Sep 28- Oct 5
Severus Snape was and always will be a self-proclaimed pessimist. He expected the worse and with the life he lived, it was no wonder. Everything that could go wrong in his life usually did and he never met a single person that didn't let him down. Even Dumbledore, a man he admired and respected and now trusted in his adult life, he used to resent. Because he too failed him like everyone else. But his failure was different from the others and much easier to forgive after the first few years. As Headmaster he should have seen how he was going down a darker path while as a teenager. It was no secret that he was involved in the dark arts in his youth. Everyone knew it and he didn't exactly try to hide it. He should have said something or done anything to stop him but instead, he was left all alone.
He was always left alone.
It wasn't always his choice. Most often of the time, he kept to himself and didn't speak to anyone. Even during his childhood, he was reclusive. A lot of that was due to his scraggly appearance and ripped-up clothes. Not to mention that the bruises he often wore courtesy of his father made people believe he was a delinquent. A thought that had continued into adulthood. Though most would no longer describe him as a delinquent but rather a full-fledged criminal. They were in their right mind to assume so.
But now as an adult, it was hard to connect with someone with shared life experiences with his unique resume. At least with the other members of the order, he was connected by the same goal and for some their previous experience fighting in the last war. At least those he didn't find truly annoying and useless. The members of the order he got along with well enough consisted of the shortlist of Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, even Bill Weasley on occasion. He could tolerate Lupin and Tonks but the rest could bugger off for all he cared. Then there was the staff. Despite the open hostilities between their houses he and Minerva were quite good friends. He knew she worried about him. And his increasingly deteriorating health. But she knew not to cuddle him. Then there was Madam Pomphrey and if it wasn't her duty to heal him he would consider her as a friend as well. Though he got along well with Flitwick he knew the man feared him.
The only person he could honestly say that he got along with and could consider a friend if it wasn't for her status as a student was Hermione Granger.
He summoned her down to the lab one evening. Even though it was around 3 in the morning. He couldn't sleep a recurring theme over the last several days. He hadn't been summoned in a while and the anticipation was getting to him. He knew the longer it took the higher chance of him getting punished was. The worry was starting to make a physical appearance. He always seemed to be in a physical state of exhaustion and always had bags under his eyes. No matter how hard he hid them behind glamours he could still see them. He was too tired to give detentions during class opting to simply take away points.
The students weren't any wiser to his odd behaviour. Hermione Granger on the other hand did notice even though she never said anything. When he snapped at her more than usual she didn't talk back as she normally would. She simply left him to figure things out on his own. He didn't know if he was grateful for the silence or would have preferred her to say something. He didn't know anymore what he wanted.
Everything was swirling around him in an uncontrollable storm. He lost any semblance of control and he was spiralling. He was drowning and was desperately trying to swim up for air. But he didn't even know which way was up and down. He found himself second-guessing every decision he made and analyzing every decision he ever made. He tried to escape his head by throwing himself into his work. He only slept when the exhaustion took over and only then it was for a couple of hours. The rest of the time he was teaching, working to defeat the Dark Lord, and brewing. If his duties as a spy didn't take over. He was doing anything he could to stay distracted that he often forgot to even eat. It wasn't healthy but he didn't know what to do. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't see through the fog.
Her words echoed throughout his head: Asking for help isn't a weakness.
He had played with the idea for a while and even as she stood in front of him he wasn't sure what to do with that advice. Normally people would talk about their feelings and problems. But he wasn't most people. He spent so many years bottling up his emotions it was second nature. He didn't know how to describe the last 20 years of emotions he had hidden away. Or where to even start.
She didn't move, didn't speak, only patiently waited for him when he was ready. He paced in front of her for nearly half an hour before he was able to speak. Or to say anything even if it wasn't what he wanted to say. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. So he just started talking.
He told her anything and everything. Everything he hid away and buried deep inside. Well, what he thought was deep inside but in reality, it was just lingering underneath the surface. He started with the facts that they both knew. Anyone bearing the dark mark should be given a 20-year life sentence in Azkaban. The only reason he escaped the same fate as the others was because of his role as a spy and with Dumbledore's avocation. His role as a spy may have saved him from imprisonment, but it didn't spare his conscience or guilt.
