To make up for the long gap in posting, here is one very long chapter. This consists of six vignettes that take place during the days preceding the final battle.
Warning - Here there be fluff.
We are nearing the end, folks. Thank you for your encouragement and your patience.
As always thanks to Diana for her invaluable help.
Chapter 38 – Loose Ends and Promises
Part 1
Promises Made -
Ron Weasley watched as his friends left for the summer holidays. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to feel sorrow. He was glad most of them had no idea of what would transpire at the end of the week. But as happy as he was that in their ignorance they would be able to enjoy their break, it pained him that he couldn't say goodbye. Not in the way he had needed to, anyway.
For the first time in months he allowed himself to feel sorrow. Would he ever see them again? Truthfully, he didn't know. His role in what was coming was ambiguous. He was supposed to stay behind and guard Harry while the others left. And though he knew little about what was to come, he did know that after years of battles fought and won and lost, Harry would not be idle. Ron also knew that as Harry's friend --as his brother -- neither would he; and though it pained him to even contemplate, neither would Hermione
He wouldn't ask her to stay behind if he needed to follow Harry. First of all, he knew she wouldn't; her bravery was one of the things he admired most about her. Secondly and more importantly, he loved her. Not in the way a normal 15 year old falls in love. In a way that burned her face into his consciousness. In a way that made his heart weep when she left the room. In a way that made him ache when he held her, because he knew no matter how tight his grasp, she would never be close enough. Perhaps it was the result of the life they lived -- full of adversity and tribulation -- that bound them to each other so intensely, so intensely it hurt.
Yes, for the first time in months he allowed himself to feel sorrow.
But now it was time to push the feelings of sorrow away. There was no place for the luxury of emotions in time of war. It was an indulgence no one could afford.
Through the window, he caught sight of Seamus running to catch up with Dean. He couldn't help but smile as he watched Seamus push his best friend towards Agatha, a Hufflepuff, whom Dean has been talking about for months. Though he felt far removed from that world, he found himself immersed in the scene, so immersed, that he did not hear her enter the common room.
Hermione Granger watched him. He had changed so much this year. She missed Ron the prankster, the Ron with an irrepressible temper, and the Ron of endearing blushes. The Ron before her held himself with the maturity of a man three times his age, and though she was proud of him and who he had become, she hoped she had not lost the boy to the man just yet. There had to be casualties though, didn't there? This was war, after all.
With this thought, she sighed, and as she did, he turned to her. He watched her, fondly, sitting there in her faded jeans and his old Chudley Cannon's shirt hanging over her hips. He smiled. In that smile, she caught a glimpse of the boy. In the boy she saw hope, and she smiled back.
Ron walked over to where she stood and put his arms around her, lost in the scent of peaches and cream. He stood back a little to look at her face and saw the worry, knowing he needed to make it go away. So he did the first thing that came into his head. He tickled her.
She fell to the floor in fits of laughter and joy, which drove away the stress of the last few weeks. This was her Ron and no matter what was to come, he would always be so. When he finally stopped his assault she was lying underneath him. Too tempted to resist, he kissed her. Too happy in the moment, she kissed back.
After some time he helped her up and they sat on the couch together, not breaking the contact they made from their first embrace. He spoke. "Are you all right?"
"As all right as I could be, I suppose….Are you?"
"I think so."
"But you're not sure?"
"No, it's not that. It's just that the waiting is getting to me. I have never been the patient sort and knowing what is coming, but not knowing what I am supposed to be doing, is killing me."
"But you know what you are supposed to be doing. You are supposed to be watching Harry. We'll be watching Harry."
"Hermione, you know as well as I do that Harry has no intention of just sitting here while hundreds of others are fighting..…and you also know that I can't let him do it alone."
She was quiet.
"I suppose there is no way of asking you not to follow us."
She pursed her lips.
"Sorry, I had to try."
"I will be wherever you are, wherever Harry is. It is what has gotten us by all these years; I don't plan to change that now."
He knew she was right. She had a way of seeing these things. Woman's intuition, maybe. Or perhaps something more. But that was her all over, wasn't it - something more? They sat in the quiet for some time longer until Ron spoke again. His face was more solemn than she had ever seen. He cleared his throat and spoke. "I have something for you."
"What for?" she asked.
"Just because," he replied. "But before it give it to you, you have to listen to the speech I've prepared."
