~P.S. Yay! Going to see CoS for the third time tomorrow ::throws hands up in joy!:: Look, I saw this on a billboard in Times Square today, at the Parade, and thought of HP: (OvO) it's supposed to be an owl (use the 'v' as his nose!) Yeah, I know it was incredibly lame, but I really couldn't resist posting it after seeing it there today! Forgive Me.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of his wonderful little friends. The only thing that is mine is this sad little plot. Anything recognizable belongs to Ms. Rowling who I hope never finds out what we're doing to her innocent little creations (Hehehehe!!) (Wow I used the word 'little' in every sentence—creepy)
Chapter 8
As Gentle Day
The pale almost sickly morning light of winter was all that Hermione needed to wake her from an uncommonly pleasant dream that had overtaken her in the last most potent hours of her sleep. She recalled a man; tall, dark hair, and no visible scars that interrupted the flow of his most noble forehead—laced by gentle wrinkles, perhaps from years of arduous study, but smooth and inviting none the less.
"Severus," she whispered almost inaudibly to the frozen still room, only half-lit by the mornings waning light. Shivering as she felt the air on the bare skin of her forearms, Hermione threw herself back into the downy fluffing of her pillows and pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin, cuddling into the warmest spot under the duvet.
Staring up at the delicate creases of red fabric that created the canopy of her four-poster, she tried to pretend that she was in the dark as to why, every night since their meeting in his chambers a week ago, she had been dreaming about Severus Snape; fraught by the thought that she knew perfectly well why these particular dreams were always so pleasing.
"Damnit!" she huffed into the air, leaving swirling wisps of hot breath floating before her face. It had only been a couple of months since she had ended her relationship with Harry, claiming that she needed to be herself, and she was already thinking about another man. And not just any man at that, but her former Professor who was likely old enough to be her father—although, he certainly didn't look that old. Tactfully avoiding the matter at hand, she laid a few moments trying to calculate his exact age. She knew that Harry's parents had been 18 when they had him, and Severus had been in the same year as them, therefore he had to be at least 18 years older than her. Although, if she was really going for exact, rationalization ages, he was only 15 years older than her—Hermione being 3 years older than her actual age by use of the Time Turner that she had given up for her Fourth Year, but promptly taken up directly again in her remaining years. Firmly settled on him being 15 years her senior, the thought of Harry was soon conjured up once again.
But Severus wasn't like Harry, a stressed area of her mind pleaded. He didn't want her to be something that she wasn't—he didn't want her to be his trophy wife, she doubted that he wanted her as a wife at all…probably not even a lover. This was all quite stupid really; she wasn't even in any sort of relationship with the man. She'd only met him a few times since she had come back and while those had been the most pleasant times she had experienced in the past five years or so, they didn't automatically add up to love, or that he was feeling anything but a decrease in annoyance by her. So she was back where she started; burrowed between the covers of her bed in an absurdly cold little room completely alone. Only as an after thought did she turn over and look at the calendar hanging on the wall nearest her bed.
"December 24th?" she groaned disbelievingly. No, she didn't think that she could handle being this depressed when everyone around her was intent to make 'merry'—they would all have to just bugger off, she wasn't going to even get out of this bed today. Grabbing her wand off the side-table, she set a small fire ablaze in the fireplace opposite the end of her bead, placed a warming charm on the rest of the room, and summoned for a House Elf to send up a breakfast tray which, within minutes, was sitting, steaming with delicious food, at the foot of the bed.
The eggs and muffins were divinity manifested—she'd never tasted anything so wonderful. She was sure that somewhere, there was a House Elf who sole specialization was thinking up meals that seemed to make even the lowest of people feel a little less dreary in the morning. Although, chuckling lightly, she didn't imagine that even King Henry's feast could make Snape a more pleasant morning person. In a decidedly smart move, Hermione made a firm agreement with the ramped parts of her mind, not to think of Snape until after lunch.