"I should have listened to those who said it was a bad idea. At the time all information circulating about the death eaters were just rumours," he said as he recounted from the beginning. The moment the guilt started to take root in his soul. The burden began when he was still a student only slightly younger than she is. "I am truly thankful for all that Dumbledor has done for me. I'm not people's favourite person." Stating a fact that everyone knew too well. "He had always said that everyone deserves a second chance. But I don't think I did".
"You once said that I wasn't the bad guy." He turned to look at her. His hands were folded behind his back. He stood tall and straight. "I'm not entirely sure if I believe it. I have done just the same horrible things as the other death eaters. The only difference being most if not all of the things I have done was while I have been acting as a spy."
"I joined his ranks when I was 17. I am sure you have already made the connection that my relationship with my father was less than ideal. He was a monster and I have been able to survive torture during the death eater meetings because I survived torture with him first. But whatever he did to me was nothing compared to what he did to my mother. I couldn't help her when I was a child. I wasn't strong enough or powerful enough." He found himself bearing his soul to her. He wasn't planning on touching this part of his life but once he started the words seemed to flow through him. Like a damn had been broken and a flood was unleashed. He felt like he was trembling as he spoke but he knew that was all just in his head. Everything was all in his head.
He knew that most people couldn't bear to look into his eyes for too long but she never looked away or flinched at their harshness. "You were right I am not prejudiced like the other death eaters. I joined because of the power they could give me. I would finally be strong enough to save my mother. There is an initiation when you first join the ranks. You have to take a life. I was going to kill my father. I went home during the Christmas break fully prepared to free my mother and myself from him." He spoke low and slow. He looked away from her, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. Feeling the glowing heat course through his body. He always found fire to be a fascinating element. Needed for humans to keep warm and yet it burned. He found himself dragging his words. He was already aware of his story. The highs and lows. Mainly lows and disappointments. But he never thought that he would tell it to another person. Would be given a chance to explain himself. He was always met with harsh judgements and assumptions. "I found both him and my mother dead. Killed in a house fire by smoke inhalation. I believe that my mother did it but I could never be certain." He felt no pain over what occurred over two decades ago. His father's death was inevitable though he assumed it would be by his hand. And his mother's death saddened him at first. But if he was being honest he knew that she died a long time before that and was just a shell of who she once was. He did wish she could have been freed in another way. But at least now she was at peace. If such a thing existed after one died. He would like to believe that there was something beyond this world. Otherwise, what have they been living for? He knew that if peace existed though he would never be able to see it.
He turned to look at her. He could feel his robes swing around him. He knew he must have looked so dejected and lost. He could feel how heavy his eyelids were. How tight his throat felt. "I joined for nothing. I threw away my reputation, credibility, morality and future all for nothing." He choked as he said this.
"Some days the only thing keeping me going is my need to see the Dark Lord's demise. And I worry that if I survive this war that I will have nothing left to live for once he's gone. I started all of this for nothing. And I will have nothing left once it's all over." He started to choke on his raspy voice. He could feel his eyes burning. Turning away from her he gripped his hands behind his back trying to cause some form of pressure to distract himself from the pain. The sensation he was feeling wasn't foreign to him but he never gave in to the sensation. He hadn't cried in years and that wasn't including involuntary tears he experienced when he was in physical pain. He would never let himself be so vulnerable in front of others but in this moment he was okay being vulnerable with her. With being vulnerable with himself. He spent so long trying to be strong. Even when he wasn't he pretended to be until he fooled even himself. Some days even he couldn't see behind his own mask. He couldn't even tell when he was even wearing it. He didn't know what he would find if he took it off.
He didn't remember falling but he somehow found himself seated on the ground. Propped up against the wall. He knew he must have looked like a real mess. His body felt limp and his hair and his face probably resembled that as well. He probably looked more pale than usual. Making his dark features stand out more so than usual. He looked on in front of him without really seeing anything.