"I knew there had to be a catch," she said out of the corner of her mouth.
He smiled as he reached into his pocket and then began:
"When I first met you I knew you were special. At first I thought it was because you were so smart. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that you saved us on more than one occasion. As I got to know you better, though, I realized you were more that just a brain. You were brave and clever. You were….passionate and determined."
His voice started to falter, but he pressed on. "You were beautiful in ways I never knew a person could be. I realized a long time ago that you were more to me than just a friend. I realized that my day was better just because I could share it with you. I want to share everyday with you now and forever." He opened his hand to reveal a delicate golden band with a violet amethyst in the center. Hermione stared at the ring in his hand not quite knowing what to do with herself, but trying as best she could to keep her composure. He continued. "It's a promise ring. The stone is called an amethyst and I was told it represents love, friendship, and peace. It seemed right, you know."
Finally lifting her face to meet his, Hermione stared at him.
"I know we can't officially get engaged," he continued. "If Voldemort doesn't kill us, then my Mum or your Dad will. Everyone will say we are too young, but really, I haven't felt young in a long, long time. Maybe we are, but I want you to have this anyway. It means I promise to make it official one day. It means I want everyone to know you are mine. It…it means I love you."
Hermione just continued to stare at him. She finally looked back down at the ring, composure be damned "It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Tears began cascading down her cheeks. "I love you, too."
His heart considerably lighter, he got down on one knee and place the ring on her finger. Feeling her legs go weak, she knelt down next to him. "You never cease to amaze me, Ron Weasley. Just when I thought I knew everything about you, you show me something new. This morning I was afraid of what the future would bring. I was afraid that there might not be another sunrise to look forward to. But there has to be, doesn't there? There just has to be."
Together, they got up and left the common room. Hand in hand, they walked outside to the lake side that had quickly become their private hideaway. The future would have to wait just a little longer.
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Part 2
Promises Kept -
Sophie sat on her couch watching him hover. She usually made breakfast for them, but he wouldn't hear of it. He insisted on bringing it from the kitchens. Since she came home he felt it was his job to take care of her. Those new duties included making sure she ate properly -- he hated seeing her so thin. He was now busying himself with tucking her into a blanket -- he thought he saw her shiver. She felt fine but she would not stop him; he was a man possessed, and at the moment, the object of his obsession was enjoying the spectacle.
"Would you like more tea, Auntie Sophie?"
She had to smile.
She tried to picture what Neville would look like as a thirty year old man. Would he still call her Auntie Sophie? She sincerely hoped so. But then again, would she be around to hear it? The thought brought a lump to her throat. Neville was so much more than Alice's son: he was the child she always wanted, the one she never had. He was the inspiration for her career, for her life. Would he ever know how much she loved him? How special he was to her? How special he was at all? It was her job to make sure, wasn't it? It was the promise that she made to a three year old boy: to protect him, to see him grow up to be the man he was destined to be. Now she was leaving him behind. 'Oh Neville,' she thought, 'how I have let you down. Your parents are no better now than they were twelve years ago. And now, I am preparing to leave for a battle that I may never return from. What have I done?'
"Stop that."
Brought back from her reverie, she stared at him. "Stop what?"
"Stop worrying about me," he said plainly.
Her shoulders fell. "Am I that obvious?"
"You are not the only one who can read faces, you know. I have become quite good at it myself."
"Oh really." His candor brought the smile back to her face. "Tell me, dear prophet, what do you see?"
He gave her a small smile back. "I see that you are worried about me. That you are afraid I will be left alone. That you are failing me and abandoning me."
She stared at him in disbelief. He knew. Somehow, he knew.
"I know that face….It is the same one I would see month after month when we visited my parents. It is the same one you would get when you would tell me about another experiment that didn't work the way you had hoped. The same one you gave me when you told me that you had failed them because you thought you had failed me, too."
"Oh Neville…." she began, but the words would not find a voice.
"You promised me that you would do whatever you could to help them….to help me. You promised to always be there for me and to give me the life you thought they would want me to have. I know you think that you didn't do all those things, but you did. Maybe not in the way you wanted to, but you did. You never made me feel like the squib I thought I was. You pushed me to be more, even when I didn't want you to. You always made me feel special and loved. You did all you could. I always knew that. I never faulted you for not being able to help them, you know. I think it's about time you forgave yourself."