Severus Snape was troubled. Not that that was anything particularly surprising considering his disposition, but that which was troubling this morning, and had been since the night of he and Hermione's meeting a week ago, was not something that he was especially accustomed to. He shivered, drawing his heavier winter robes closer around his body as he moved swiftly through the frozen and peaceably silent corridors. It was far too damn cold in this castle, every morning seeming more frigid than the last. For the sake of Merlin, he could feel his nose becoming a chink of ice, being positive that upon his arrival in Albus Dumbledore's office, there would be some sort of completely untactful and 'highly delightful' (as the joker himself considered it) comment about his resemblance to a muggle flying moose, or something to that effect that always seemed to entertain him to no end during this time of year. Severus would shake his head, avoiding the twinkling eyes that seemed to find so much amusement in all of life. He only wished that he could take everything so light-heartedly.
Coming to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, Snape was not surprised to see the Headmaster himself—standing next to the gargoyle, sucking thoughtfully on what he only supposed was a sherbert lemon or other such confectionary trash.
"Ah, Severus," the elderly wizard pronounced, swallowing the candy before smiling brightly, "I expected that I would be seeing you sometime this morning." The hideous stone creature swung aside and Dumbledore gestured for Severus to go ahead first.
"I had no doubt that you would have, Albus," Severus answered shortly before following the winding staircases up into the Headmaster's office. It was decorated in a variety of reds and greens and golds for the Christmas season. As he scanned to the corner, Severus saw that even Fawkes hadn't escaped the force that was Albus Dumbledore and tinsel—his perch was practically luminescent with the silver glint. "I see that you have kept things tasteful as always." Albus simply chuckled before sitting in the large chair behind his desk.
"Yes, well, I suppose that I did go a bit overboard, but I do believe that this is truly the most 'magical' time of the year." Severus twitched uncomfortably in his chair, all this gild was making him nervous, besides the fact that he had just witnessed a blatant admittance from the Great Dumbledore that his holiday decorations may border on the over-zealous—you were usually more likely to get Draco Malfoy to kiss Harry. This brought him back to the matter at hand.
"Listen Albus, as much as I would love to sit here and chat about the 'do's and do not's' of holiday paraphernalia, I've come here with a slightly more pressing question." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me…any of us about…."
"Because it wasn't my story to tell. If Mr. Potter felt that it had been necessary to tell the staff, he would have," Dumbledore cut in poignantly, leaving Snape with the disconcerting feeling of someone whom everyone knew everything about. Of course Albus knew what he was going to say! Severus above all others should have recalled just how annoying talking with Albus could be. It didn't mean that he had to like it though.
"But, you allowed me to go on…treating him that way I mean. Albus, you know that I wouldn't have said some of those things if I had known."
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said through twinkling eyes and smiling lips. "I know that you are not 'all heatless' as the student body here assumes, Severus. I allowed you to berate Harry because I believe that it humanized his time here at Hogwarts. You never singled him out…Oh, no…not making him feel special like the rest of us did. You're treatment of him put him on the same level as every other student in your classes, it grounded him." Albus paused thoughtfully for a moment, the faintest flicker of sadness sweeping over his face. "I wonder, perhaps, that more of us might have treated him thus—maybe he wouldn't have turned out the way he did." Snape was taken aback for the second time in the space of ten minutes. It was the closest thing that one would ever get from Albus resembling an unabashed disclosure of error on his part. A thought flickered and ignited in the back of Severus' mind. He looked back at Albus, seeing plainly the intense sparkle in his eyes—knowing that the old wizard was anticipating the exact question he was intent on asking, but damned if he wasn't going to wait for Severus to voice it first!
"What exactly is Mr. Potter like these days, I haven't exactly been receiving my fan club monthly news post these last few years," Snape sneered with as much venom as possible, angered that he hadn't been able to resist the bait cast so skillfully by Dumbledore. Albus smiled inwardly at Severus' discomfort, knowing quite expressedly the real reason behind such an inquiry.
"Well, quite honestly Severus, it would be easy for me to sit here and tell you that Harry turned out just the way that I, and his parents, would have wanted him to." There was a slight 'hurumph' from Snape before Dumbledore, choosing most wisely to ignore such reactions from Severus when it came to James, continued. "However, to be honest with you, the boy has become a bit of a disappointment. He cares more about his work than what he is actually working for. It's not to say that he isn't honest to a fault, it's just that he no longer seems to care about the greater good, to concerned with the prosaic and details to notice the 'bigger picture' as they say." Seeing that he was quickly losing Severus' interest, for he supposed that the potions master had expected Harry's eminent downfall, in one way or another, all along, he decided to change tactics a bit. "I mean, just look at the appalling way he treated Miss Granger." Dumbledore was amply rewarded when, even if only through a subconscious effort, Snape's back stiffened and he looked back up at the Headmaster. Smiling broadly, Dumbledore decided to relent with his teasing of the young man today. He was even more overjoyed when Snape intercepted his speech.
