He managed to push Hern from his mind eventually, not because he was able to rise above their petty bickering, but rather, due to a major distraction named Harry Potter.
Early on Friday, as he was desperately longing for the weekend, Filius managed to corner him in the corridor to inform him that Potter had scheduled a visit for that very afternoon.
After the war, when the old Death Eaters, him included, were put on trial for war crimes, Potter had miraculously managed to reduce his sentence without revealing to the word the private memories that he had given up when he was bitten by Nagini. It went with a prize though, as the Ministry had conditioned that he was to be supervised for an indefinite time, having to report all his activities to the Auror Office, and not being allowed to leave the country.
He was not supposed to announce them of course, but ever since Potter had insisted upon taking on the role as Severus' probation officer, he had somehow managed to let slip to Filius the odd hint about when these meetings were to take place.
Having Potter in that position certainly eased the burden. But it went with an awkward sort of gratitude for Severus, who hated them with a passion, always having felt deeply suspicious towards the Ministry in general, and the Auror force in particular.
That day, there was also a feeling of lingering fatigue, which had bothered him all week. It was as though he was about to come down with the flu, and it made him count the minutes of each lesson he had to teach.
So after the chat with Filius, he felt like caving in already, unknowing that his day was about to take a turn for the worse.
He managed alright through his morning classes though, up until the last set that afternoon, which were the sixth-year Slytherin-Gryffindors. He took mental roll call as they reluctantly entered the classroom, everyone squeezing in as far to the back as possible.
They were supposed to make Euphoria that double lesson and after he had put the recipe on the chalkboard with instructions to prepare the shrivelfigs, he went to the storage closet in the back to pick out some wormwood, which needed to be added freshly from the containers to preserve the moisture. He was leaning out from the ladder, with an arm hooked around its side when suddenly a dark shape emerged soundlessly from the top shelf.
The jar he held fell to the floor with a crash.
Time seemed to stop as Nagini slithered towards him, the slit pupils in her eyes glowing red in the darkness. Absurdly, all he could think about was that the wormwood, which was the last batch he had left, was ruined and that the students would not be able to do their allotted work.
Then, the snake shifted and moulded, transforming into the cruel, emotionless face of the Dark Lord.
It had been almost thirteen years since he saw him last. Severus' throat tingled from flesh memory and his ears were ringing with the cold, but simple word: 'Kill.'
He nearly did die that day, twelve years ago, the doctors telling him that for some time, he had indeed passed beyond the veil. It was his most terrifying nightmare that the Dark Lord might one day return and call upon his old Death Eaters and it was still a nervous habit of his to examine the Dark Mark at length on sleepless nights, attempting reassure himself that it stayed faded-grey and inert.
Sometimes, when he felt particularly brave, he would whisper to himself in the dark the dreaded name, 'Voldemort,' waiting anxiously for the unthinkable to happen. Yet it never did, the marred skin on his lower left arm stayed blessedly pale and apart from the lingering phantom pain, nothing had happened when he called upon his old master.
Until now.
He staggered on the ladder, instinctively taking a step back into nothing. He tumbled and fell to the floor, slamming hard against the opposite wall.
When he regained his senses, a young voice behind him snickered.
"Ridiculus."
The depraved half-man, half-snake, coiled in on itself like a wheel and rolled off, vanishing to the depths of the top shelf from where it came.
Severus turned his head. Behind him stood Granville Jorkins; wand raised and a mischievous expression on his face, a sixth-year Gryffindor with an attitude to rival even that of Edward Lupin.
With some difficulty in the narrow space, Severus climbed awkwardly to his feet, supporting himself on the closet door.
"I'd never thought you wouldn't recognise a boggart, Profess…" Jorkins trailed off, the grin on his face fading. "Oh… You don't look so good…"
The boy took hold beneath his arm, but Severus pushed him back harshly. He was more shaken by the incident than he had any right to be, especially since he had been perfectly aware of which shape his boggart would most likely take.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed at the disgruntled student. "You half-witted imbecile. Return to your seat this instant!"
Jorkins threw him a dirty look and slinked away, probably eager to tell his classmates all about their teacher's inaptitude. Severus gritted his teeth against the humiliation and glanced towards the top shelf.