"When…when did you become so grown-up?"
He shrugged. "When I realized it was time to stop being a boy, I suppose. Time to stop hiding from things that I really couldn't control and time to fix the things I could. I realized that there were others who had problems worse than mine. They didn't have friends like mine or people who loved them and cared for them. There are worse things than losing your parents…like having no one else there to pick up the pieces." As he said these words there was a soft knock on the door. He got up as if fully expecting a visitor.
"I invited someone to eat with us this morning." He answered the door and returned with Draco.
A whispered, "Draco," was all that she could manage. They never really talked since she got back, though she tried. He never seemed to be ready. Seeing this and seeing it was bothering Sophie, Neville took him upon himself to help them along.
Draco stood tensely in the kitchen. He looked so small compared to Neville, who seemed to have grown into a man almost over night.
"Hello, Dr. Young," Draco said with a furtive smile.
"Sophie," she corrected.
"Right…Sophie"
"Sit down, Draco. I'll get you something to eat and you two can talk." Neville disappeared into the kitchen giving them some privacy.
"How are you, Draco?" she asked softly.
A small voice. "All right."
"How is it being back?"
Smaller still. "Fine."
"Any problems with your housemates?"
Slightly cracking. "No."
"Draco, you don't have to be afraid to speak to me. You act as if I am angry with you instead of extremely grateful to you for saving my life. Now, are you going to talk to me or are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of breakfast? If you recall, I can do that for an extended period of time."
Barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."
Sophie knew that tone, he was dying inside. "Draco, don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. You acted with more valor and intelligence than anyone would ever have expected. You made sacrifices and difficult choices. We made promises to you and we plan to keep them. But you have to let us. You have to trust us beginning now. Right now. This very moment."
With a shaking head. "I don't……."
"Don't what?"
"I'm so sorry for what they did to you." Tears began to pool in his grey eyes. "It's my fault. All of it. If I hadn't been seeing, you they never would have done what they did. …And my father…I know what he is like…I know what he did to you…I know what he –"
"Draco, you are not your father," she interrupted. "You could not predict his actions and you are not responsible for his psychosis. He did what he did out of his own delusions and anger. He used you as he uses everyone in his life, to achieve his aspirations. You are a pawn to him. He is not deserving of you or your guilt. He doesn't deserve the emotions you're wasting on him."
"Aren't I just like him, though? Haven't I always been?" As much as Draco tried to separate himself from his father there was no escaping his lineage. At least in his eyes.
"You are nothing like him."
"Aren't I? Don't you think I used you? I came here week after week and told you nothing until I was forced to. I strung you along because it was what I needed to do. I use everyone in my life. I have no real friends, just strategic affiliations. Everyone else sees that. Everyone knows I'm not worth anything. Why don't you?"
His impassioned words struck Sophie. Despite it all, he still did not see.
"Come with me?" She got up and led Draco to her office, directing him to a pile of papers on her desk. Rough drawings and scribbled notes outlined what appeared to be blueprints and plans for a room.
"What do you think this is?" He made no indication of having an answer. "These are the plans Ron and I have been working on to add a room here…a room for you. It was his idea. While I was in the hospital, he came to me. He told me that he thought you would need a place to stay since you would not be returning home and that this would be the best place for you because it would be the only place that you would be safe. It was Ron's idea. Your nemesis. These are his sketches. His, because he sees in you what I do, what Dumbledore does, what Professor Snape does and what Neville does. He sees the possibility for who you are afraid to let yourself be. I can't change your life for you. Things happened, choices were made, and now all we can do is move forward."
"You make it sound so easy," he said in a strangled whisper. "Like I just have to pull myself together and I can make it all go away."
"Pain doesn't disappear on it's own, Draco," she said sympathetically. "We can't run away from it and pretend it isn't there."
"What if you aren't ready to face it?"
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then you try to find a way to live despite it. But you prepare for it, you prepare to dealt with it. To fight it."
Draco picked up the plans and looked at them. A crude drawing of the house was surrounded by notes scribbled in the margins. Though somewhat sloppy, the work put into the draft was evident. After a few moments, he spoke softly. "I'd….I'd like a window?"
"Pardon."
"I'd like a window. My room never had one…it always felt like a prison to me. I like a big window I could sit in front of."