He barely noticed that Hermione moved towards him and kneeled down to sit beside him. He could feel her shoulder pressing up against his own. She didn't say anything. But he could feel her saddened gaze upon his face though he didn't look to see it. He didn't want to see such sadness from her eyes. Not again. Not now that he experienced her smile. She reached out and intertwined her hand with his. Feeling her fingers lace through his overwhelmed him. For once in his life, he didn't feel cold. The warmth didn't spread from her hand but came from his own heart. He couldn't remember the last time someone willingly touched him that didn't involve healing him. Her touch was so soft and gentle. He always felt alone even when there were others around him. But in this moment he knew he wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He didn't stop the silent tears from streaming down his face. He just let them fall. And Hermione was right there beside him.
She was always right there beside him.
Even after a week of learning the truth about him. She still stood by his side. Working alongside him as if nothing has changed. And yet everything has. At least for him. He saw her in a completely different light. Even though it was her who should have seen the difference in him.
He never realized how much he could learn about a person until they were forced to work together every day. He learned many things through simple observations but he never realized that by talking to someone he could learn who a person was.
He knew that Hermione was smart, that was a given. Passionate, driven and extremely loyal. He learned these things a long time ago. She was good and fair. But he never realized that she had a darker side. Her words could be sharp and rude when she felt wronged. Her actions even more so. He couldn't help but enjoy the revelation of what she did to Rita Skeeter. Blackmail was more so up his alley than hers. But he has learned over the last several months that she was not to be underestimated. By talking to her he realized that she had a sense of humour. It wasn't the type of humour that was filled with jokes but the type of dry and deadpanned commentary that he appealed to. Especially with how sarcastic he was.
He really got a taste of it when they finally solved the first clue. It wasn't concrete in its instructions but it was progress. If the clue was translated correctly then the location for Hades' dagger was hidden in the Temple of doom. Hidden under a glamour charm that reveals its location only on the full moon. It also warned that one has to go down the hall of endless darkness and face their worst fears before they can retrieve their heart's desire. It was quite ominous and if it wasn't for the seriousness of their situation he would have laughed at the dramatics. Though he shouldn't be the one to talk he did have a certain flare himself.
"So hidden past the hall of horrors is supposed to be the room that reveals the location of the lost artifact," she said this with a large amount of enthusiasm that only she could produce. "Why can't these things ever be easy." Her voice took a quick transition. Suddenly becoming dry and deadpanned as she said this. It surprised him so much that he gave a loud bark of laughter.
She was able to shed light onto parts of himself that he hid in the darkness for so long. He was so distracted by the war that he forgot about the little things in his life he did enjoy. He missed simply sitting by the fireplace and reading a good book just for the joy of reading instead of searching for a solution to a life and death problem. He had been itching to play the piano again even though it's been almost a decade of not playing. He used to go running in the morning and in his youth he was fairly good at fighting. Though he never had a need for muggle self-defence methods he did enjoy the exercise. Talking about family reminded him that it has been too long since he visited his mother's grave. He used to visit the cemetery once a month but it has been over a year since he last went. Though his childhood wasn't good by any means his mother made his childhood bearable and he did owe her a lot. He wasn't sure if she still possessed her magic in her final moments but at one time she was a powerful witch. He remembered how she would tell him stories when he was a boy about her own childhood and magic spells.
"How old were you when you found you were a witch," he asked curiously one day. Besides briefly talking about her brother and her family she never really mentioned her childhood or her years before Hogwarts. Being her professor he was already aware of her experiences at Hogwarts. Maybe not the specifics but he had a general idea.
"I figured out I was different when I was 8 and I accidentally set fire to my mother's gardens," she said sheepishly.
"I see. So you have always had an act for pyromancy." He gave a small smirk at the mention of her first year. Obviously, he was furious when he found out she was the one who set fire to his robes. But now he was impressed with her courage despite the stunt being completely stupid. He was fully aware that she felt bad over what had happened and that her goal was not to harm him.