It wasn't unusual for boggarts to lodge themselves in the plentiful nooks and crannies of Hogwarts, especially in the Dungeons, and the teachers regularly allotted part of their night patrol duties to search through the halls and classrooms in hunt of unwanted guests.
Being surprised by one in his own cupboard though, which he frequented on a daily basis, was an entirely different matter, and he did have a suspicion about who might have placed it there…
He pulled out his wand to trap the creature in a reinforced flagon before he returned to the classroom. Instead of Euphoria, he assigned a long and complex essay and predictably, the disappointed students complained and scowled at him for the duration of the horrible, endless lesson. He docked points and assigned detentions east and west, creating so much work for Filch that it would probably be the topic of many a heated staff meeting to come.
When the day was finally over, he was assaulted by Potter's cheerful face, waiting for him by the entrance to his rooms.
"How are you, Severus?" Potter wore his red Auror robes, signifying the official nature of his errand.
"I'm well, Potter." Severus inclined his head, confident that all traces of the boggart incident were vanished from his clothing. "And yourself? Children healthy?"
"Little Albus turned two last month," said Potter, shaking his unruly black hair from his face. "Ginny is already nagging me about having another. She wants a girl, of course. But I'm not certain if I'm ready yet…"
Severus opened the door to his quarters, gesturing Potter inside. "Surely you're not going to refuse her?" he asked off-hand. He flicked his wand towards the fireplace to get some much needed heat and light. "I rather think you should consider yourself lucky…"
"Do you?" Potter looked at him curiously, as though he was suddenly observing something new about him. Severus frowned.
"I hear you've become quite friendly with Rose…?"
He busied himself with making tea for three. "Indeed."
"She's a wonderful kid. Bright and clever. Takes after Hermione a lot." Potter removed his cloak, tossing it over the back of the sofa before settling comfortably in his usual seat. "But I never pictured you as someone who would…"
He trailed off, watching Severus as he flooed the Headmaster's office to inform Filius that they were ready.
"That I would what, Potter?"
"I don't know. I just-" Potter shrugged. "I had no idea you actually liked children, and now it almost seems as though you…"
"Never." Severus felt the corners of his mouth pull down. "I'd never want that," he said quietly. "I wouldn't wish such a fate upon any child."
Potter's eyes widened. "Why not? I think you'd be a great father." He grinned. "Maybe you'd have to work a little on your whole 'I'm so big and scary, I'll eat you for supper if you breathe too loudly'-act, but otherwise…"
Despite himself, Severus almost had to smile. Potter's imitation of his own drawling voice was not half-bad, especially when coupled with a twitchy scowl and him staring down his nose.
"Shut it, you twit. That's not the same at all." Severus turned as the floo flashed green, but not before pointing his finger at Potter in warning. "If you don't watch it, I'll slip a Blabbering Beverage in your tea and release you in the Slytherin Dormitories. Not that you'd need it."
"Poisoning Potter already, Severus?" piped Filius. He stamped his feet to get rid of the soot. "And here I was, thinking you had reformed."
"Filius," said Potter, getting up to shake his hand. "Pleasure, as always."
"Likewise." Filius went over to the kitchenette to grab a tall stool. It brought his head nearly on level with Severus' own. "I'm sorry I don't have time to cat today," he said, "I've got another meeting before dinner."
"No problem." Potter smiled at Severus. "This won't take long. In fact, I have some news for you I think you're really going to like."
"What is it?" Severus had to stop his foot from tapping nervously on the floor. The atmosphere of these meetings were usually casual and friendly, but there was always a nagging doubt in the back of his head, an ever-present suspicion that the Ministry might have discovered something about him. Something incriminating… He was also well aware that a fair few of the parents and some of the Board wouldn't mind seeing him disappear from Hogwarts for good.
"Don't fret," said Potter, watching him. "I told you the news are good. In fact, people at the Ministry are very pleased with recent developments." He looked at Filius. "With Severus back in his old post and released from Head duties, they feel that he can do little more than assign horribly long essays and dock the occasional house point. They think that this situation is satisfactory as long as the amount of complaints stay the same."
"What does that mean?" asked Filius.
