Now betaed! =) thanks to the amazing ThisLifeIsAWasteland
Luna Lovegood scrutinized the outfits spread out on the bed and shook her head skeptically.
"No, Maya, this won't do, you're not going to a boring meeting at the Ministry, you're having a ball, do you hear me, a b-a-l-l!"
Hermione, hidden in the closet up to her shoulders, was looking for something in its farthest depths, not paying attention to either her friend's remarks or the nickname "Maya", which Luna persistently called her. Hermione remembered how one day, during a particularly talkative get-together on a Friday evening in the company of mulled wine and chocolate cake, she questioned Luna on it.
"Why are you calling me Maya?"
Luna tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes a little, pondering the answer, or maybe she was looking for unknown creatures, visible only to her?
"You know, you could lead an army of heliopaths that burn everything in their path, at least you acted as such during the Battle of Hogwarts when October reigned in your soul."
"And now?" Hermione asked, somewhat confused by Luna's lengthy statement.
"Now, Hermione, autumn in your soul is over, May has come, that's why you became Maya, but heliopaths are still ready to rush to your rescue if something happens."
Hermione didn't know exactly when she and Luna got close. A strange girl, who was avoided by classmates and shunned by peers from other Houses, Luna Lovegood nevertheless won the respect of the professors. She was the first to understand who was fighting for Light and who was fighting for Darkness during the Battle. In Snape's final year as a Headmaster, Luna began studying healing under Madam Pomfrey's tutelage, so eventually, Luna became familiar with the secrets that were never spoken aloud. Therefore, Hermione was not at all surprised when Luna emerged, as if out of thin air in the midst of a battle and, grabbing her by the sleeve, dragged her somewhere in the direction of the Shrieking Hut, saying that Professor Snape needed help, and as soon as possible. Who knows what other secrets Luna saw in the people around her? If she did, she never let it slip. Instead dropping knowing suggestions in her unique ethereal way. With her inner instinct, Hermione knew that Luna would never betray her or betray her secrets.
"What do you suggest I wear?" Hermione asked from the depths of the closet and pulled out ripped jeans and a frayed T-shirt that looked like a perfect item from the late 70s.
Luna giggled and clapped her hands.
"You can dress up like your mother! I think Professor McGonagall will appreciate this outfit particularly, or you can also dress up as your grandmother and dance rock and roll with Professor Snape."
Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Luna, stop teasing me!"
"I am not teasing you, I am just saying that you need to unwind a little, Maya! You work day and night, you don't go out and you don't even have plants because you don't have time to care for them. Get a fabulous hairstyle, girl, put on a skirt, and make them envy you and your beauty!"
"Luna, I'm not going to a night club, you know" Hermione waved her friend's remark aside, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was assigned to look after the students, so I am on business there, one might say."
"You are on business together with Professor Snape, mind you."
"I can already see his happy expression when he finds out about it," Hermione grinned. "Just imagine: a whole evening in the company of a Gryffindor swot, what a wonderful leisure!"
"And yet he allowed you to contact him with questions about the Dark Curses," Luna objected.
"I didn't give him time to answer."
"Then you know what? Put aside that fairy rights manifesto you were about to put on your head and show me that chic dark green dress your parents gave you last Christmas."
"This is not a manifesto for the rights of fairies," Hermione whined, offended. "This is the crown!"
"Queen Mab's crown; shall I remind you that she was known for her bad reputation and she was red-haired. I think you have enough redheads in your life. You will be Persephone, I will lend you my garnet bracelet."
Hermione frowned. "You've had enough of redheads in your life." Harry's mom was red-haired, Ron was also famous for his hair. Whatever Luna meant, she was somewhat right.
Snape leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes: another pointless week flew by filling his thoughts with unnecessary worries and endless reflections on moral dilemmas. He managed to brew a potion of Pristine Memories, the recipe for which he sought out in Hermione's notes. Therefore, having connected with the previous version of himself, he managed to remember the whole past year with its sorrows and victories. However, time passed, and he had so much to fix.
The last thing Severus wanted was to fix the past, to plot his strategy, and to plan his future. It was a shame to admit, but he was jealous of Crookshanks. The ginger mischief snuck into Hogwarts every night and invariably ended up in Snape's chambers. It seemed that the man and the cat had entered into some kind of pact of unwritten male solidarity. Deep down, Snape was proud that Crooks had chosen him as his master. That is, the cat chose Snape and not vice versa.
So now the cat was dozing by the fireplace, while Snape tried to hide from his own thoughts.
Moral dilemmas haunted him all his life. Whether he should have joined the Death Eaters or whether he should have listened to Dumbledore with his eulogies about love. Whether he should have warned the Potters about the Prophecy or whether he should have stayed loyal to the Dark Lord. Whether he should have got close to Minerva and Poppy, or whether he should have stayed true to Albus's senseless words about the eternal loneliness of a spy. Whether he should have proposed to Hermione, or whether he should have lived his life in the Slytherin dungeons in loneliness and misery. Whether he should have traveled the world or whether he should have returned to Hogwarts to try and make his dunderheads better people. So now Severus was contemplating whether he should be saving Ron Weasley to the detriment of his own happiness or not?