"I'll see what I can do." She said with a smile as she reached over and hugged him.
And for the first time ever, he hugged her back.
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Part 3
The Promise of Today
Severus Snape sat in his quarters with a small silver band twirling in his fingers. The band was the key to the mission, the key that would bring a couple of hundred people into the fiercest battle the wizarding world would ever know. In his hand he held the key to the future.
He desperately wished it was in someone else's hand.
While putting the ring away for safe keeping, he heard a knock. Very few people ever came to visit so he could only imagine what that knock meant. He opened the door and was very surprised to see Sirius Black on the other side.
"Black," he managed to get out as Sirius, uninvited, entered his private rooms.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your intrusion?"
"We need to set some things straight," Sirius replied, his manner gruff and stern.
"Forgive me. I was unaware I cared in the least about anything you had to say." Severus matched his tone.
"Cut the sarcasm, Snape, for just a minute. I am not here to fight." Sirius's tone softened. "I just can't continue with all this without having it out with you."
"What are you going on about?"
"Why did you do it?"
Bewildered, Snape stared at Black. "You will have to enlighten me. As usual , I haven't the foggiest clue what you are talking about."
Sirius took a deep breath. "Why did you defend me at the meeting when I first returned? You were quick to tell everyone that you trusted me, and it never sat well with me. You had no reason to say anything at all. You had no knowledge of anything I was doing and no reason to help me, but you did and I need to know why."
Snape slowly shook his head back and forth. "Does it matter?"
"Of course it does," answered Black.
"No, you twit, it doesn't. But that was always your problem, Black, wasn't it? You were far too busy worrying about yourself and how things affected you. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of lives at stake and we are the only ones who can make a difference, yet you are consumed with a gesture made months ago. Can't you just accept the fact that it was something that needed to be done, and let it go?"
Sirius would not let Snape get away that easily. "It would, coming from anyone other than you. You have spent a lifetime hating me. It is more of a past time for you than anything else and we both know that. Don't stand there and tell me you saw an opportunity to help the cause and took it, because we both know it wasn't too long ago you were hoping to have a first row seat in watching me get the Dementor's kiss. Spare me the gallantry and the feigned indifference and tell me the truth."
"I owe you nothing. In fact, you should be grateful that I even did what I did. You never did anything to deserve my endorsement."
"Exactly. So why give it? Why did you suddenly become so generous?"
"I do not have time for this. You can see yourself out." Snape turned to leave the room but was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Snape, please. I am really not here to be confrontational," Sirius said, sincerely. "Remus told me about your truce. I was impressed that you could be so open to him. He and Harry are all I have. It is important for me to see in you what they see, especially since you went out of your way to help me. I can't make you understand what I am feeling. I have spent twelve years in hell and I plan to fight till my death for my freedom and for those I love. There is nothing else for me in this world. For me to have any kind of future, I must clean up my past. I'm sorry I was an arse as a kid, but I was just a kid. I am sorry I gave you a hard time, but I had no idea what was coming. Don't you think it's time we moved on? I am not asking you to be my friend, but it I think that we may be able to co-exist without every conversation turning violent. If not for your sake, or anyone else's, then do it just because it's time to let go."
"Just like that? As if years of torment did not affect me? As if my pain meant nothing because suddenly you found a conscience?"
"Sna…..Severus, in three days time we could all be dead, so I know that this doesn't really matter to anyone other than me. No, you do not owe me anything. Yes, you have every right to tell me to shove it up my arse and get out. You want to piss on my grave, be my guest, but we are not kids anymore. I am asking to understand you better, that's all. If we must die, can't we do it knowing we found some sort of peace between us?"
Severus Snape stared at this man with a mixture of the loathing that he could not disguise and the surprise that he actually understood what Sirius was trying to say. For the briefest moment he thought of Sophie….of Remus…of Cecilia. Sirius was right. In three days time they could all be dead and what would it mean to anyone.
He raised his hand to his tired eyes and rubbed them. "Fine, why don't we have a drink?"
Sirius visibly relaxed. "Thanks."
Severus poured two glasses of whiskey. As he watched Sirius down the amber liquid like water, it occurred to him that only a truly harsh life would make something so potent, so ineffective. He understood that all too well. With a sigh he began his tale.