"Haha," she said dryly. She was mortified when he first mentioned that stunt over the summer. And of course, apologized profusely but he simply waved it off. "I'm sure that there were other incidents when I was a kid but I always played it off like an accident of someone else's doing." He wasn't surprised most muggle-borns weren't completely aware of their magical status until they received their letter. Even when they knew that something was different with them. Most didn't make the connection until their later years. With her being so analytical it made sense.
"Did you always know you were a wizard?"
"Yes, my mother informed me at a young age." Though her informing him was less out of maternal responsibility and more so as a warning. It was best that his father be unaware of that piece of information as long as possible. He was able to hide it for over a year before he found out. "The earliest memory I have of doing magic and consciously being aware of it was when I was six. I ended up making the pipes in the kitchen explode and flooded the kitchen. Luckily my father wasn't home." He didn't intend for his words to make her feel solemn, he only meant to be a matter of fact. The problem being that in his strive to be more open he was opening the closet that held all of his skeletons. And there were many.
After solving the clue and finding what they hope to be the location of the Temple of doom. They had to wait for the full moon in order to go check it out. He toyed with the idea of going alone but he knew that she would never agree to that arrangement. She was too invested now to simply walk away. Even when he mentioned leaving the castle during the upcoming full moon she reacted as he had expected. She began to pace and rant at him. He found it completely amusing. Letting her go on for five minutes before informing her that he had no intention to leave her behind. She was sheepish and embarrassed by her actions but he found it endearing.
He didn't need her to be with her. But he wanted her to. He wanted to work with her. He could have done this by himself if necessary like most things in his life. But now he didn't need to be alone.
Even now he was rarely alone. Their little side project did take up a lot of his time. It wasn't unusual for them to spend hours during the school week working together. Or spending the majority of the day and night during a weekend in each other's presence. The only interruptions they had was when the Headmaster occasionally popped in to see how they were making progress. But he suspected that he was checking in to make sure the two of them didn't kill one another. He was well in his right to assume that. They did get off on a rocky start not just in their partnership but also over the last six years. Then there was the fact that both of them can be very headstrong and not always agree with one another. Leading to disagreement ranging from minor to hoarse throats. Then of course her mangy cat stumbled in every now and then much to their confusion. The door was always locked with magic and only the three of them had access through his wards. The lab did have a fireplace connected to the floo network but it was not connected to the Headgirl's rooms nor was it possible for a cat to use that mode of transportation. It required vocalizing a location. But they didn't give it too much thought and after a while, he too became accustomed to the feline's appearance. Though he wasn't a huge animal lover he did prefer cats over other species. Mostly due to their independence and intelligence and hers was even more clever with being half-kneazle.
He didn't realize how well acquainted she became with his private lab until one day he stumbled upon some books that she must have left behind. He enjoyed how well-read she was in not only magical books but muggle ones as well. Not many of his acquaintances were familiar with these stories and it was nice having someone who also shared his love of literature to discuss them with. They didn't waste time when they were researching but sometimes they both needed to take a step back to gain a new perspective. She wasn't always reading books about academia. Most of the time she read History or mystery novels. Though she did read a fantasy one here and there. He questioned her about it one day. Her response being that she had a nact for history and solving puzzles and that she used to apply those things in the real world as a child. But after coming to Hogwarts and solving mysteries became life-threatening they lost their appeal. She was actually thankful for their research since it reminded her about something she used to love that she had forgotten when she got caught up in the magical world.
He was pleased to have been of some assistance. Besides the knowledge that was growing through their research, she seemed to be enjoying herself despite being in his company. Every day he seemed to learn something new about her. Whether that be that she stood on her toes to raise her height, or how despite how neat her notes were she could be quite messy. Surrounding herself with books and loose parchment often having to search through the items around her to find the one she was looking for. She didn't drink coffee no matter how tired she was because she would get a huge energy spike and practically bounce off the walls and have a morning headache. For instance despite her name being mentioned in A Winter's Tale she wasn't a huge fan of Shakespeare despite him being considered one of the greatest writers in history.
"No, absolutely not. No Romeo and Juliet," Hermione said with a shake of her head. Whenever she moved her hair would bounce around her and it made Severus want to reach out and touch it. To pull a strand out and watch it curl back up. The urge became more prominent whenever she threw her head back or tilted it to the side leaving her neck exposed.