"What exactly did Mr. Potter do to Miss Granger? I have heard it mentioned on more than one occasion—it seems as though you are all quite content to keep everyone in the dark of your pathetic little secret." Damnit! He had tried so hard to contain that bloody question, but it just slipped out anyway completely unheeded—he was really losing his touch. He only hoped, in vain, that the extra venom pumped into the last part would be enough to blanket his original ill-masked interest. By the look on Dumbledore's face, all attempts were completely negated. The old man settled back in his chair finally, brows knitted tightly in intense concentration.
"Mr. Potter simply committed the greatest sin that one could commit with a woman like Miss Granger—he ignored her. Not in the usual cursory manner, but in that he stopped seeing her for what she was—a brilliant witch with an unimaginable amount of talent. He tried to make her fit more into what he needed her to be, what he thought she should be, what…."
"Well, why didn't she stop him?" Severus interrupted more quickly than he could contain himself—his mind begging to continue, his body trying to deny that such an outburst really had occurred. These were the times that Severus was thankful for Dumbledore's unnerving omniscience that bordered tiltingly on blatant mind reading.
"Because," he began with eternal patience, knowing that part of Severus would never grasp the concept about to be laid before him, "very simply, Miss Granger loves him." Dumbledore smiled as Snape looked appalled. "Yes, as hard as that is for you to comprehend, Hermione truly loved Harry—perhaps, in the beginning, she might have even been in-love with him, but even that I fear, is most unlikely. Harry was more like a brother to her than anything else." Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking off towards a particularly interesting scene that Snape couldn't even fathom, yet. Regaining his composure, the Headmaster turned back to Severus, noting with no little amount of sadness, how utterly confused and alone the boy looked. Of course he didn't understand the concept of love, how often had he been showed it? But, thought a steadfast part of the Headmaster, that may not always be the case. Albus smiled once more. "She was not however when, after years of growing further and further apart, he proposed to her. It was a pretty nasty affair apparently; she refused him, to his utter and pompous dismay." The word 'pompous' had been practically choked out, truly displaying how much the boy had changed if even Albus Dumbledore was drawn towards the use of censorious adjectives when describing him. "Miss Granger took it rather hard—really terribly, truth be told. I'm afraid to admit that for a couple of weeks I had to place a charm over the house warning me should she try anything too…damaging."
Snape almost choked on nothing at all—nothing but his own breath and the unspoken words of anger that lay dormant on his well-checked tongue. She had tried to kill herself? It didn't quite seem possible—Hermione was always so strong and unfaltering, the thought that she had considered taking her own life…that she had considered death to be a more palatable option than that life which she had been living, well, it…. Snape unconsciously closed his eyes, desperately trying to will his breathing into a normal rhythm, trying to contain the rage towards Potter that now threatened to overtake him. But she's so strong.
"Even the strong have moments of weakness, Severus." Dumbledore's words pierced like steel. Hermione wasn't perfect, she was a human with feelings—the same as him. She too could be strong, but she was just as vulnerable to attacks of utter weakness. The need for Potter's throat beneath his fingers soon melted into another, more pressing one—the need to feel Hermione's smooth skin beneath him. To touch her, hold her, protect her—make sure that no one like Potter could ever hurt her again.
When Severus finally opened his eyes, Dumbledore was looking at him most placidly, an all-too-pleased look about his features. Snape stood suddenly, needing to find her as soon as possible.
"I suppose that you have urgent matters to attend to Severus," Albus stated knowingly, "I suggest you get to her right away." Snape could almost swear he had just heard him say 'her', but chose to ignore it as he flew from the office with greater determination and spirit than Dumbledore had seen in a long time. "It's in their hands now," Dumbledore stated to the scarlet and gold phoenix perched happily in the far corner. Fawkes gave only a slight nod of his head before turning back to whatever it was that Phoenixes did in their spare time. Dumbledore chuckled and turned his mind back to matters just as mysterious.
A/N: Here's hoping that Severus doesn't screw everything up in his infinite obliviousness to the situation! Please, oh please, oh please!