"At the end of Tri-Wizard tournament Dumbledore asked me if I was ready to do what I was needed to do. Do you remember that?"
Black nodded slowly. "I think so."
"Did you ever wonder what that was?" Severus asked.
"I always assumed it meant spying again, like you did when you turned."
"Let's be realistic, Black. If I had returned to Voldemort I would have dead within seconds. No, what I did was contact a few friends. We were a network of sorts. Wizards walking the line of light and dark who could get information. Wizards who were not afraid to dig and get dirty. They are all over Europe and Asia, we even set up satellites in North and South America, and Africa. No one really knew were he would end up, but no one wanted him in their back yard, so this Network was created to protect everyone. Its members are known to no one other than myself, and most are known only though codenames and owls. Within three weeks of being up and running I received words that He was spotted in France…with you."
Realization slowly began to creep into Sirius's features.
"You must imagine my delight in thinking I could finally turn you in to Dumbledore and expose you as the traitor I always knew you were. I was delirious in my joy. But even in my enthusiasm, I had to make sure. I needed first-hand proof before revealing you as a fraud. I Apparated to your last known location and after about a week, I found you." Severus paused, taking a quick drink before continuing.
"I did not find Voldemort's right hand, I did not find you in your treacherous glory. I found you chained to a wall, beaten and brutalized. I found out that you were captured a few weeks prior and were tortured because you would not reveal any information other than your name.
"You must understand-- I was disappointed. Bitterly so, actually. Not only was I wrong about why you were there, but you were the man they said you were. I know what the Death Eaters are capable of. I know how they find their amusements, and I could imagine how they toyed with the godfather of the one they most wanted to destroy. What better way to lure Potter to them than by using you as bait. But you gave them nothing. Not even the slightest information that might mean the difference between life and death. You would have died, and not in any merciful way."
"It was you. Wasn't it?" Sirius seemed to wake up from his trance. "You were the one who distracted them. You were the one who helped me escape."
"Despite popular opinion, Black, I am not a monster. We are fighting for the same thing, after all. We are loyal to the same people…I waited around until I saw an opportunity. You were unconscious and alone. I loosened you shackles enough for you to be able to pull free while still appearing to be confined. After setting the woods on the other side of the camp on fire, causing a primitive but effective distraction, I Apparated to a safe spot. The next time I heard about you, you had managed to escape. You were free, so as far as I was concerned that was that end of that."
Sirius watched as Severus finished the last of his drink. He seemed unable to speak as his mind processed this information. "You saved my life: You took no credit at all and you act as if it was no big deal."
"It wasn't. It was bad enough you were innocent of a crime that kept you wrongly imprisoned for twelve years, but I would be damned if you would be a martyr as well. I mean, really, how much disappointment am I supposed to deal with in one lifetime?"
Sirius smiled.
"Don't smile at me. It is quite repugnant."
"Would you accept a 'Thank you'?"
"Black, I want nothing from you."
"Fair enough. What happens now, because try all you want, I will never believe you hate me as much as you say you do."
"You can think want ever you want. It makes no difference to me."
"Fine, fine. I'll make no promises about tomorrow, but I think we can safely call a ceasefire for the time being."
"Does this mean I am no longer welcome to piss on your grave?"
Sirius smiled again. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
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Part 4
The Promise of Yesterday
A light coating of dust covered the faded flowers that adorned the box. Sophie traced a daisy with reluctant fingers.
Another life.
The box held the sweet memories of another life, one remembered with the warmth one feels when wrapped in a child's worn blanket. One remembered with fondness one feels for the teddy bear with the torn arm, or the beloved who shared a first kiss. One remembered with the sadness of watching the last bit of snowman, hours in the building, melt away. One remembered with the regret of words unsaid and deeds undone.
A brochure from the inn up north. They always managed to miss breakfast.
A handkerchief with the phantom smell of his aftershave.
Ticket stubs from the theater. 'What was that awful play I dragged him to?'
An old letter filled with the possibilities of days that would never come.
Pictures.
One of a picnic by the lake. Right after the picture was taken he threw her in for some rude comment or another.
One of him reading in that old armchair he refused to get rid of no matter how much she pleaded.
One of him asleep. It was the only time he ever really seemed at peace.
He was so beautiful.
She loved him then. She thought she did, anyway. She realized too late she was unable to love anyone at that time. She just didn't have it in her. She needed time to understand what was happening to the world….and herself.