"I asked the Head of Law Enforcement yesterday," said Potter with a pleased expression on his face. "On the condition that Severus' position don't change, it is very likely that an application for a pardon will be granted."
Severus heart gave an odd lurch.
"Really?"
"Yes." Potter calmly sipped his tea. "I told you we'd get there eventually, Severus. Took a little longer than I had hoped, but…" He shrugged. "All is well that ends well, right?"
Filius clapped his hands together. "That's wonderful!" He beamed. "Good on you, Severus. I'm delighted on your behalf."
"Yes…" Severus found himself lost for words, almost numbed towards the overwhelming sense of relief. He had been guarding his steps so closely for years, and now... He didn't know what to think anymore. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, awfully resembling guilt…
When they were done, Severus walked Potter to the Entrance Hall to see him off.
"Well," said Potter, "much as I'd like to stick around, I won't delay you any longer. I'm sure you'd like to get something to eat."
"Yes." Severus sighed. "Thank you."
Potter chuckled. "I'm amazing. I know."
"You're not half-bad." Severus snorted. "But you don't need your old Potions teacher to tell you that. You're perfectly aware of it already."
"I'm very happy to call myself your favourite parole officer, Severus." Potter took his hand and squeezed it. "Until next time then. Unless you feel inclined to take us up on our standing invitation?"
Severus shifted. During their walk down the corridor, he'd had a feeling of being watched, and he would rather keep their interaction short where they might be overheard.
"I'm forever your humble servant, Potter," he muttered, with equal amounts of sarcasm and regard. "But we both know that I make a poor dinner companion. Please pass on my greetings to the Missus."
Potter grinned, a strange mix of Lily and James blending into something that was uniquely different from the both of them. Maybe even better. "I will," he said, "as always. Take care."
Severus nodded and turned to leave, but as he rounded the nearest corner, a dark shape slinked out from behind a suite of armour to walk beside him.
"I never imagined you'd be friendly with the saviour of wizarding Britain," said Cavan Hern, watching him with an inscrutable expression. "Might I inquire as to the occasion for such a royal visitor?"
"You again?" said Severus, shaking his head. "Haven't you tired of me already?"
Hern chuckled. "I'm naturally curious," he said. "It goes with my profession." He arched an eyebrow. "Both of them, in fact."
"Does it now?" Severus stopped before the stair leading down to the Dungeons and put a hand in his pocket. "You know, Hern, you're probably the most bothersome person I've ever met, and I include Potter in that count. I don't see what him paying a visit to Hogwarts has to do with you at all."
"No?" Hern watched Severus' pocket with narrowed eyes. "Then what is all this I hear about you being on parole, hm?"
"That is not, and will never be, any of your concern," he said. "But now that you're here, there is actually something I've been meaning to give to you..."
He pulled his hand out of his coat, extracting the small flask he had put there earlier in the day.
Hern tensed visibly at the movement and Severus begrudgingly had to allow him credit for not drawing arms. They watched each other for several heartbeats, the flagon laying innocently between them in Severus' palm.
"So," said Hern, his mouth twitching slightly at the corner, "What's this?"
Curiously, he did not seem overly triumphant, and the glint in his eye was amused rather than mocking.
"Don't you recognise a simple boggart?" asked Severus, surprised to find some of his previous anger diminishing. "I thought you were the Defence expert here."
"Of course I do." Hern smiled full on. "What's the occasion?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "It appeared mysteriously in my storage room this afternoon. If I hadn't known better, I could almost have sworn that someone placed it there intentionally…"
"That's preposterous," said Hern, his eyes widening in pretend indignation. "The students really seem to have it in for you, old boy. It must have something to do with your dazzling and generous disposition." He grinned, patting Severus on the back. "Don't take it too personally. They are probably just jealous."
Severus pushed the jar closer to Hern. "So," he growled, "do you want it or not? Your third-years will need one pretty soon, won't they? Save yourself some time."
Hern eyed him suspiciously. "What did you do to it?"
"Nothing." He shrugged. "Take it."
Instead of accepting the flagon, Hern pulled out his wand to cast a series of revealing spells on it, watching Severus' expression the whole time. The frown between his eyes grew as each of them returned a blank result.
"It's just a boggart..."
