begged their souls to forgive him. He knew he never could, no matter what Hermione said. The fact that he hated his actions, didn't make him innocent.
"I'd proved my loyalty, you see. I could get away with just torture, because I killed Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light. And I had had to hate him enough to cast the most horrible curse on him. Hermione," Severus cried, "I really hated him in those last moments. I really did." He was haunted every breathing moment of the ghost of that night.
To his surprise, she hugged him, and he could feel the tears she was holding back.
"Oh, Severus, I hated him, too. But it's what he wanted. I know you see yourself guilty of everything, including his death. And you have to pretend it is so. But Severus, listen to me. You're not guilty. Yes, your innocence was taken, but you're not guilty. Adults failed you. Horror and fear shouldn't be for a teenager."
He wanted to believe she was right, he needed her to be right. If he was to go back, to pretend, to play the role and kill again, he needed that belief. Because he wouldn't have her any longer. The Dark Lord was getting closer to the Ministry and she needed to be with Potter.
Severus didn't know how long they stayed embraced, but he pulled back when he felt her shiver. Despite being July, early mornings could get pretty chilly, especially since they were in their thin pyjamas.
"We should go to sleep. You need to go back in the morning," he said, but offered her a smile. "Thank you for the picnic. You were right. I needed this." For a moment, he'd gone back to his childhood, when he'd pretend to have picnics by himself, never brave enough to ask Lily to join him.
Her own smile was blinding. "Just try to believe me."
Severus would try, for her and for them. He loved her. The realisation washed over him. It seemed that always wasn't forever after all.