Truth be told, he deserved better. Kind and gentle, loving and affectionate, intelligent and passionate. Remus was everything she needed then. And she…
What was she to him?
Kind and gentle, more or less. Loving and affectionate, too scared to be either effectively. Intelligent and passionate, sure, but not the way he was, not the way she should have been.
Regret.
There it was again.
He said he was leaving and she let him. It was the only time he ever denied her anything. The only time he ever put his own feelings first. He needed more than she had to give. And even then, in his one moment of self preservation, even then, he was helping her. He had set her free. Relieved, she wouldn't have to see the pain in his eyes when she pushed him away. Grateful, he would no longer be hurt by her selfishness
Sophie almost didn't hear the soft knocking on her door. She was not surprised to see the subject of her thoughts leaning in her doorway. He always knew when she needed him, even now. His hair hung over his eyes, almost covering them. He always wore it like that and she teased him about it at every turn. It seemed a crime to her that he covered his eyes. Those robin egg blue eyes that haunted her for years. Her hand came up to his face and pushed the hair to the side.
"You need a hair cut, Remus."
A laugh. It still felt like home. "Some things never change do they, Sophie?"
"Everything changes, Remus. We just pretend not to see it."
He cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong?"
She looked down. 'What isn't?' she thought. "Why don't you come in?"
Looking around the rooms he smiled. "You still have this old stuff, huh?"
"I have a hard time letting go sometimes."
He sat on her couch and stared at the armchair that faced it. "Is that…."
"The very same."
"You fixed it. I thought you would have burned it at the first chance."
"I couldn't do that. It meant too much to you. It cost about three times what it was worth to fix, but I did it anyway. It was worth it, I think."
She offered nothing more.
"Are you ever going to tell me what's wrong?"
She was hesitant to start, knowing too well the deluge that would ensue. But time was running out. She could feel the sand in the hourglass slipping through, eating away at the precious seconds that she had left. After a deep breath she began:
"Do you hate me, Remus? …No, don't answer that. You should hate me. You probably do on some level, but you would never tell me that. You are too considerate for that." She found some comfort in his small smile.
"I have spent the last couple of hours looking over my personal papers," she continued. "I only have a few days left to get everything in order. Getting my affairs prepared has turned into me trying to make some sense of my life, trying desperately for closure, to finally say the things I should have said so very long ago. The problem is, I don't know what to say to you. I don't know how I am supposed to apologize for the mess I was and for the pain I caused.
"How can I make you understand the person I was if I don't understand her? Frankly, I don't even like her. She pushed everyone away because it was easier than letting them in. Because she was a coward. Because she was foolish. I can't tell you how much I regretted everything that came to pass. How much I missed you and how much the time we spent together meant to me. How much I loved you."
There was that smile again. "What makes you think I don't already know all that?"
"All what?"
"Sophie," he began. "I left because I knew what we were two people who were alone in the world, who needed to hold onto something – anything -- for fear of falling. We created this world for ourselves where we were the heroes, avenging the wronged and falling in love along the way. It made for an epic fairy tale. But life did not live up to the fairy tale. We were simply people who were fallible and terribly fragile. We tried to write our own happy ending, and when it didn't come, neither one of us wanted to admit it. We convinced ourselves that it was better to be together if for no other reason than it was better then the alternative. But it wasn't better. No matter how much we loved each other, it did not make up for the other things our relationship was lacking. Not to mention it was the wrong place at the wrong time. I needed to move on as much as you needed breathing room. In the end, we both needed to go looking for other things. I am glad at least one of has found it."
He brought his hand up to her face and held it there.
"I am happy that you have found what you needed. Truly. And I have not lost the hope that I will too some day. Hell, if Severus Snape can find love, anyone can, right?"
That laugh. His sweet, sweet laugh always made everything right again.
"Oh, Remus, I did miss you so much. It was so hard to be without you…but I came to realize it was harder being with you. You're right. We were playing pretend, and I would have let it go on. I wasn't as brave as you were. It took a long time before I was comfortable being with myself. It was only then that I was able to be with someone else. But no matter what place Severus holds in my heart it will never replace the claim you have. Promise me you won't go away again. Not forever."