"I told you so." Severus sighed. He was too tired to fight, and engaging in open war with Hern would look very bad on Potter's record file, especially after the news he had just received.
"I really thought I had you down," said Hern, taking the flask from him. "Then again, as I just learned, there's more to you than I first assumed, isn't there?" He hummed to himself, tracing the engraved patterns on the glass with a finger before he looked Severus in the eye.
"Are you sure you don't want to back off," he said quietly. "Without excessive bragging, I can easily say that I've got one over you in the looks department." He frowned. "Surely you realise that you don't stand a chance?"
It was a genuine offer of truce, with the usual chains accompanying all such things. On a different day, Severus might have taken him up on it and lived peacefully ever after, but just then, his mind was far away from Hern…
Instead of replying, he turned on his heel and stalked down the stairs, leaving the young man behind to watch his back disappear to the darkness.
Nearly dying does some strange things to people and it was the same with forgiveness, even if it was partly undeserved. After the earlier conversation with Potter, Severus was suddenly, and with startling clarity, able to place the feeling that took hold of him whenever he was around Rose.
After his year as Headmaster, he had counted himself lucky to be granted access to the school. He had not expected anyone to allow him near their children ever again, yet here he was. Maybe soon a free man… And one that wanted a child, any child, to call his own…
Contrary to what he told Potter, he didn't go to dinner that evening, but ordered a meal to be had in his own quarters.
But his day wasn't over and he never got the chance to eat it. The moment he sat in his chair, he knew what was coming, what had been festering in him the entire week.
Maybe he should have seen it sooner. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.
His eyelids drooped.
The room was too warm and his limbs were too heavy and he suddenly found himself short of breath.
It felt like an invisible boot stepped down on his chest…
Monday evening, on the first day of Rose's time with Ron, Hermione decided to pay him a visit.
She had been preoccupied the second week of term, kept more than busy trying to curb an outbreak of a vomiting bug that spread like wildfire among the Ravenclaws. Over the weekend, however, and as the House Elves had put in extra efforts to de-contaminate the West Tower, the pressure of students requesting Borborygmys potion in the Infirmary had lessened and she was finally able to breathe more freely.
She had overheard Filius talking to Neville at dinner, discussing Severus, who had called in sick the previous Friday.
"Neville," Filius had said, stretching to peer over a large bowl of pea and ham soup, which obscured his view of the Deputy Headmaster. "Would you be so kind as to cover Potions tomorrow? Severus told me he needs another day and I understand you have the curriculum under reasonable control?"
"No problem." Neville replied with a smile. "I'm glad to use an opportunity to impress upon them the importance of Herbology." He hesitated. "Is it something serious, or…"
"Headcold," said Filius. "Poor chap seems rather susceptible, especially at this time of year. He should count himself lucky he's stayed away from the Ravenclaws." He winked at Michael Corner, who still looked a little green around the edges. "I'm sure Severus will be grateful to you, Neville."
Neville had shrugged half-heartedly, but Hermione's mind was already made up. Skipping pudding, she walked to the Dungeons after a detour by her own, empty quarters, where she spent an embarrassingly long time to decide which jumper to wear.
She found it curious that Severus kept away from the Hospital Wing if he was ill, but then again, he was probably well stocked on any old potion he would need against a simple cold. So what if he hadn't come to see her? Maybe he was just a little skittish around healers and hospitals. It would be understandable since his stay in St. Mungo's had been quite protracted after the war.
His rooms were close to the classroom used for Potions and as for all of the teacher's flats, the entrance was invisible to anyone apart from the Hogwarts staff. She knocked three times and opened the door a sliver of a fraction to peek inside.
"Severus?"
The sitting room, directly accessible through the entrance, was a mirror image of her own. It had standard furniture and a window facing into the Black Lake, where a school of tiny silver fish flitted in and out of the yellow-green weeds that grew on the bottom.
She noticed something hidden beneath a clever disillusionment charm on the kitchen counter, and a vaguely familiar odour in the room, mixing with that of books and burning tallow and what she had come to recognise as Severus' own, natural scent.
He rested on the sofa in front of the fireplace, seemingly taken completely off-guard because he made the most peculiar little sound of surprise in the back of his throat when he recognised her. There was an open book on his stomach and it slid to the floor when he jerked to raise himself up on an elbow.