Severus squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine approaching, a red-hot nail being screwed into his temple, and colorful circles flickering before his eyes. Most of all he wanted to extinguish the candles, to close the curtains, to find a wet cloth somewhere, and to put it on his forehead, but the armchair was too comfy to leave it and go in search of a wet cloth, and over the years of serving two masters, he saw ailments worse than migraines. The headache, however severe, in Snape's opinion, was just an annoying misunderstanding.
Crooks jumped into his lap and curled up into a ball. Snape vaguely remembered that Muggles believed that cats helped to soothe headaches. Snape closed his eyes and decided to hope for a miracle. Heavy thoughts buzzed in his head.
Snape had been keeping an eye on Ron for the past week, learning his schedule better than his own. On Monday Ron played Quidditch with Potter. On Tuesday he visited his parents. On Wednesday Ron dropped in to see George. On Thursday afternoon, Ron visited Fred, who fell into a coma after the Battle and was being treated at St. Mungo's. And Friday was marked by the traditional drinking at the "Hog's Head". Snape followed Ron like a shadow, invisible to everyone, but too dangerous for those who were looking for adventures in smoky bars.
The Weasley boy was slowly but surely drinking his life away. Snape had seen this habit too often with his own father, so he could not stand aside. Potter was always busy either serving in Aurory Department, spending his days in amorous affairs with the youngest Weasley, or haunting the remaining Death Eaters down. Ron, on the other hand, was too mired in post-traumatic stress to be able to get out alone.
It was in vain that the Weasley believed that Hermione would become his wife, that she would give birth to a bunch of children, and everything would as it was before: sunny, warm, and happy. Snape didn't believe in happy endings. Too often in the past, Snape had caught Hermione's absent gaze when she suddenly happened to freeze in the middle of a conversation and stare into nothingness. Too often, his Slytherins came to see him on weekends to watch him check his essays or work on a particularly insidious potion. They desperately wanted to feel that everything was the same again, and there was no war, no Great Battle, no threat to life. Too often, Snape himself had wondered if the Wizarding world could benefit from good therapists. The Muggles understood PTSD far better than the all-mighty wizards.
Because of this, Snape perfectly understood what kind of illness Ron Weasley had been suffering from, and, having experienced the same kind of illness in the past, Snape also knew how to treat PTSD. There was no better remedy for depression than travel or a banal change of activity. This was Severus's opinion, and mediwizards could disagree with him - he rarely paid attention to those who disagreed.
Yes, Hermione and Weasleys were childhood friends, they had a short romance that ended in nothing good. In the end, as it goes, Ron died tragically on the eve of the Marriage Act. Snape knew about all this. He could let everything take its course, letting the boy die, and then Hermione would become his wife, continuing to remember her dead first love. He could intervene, he could save Ron's life, and he could hope that everything would work itself out. Snape chose the third option instead: he planned to prevent the Weasley boy from dying, using all this Slytherin cunning and subtlety.
Tincture of belladonna and asphodel gave a unique opportunity to inspire a person with the necessary information and remain unnoticed to everyone.
Snape used this potion many times during his time as a spy. The potion and his innate talent for Occlumency allowed him to whisper to the victim the plan of action he needed. It was not difficult to track Ron down. As with every previous Friday, Ron was down at Hog's Head, drinking his pain away. A skillfully applied illusion charm made Severus unrecognizable to the possible fellow wizards, so when Ron staggered out of the bar, Snape was already waiting for him in a secluded corner.
"Hey, mate, d'ya have a smoke?" Ron muttered in a tangled tongue.
Perfect, the Weasley boy was not only addicted to alcohol, but he also hell-bent on destroying his lungs as well. Not that Snape would refuse a good cigar and a glass of fire whiskey, but the Weasley's addictions left much to be desired. Severus winced at the smell of cheap liquor hitting his senses and thrust the bottle of potion under Ron's nose.
"Legillimens!"
As the vapors of belladonna and asphodel put Ron into a stupor, Snape peered into his eyes, whispering his hypnosis :
"It makes no sense to stay in Britain and drink your last money. You need to go to Romania, working with dragons tempers and disciplines. Alcohol won't solve your problems. So you must leave. At dawn. With the very first portkey to Bucharest. And it is worth looking for information on how to find yourself a psychotherapist. You and Hermione are too different. You wouldn't have succeeded anyway."
"And stop smoking that stench already, boy!" Snape muttered at last and cut the connection. Without giving Ron time to recover, he put the portkey to Bucharest in his palm. After doing so, Snape Apparated to Hogwarts.
In the evening, Hermione would visit Minerva and she would complain about Ron, who left for Romania and left her alone. Snape would smile with satisfaction: his little intrigue proved to be successful. Well, after all, Hermione was his wife, and he wasn't going to give her to another man without a fight. Especially if this other man never really appreciated her.
Snape felt a pang of pity in his heart: not long ago he himself was hardly different from the Weasley, having spent three months out of six on pointless altercations with Hermione. Now he was determined to change everything, but he was bound hand and foot. The rules of time travel forbade changing the course of things, he had already intervened in the past, when he saved Ron's life, now he had to be careful.
The Ball was approaching, at which they would have to look after the younger children crazed from freedom and the older over hormonal teenagers in love, in a word, everything that Snape could not stand with every fiber of his soul. But she would be at the Ball, and this fact slightly lifted his spirits. The main concern remained the same: how could he convince himself to stay away from Hermione? She was his wife after all and Snape hated time travel rules.