"You hate Romeo and Juliet. And here I thought you were a hopeless romantic," he teased. They were taking a break from work and were seated on the two-person couch. Even though they couldn't really move forward with their work until after the full moon they still found themselves lingering in the lab. He had one arm propped up along the top. Unfortunately, his shoulder was paining him. For some reason, people tended to favour his right shoulder when it came to dislocating his arm. It was getting late at night. Well at this point early in the morning when he looked at his watch. They were both stalling, calling this evening over and going different ways. But it was a weekend and no one would question if they didn't make a presence until later in the day.
"You're mocking me."
"Now why would I ever do such a thing?" He smirked at her fake annoyance. She adjusted her position and hiked one leg up to her chest. Putting her elbow on her jean-clad knee as she leaned her head onto her hand. Her clothes were of rich dark colours making her skin appear like it's glowing in contrast. She looked so relaxed in his presence. It was refreshing to see that over people's normal nervousness while in his presence. "I figured you out of anyone would have an appreciation for Shakespear what with a name like Hermione."
"I don't mind Shakespeare and enjoy most of his work. I just hate Romeo and Juliet." A smile grew on her face. It seemed as though she wasn't used to talking with someone who related to her love of reading.
"But seriously love at first sight is simply falling in love with an image or concept. You can't fall in love in three days." She rolled her eyes at this statement. He knew from talking to her and observing her and her classmates that she wasn't exactly on the best footing with the other females of this school or even her roommates. Often preferring to be around the male populace. But males did tend to be more blind-sighted when it came to romantic emotions especially at her age. Then no doubt most of the young females would find the concept of forbidden love romantic and intriguing. Instead of it being problematic as love tended to be. Clearly, she didn't share the sentiment.
"I completely agree. How long would you say it would take for two individuals to fall in love?" He was curious about her answer. He knew that she was still relatively young even though she was an adult. But he figured that she has never been in love. He never heard any gossip over her being in a long-term relationship. The only expedition being in her fourth year where she was seen several times with Viktor Krum. If anything the two had a short innocent fling before he returned back to Bulgaria. He wasn't sure if they remained in contact.
"I would go on a guess and say two months."
.
"Only two?" He wondered where she got that number from. There were no studies that he has read that explicitly say how long it takes for love to take root in two individuals. Or how long it takes to get over love. He did look into the subject matter a long time ago.
Giving him a sheepish smile. "Of course it also depends on factors such as how long the two are together and how long it takes to get one another personally. If the two were already friends or knew each other then I would easily say only a month. But if they were strangers then anywhere from two to three months." He couldn't help but look deeply into her eyes as she said this. Her eyes were always so hypnotizing. Even though they were brown they glowed with hints of fire. They were so close that if he wanted to he could reach out and brush her hair behind her ear. She was the first one to disconnect their eyes.
He winced softly when he moved his arm. He had been trying to roll a kink out for days. But to no such luck. He almost flinched when he felt a hand press upon his shoulder. Looking to his right he saw Hermione had put her hand on her shoulder.
Looking back at her face she didn't seem to realize what she was doing. Until she pulled her hand back suddenly and placed it into her lap. "Sorry I didn't even think about it. I do that all the time with Harry and Ron"
All he could do was nod. He didn't know what hurt more the ache in his shoulder or the ache he felt when she stopped touching him. In a way, he was flattered that she would act on the same level of comfort with him as she did with her friends. But for some reason, it also hurt.
It was hard now getting to know her to not fall helplessly in love with her. That was not to say that he was developing romantic feelings for her. Only that he was attracted to her mind and intelligence. No doubt she also found his intelligence attractive compared to her moronic classmates. They had a connection. That was obvious. He just couldn't decipher if it was their shared goal or their common interests. She was the epitome of goodness. And perhaps it was because he desired good in his life when all he saw was the bad. Nonetheless, he could control his feelings. He may experience them but luckily he has other problems to deal with that override his attraction to her.
Attraction doesn't mean love.
Strong feeling yes, but not love.