"Hermione?" His voice was thicker than usual. She took a tentative step forward.
"Hi there," she said softly. "Mind if I come in?"
He nodded and sat up, fumbling to straighten the short-sleeved undershirt he wore. It was apparent that he did not know what to do with himself when caught in such an exposed position. Feeling like an intruder, she tried not to look at the faded Dark Mark on his left underarm or the raised, jagged scars from Nagini's bite that crossed his throat and disappeared beneath his collar. They both made something painful tighten in her throat.
"Filius mentioned you had a cold," she said lightly, swallowing the uneasy feeling and closing the door behind her back, "and here I was, thinking you had never taken a sick day in your life…"
"I know." He grimaced, revealing a set of crooked, yellowing teeth. "I'm sorry about the mess." He gestured to the coffee table, which hosted an abundance of abandoned teacups and magazines.
She smiled while secretly studying him with her healer's eye. The tone of his skin, which was sallow even on his best days, tended towards the sickly grey she usually associated with poor oxygenation of the blood.
"Don't mind that," she said kindly. "I live with Rose, I know everything there is to know about clutter. Surely, you know that too by now."
She crossed the floor to sit beside him, keenly aware that this was the closest she had ever been to him. So apparently, was he, because he watched her warily as she took in the way his hair was tucked behind his ears, which made some tousled grey strands of hair stand out, especially around his temples where the black was nearly completely eradicated.
She had never paid much attention to his appearance in her schooldays, too busy fretting over her grades, or Harry, or Ron. She had not even known his eye colour, though Harry had once, and with youthful melodrama, described them to her as 'black wells of hatred'. Now, though, they were less than three feet apart and she could see in his eyes –which were dark brown - something her childhood self had lacked the experience and maturity to recognise. It was the insecurity of someone who had been kicked in the teeth one time too many. Severus had probably never been good enough. She could see that clearly now, and her heart went out to him, from one overachiever to the next. She almost regretted making him uncomfortable, but that feeling warred with the desire to become so close to him that he would not mind her seeing his vulnerable sides.
But there was also a vague nagging at the back of her skull, telling her that there was something slightly off about this illness of his, that there had to be more to it than just a mere cold…
"Tea?" he offered, obviously very tired.
"Don't get up. I shan't stay long." She looked towards the kitchen. "What's the smell?" she asked. "Are you brewing Pepper-up?"
He stilled. "No, that's…"
"Is it for you?" She frowned, reaching out to touch his forehead, which felt hot and clammy. "I can tell you're not doing so well. Would you like me to cast a diagnostic?"
"No!"
She was suddenly glad she had not taken out her wand, because he pushed down her arm with unexpected ferocity and stood.
"No. I- Don't."
She pulled away quickly, taken aback by the sudden outburst.
"Alright…if you're sure…" She watched as he rubbed a hand over his face before he sank back down in his seat, his breathing slightly erratic.
"Forgive me," he said after a moment, looking up at her. "I didn't mean to frighten you. It's nothing, really. I'll be back to teaching tomorrow."
"That's good…" She shrugged it off, even though she was a little hurt. "Just let me know if you need anything…"
"I don't." He shook his head and folded his hands in his lap. "I've got… I can make the potions I need."
"Oh, I know." She clutched the beaded bag she had brought along, feeling a little silly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought…I don't know, if you wanted a book from the library or a specific sort of biscuit or something… I've…"
She cautiously reached out to poke him in the knee. "Rose drew a get-well card for you…she misses you."
His eyes softened, some of the tension giving way to a kind of tentative apprehension.
"She does?"
"Yes. She's been asking about you at every odd turn. She, err…" Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the card and a wrapped parcel. "We made you some sweets and everything. I hope you like caramel?"
He gave her an odd look, the frown line between his eyes deepening.
"They're home-made," she hurried to say. "It's Molly Weasley's recipe and she's excellent with confections, and cakes, and oh, with anything I suppose. But you probably know that already. Surely you must have sampled a meal of hers at one point or another?"
He stared and she slowly came to realise that he probably hadn't. "Well," she babbled on, "I guess it's about time then. I'm obviously not her, but I personally think they turned out pretty well, all things considering. The first plate burned and maybe I overdid it slightly with the sugar, but they do taste good. Very sweet, but good."
Severus took the card from her, blinking several times as he read Rose's juvenile attempts at writing and traced a thumb over the crooked drawing of a man with long hair and a hooked nose.
"You did all that for me?"
"Isn't that what friends do?" Hermione chuckled nervously. "Who else would we cook caramels for? The Bloody Baron?" She leaned in to point at the drawing. "That is supposed to be you, by the way. Obviously, your head isn't attached directly to your belly and your knees couldn't possibly bend like that, but otherwise I think she's nailed you."
He sat very still for a moment, hiding his expression and leaving her hanging to chew on a fingernail, but it pleased her when he opened the parcel to take a caramel. He closed his eyes briefly as he took a bite.
"Mm."
"I know." She released a breath and took one for herself as well. "Rose had four or five of these yesterday. Made her so restless that I had to appparate to Harry's to let her spend some time with little James." She rolled her eyes. "That boy has a bell on every tooth and he's even more energetic than her. Poor Ginny. They played 'hippogriff' until half past seven in the evening. Couldn't hear my own thoughts, my ears were ringing so much from all the noise they made."
The irony of that statement suddenly stood out to her like a sore thumb. Severus had probably been sleeping peacefully until she arrived to chatter his ears off…
"I'm sorry." She winced. "I do tend to go on a bit when I'm… Well, anyway. I'll let you in peace, you do look like you could use some rest..."
"Wait." He surprised her by reaching out to touch her upper arm lightly. "Did you mean that?" he asked, swiftly removing his fingers.
"Yes, I…" She frowned, looking down at his hands, which had returned to the safety of his lap. "Did I mean what?"
"That we're…friends?"
"Oh." She chuckled. "Of course I do, I…err, I mean, if you're amenable, of course. I know I can be a bit too-"
"I am," he said quickly. "Amenable… Please stay."
She couldn't have stopped a smile from spreading on her face even if she had wanted to. "That's wonderful," she said, averting her eyes and feigning nonchalance, "because I brought you this as well…" She pulled a newspaper out of her bag. "It's The Prophet from this morning. A load of drivel, I know, but I figured you'd be bored."
She looked up at him and as their eyes met, and there, for a fleeting second at the corners of his eyes, were the crinkles she had come to appreciate so much. She took a deep breath.
"I'll read it for you, if you'd like. Unless you're too tired?"
"You wouldn't mind?" He seemed almost shy, his eyes flitting back and forth between her hands and her face. "I know you must have much more important things to do than waste your time down here..."
"Don't be silly, Severus. I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to." She quickly looked away, busying herself with the front page. "So what do you want to hear about first? The 'Witch Wonder Scandal'… 'ghost's demands for housing benefits' or," she pointed at the top story, "the scheduled release from Azkaban?"
He slowly relaxed into the sofa, resting his head against the back. "Azkaban."
"Alright, then." She turned to the right page and shifted a little closer to him so that he could see the moving image of Minister Shacklebolt.
Inadvertently, the outside of her knee touched his thigh. Holding herself very still, she watched as his fingers twitched slightly. There was an odd feeling in her stomach and it was both powerful and strange.
"So, the Death Eaters who were imprisoned after the fall of You-Know-Who are to be released next year." She cleared her voice, which had become slightly lower than normal. "There has been some debate at the Ministry over how to handle the security measures and whether or not they should have their wands returned…"
She skipped over a large section where the vivacious journalist graciously offered some of his own opinions and resumed her reading at the interview with the Minister. "Well apparently," she said, "Shacklebolt has decided that they shall not. And also that they shan't be allowed to do magic at all, for obvious reasons…"
She continued to read until the end, not noticing before she had finished that Severus had fallen asleep next to her.
Floored, she watched him for a moment, listening to his soft snores and deep breathing before quietly folding up the paper and putting it on the coffee table along with the sweets and Rose's card.
Then she conjured a knitted blanket from her own rooms and draped it over him, careful not to disturb him. She brushed some hair from his face, smiling to herself at the way it was cut a little unevenly and squeezed his shoulder gently before she reluctantly left his flat, closing the door soundlessly behind her back.