"Sophie, I never went away completely. I couldn't. I just couldn't come back until we were both strong enough to face our past as lovers and our future as friends. I think we can both go forward from here, together, as it should be. Are you ready?"
"I'm scared, Remus."
"You'll be fine. I finally got you back, so I don't plan to let anything happen to you now." He put his arms around her and held her close. She looked over his shoulder to the open box sitting on her table. Another life. Another chance.
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Part 5
The Promise of Tomorrow
He knew she was watching him. Somehow, he always knew she was there-- behind a tree, around a corner, from a window. He knew she watched him, worried about him, loved him. For some reason, though, it also always surprised him. He tried to convince himself that she was just concerned about him, as if he were just one of her brothers. It was easier that way, to deny there was anything there. What was love at their age, after all? Did either of them really have a clue?
He grew up never knowing positive emotions, any kind of affection, truth be told. Compassion or understanding, patience or hope, were strange to him. Years ago, at the tender age of eleven, his reality was torn apart. The life that he knew was nothing but a story, a fable. He learned he had a history, he learned his name meant something. He learned there was a world that he never knew of that considered him its greatest son.
He had always considered it a blessing, a dream come true, really. There was laughter where there was once only indifference. There was adventure where there was once only isolation. There was joy where there was once only misery. There was family. Yes, once he considered it a blessing. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Letting people into your life meant more people to disappoint, more people to miss when they went away. Wouldn't they all go away eventually? More people to worry about, and these days, he worried about a lot. It meant more pain and losses when none of that mattered before, really. Would he really care if the Dursleys died? He might have a passing regret, but he would get over it. It was cold of him and he knew that, but he could not create a connection with them now as much as he might have wanted one when he was younger. He sighed as he though of that: how at one point in his life he lived for the hope of a kind word, or Merlin forgive, a hug.
Family.
Do they even know what that word means?
He never truly did until now, until this very moment. The people that he considered --his family -- were preparing for a battle. It was foolish to believe that that they would all come back. And in it all, he could do nothing. Banished to his room like a child.
He sat in the common room staring in to the fading fire thinking about how futile it all was. These last few days were killing him, slowly and completely. As much as he wanted to keep his promise he could not sit around waiting for news of death and destruction. Providence told him he was to play a bigger role in all of this. He knew it and he knew that they knew it. He was trying to figure out what that role would be when he sensed her there.
He did not see her but he could picture her: Hair the color of an autumn sunset, falling over slender shoulders in loose curls down to the small of her back. Biting her lower lip, wrinkling the nose dappled with light brown freckles. Glittering eyes telling the story her voice could not, full of adoration and fear and sorrow. Feet shuffling back and forth, not quite knowing what to do with her hands.
Damn.
Damn them all for putting these thoughts in his head. Dr. Young, Dumbledore, even Ron and Hermione had something to say. Didn't they know what could happen to her if the Death Eaters found out?
When he heard the story of Sophie's ordeal he knew he was right in keeping Ginny away. They were after him. No they needed him. What better way to draw him out then to hurt the one he loved?
'Where did that come from?' He was visibly startled that the thought crossed his mind. Loved?
When he sat up in alarm, she walked forward. "What's wrong?"
"Noth…Nothing."
"Are you sure? You just jumped up like you were burned or something."
Burned…on fire. Good assessment. "No, really, I'm fine…I guess I'm just a little on edge lately."
"Yeah…I understand…so am I."
His shoulders fell. "How stupid of me. Of course you are, your brothers and all?"
"Not just them. All of it, really. It seems so unfair. We should all be able to live our lives and do the things we were all meant to do. The simple things that should make up every life: Going to school, playing sports, gossiping, laughing - like normal people. Instead we are in the middle of a war with a power hungry maniac whose face most of us have never even seen. It seems unreal, doesn't it? Like it should be happening in a book, not in our lives. I don't think I ever felt so defenseless, so… There is so much I want to say and do and I don't know if I will ever get the chance. And now I sit here waiting for news that the people who I love most might never be home again. I should be able to do something, shouldn't I?"
He stared at her in amazement; she just summarized everything he was feeling. Reading his mind and pulling out his thoughts as if she were reading them from a journal. Who was this girl? Who was she really?
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He was brought back from where ever he was.
"I was just thinking about what you said and………"
"And…."
"And how much it mirrored what I have been thinking," he said, surprised a this own admission.
"Does that surprise you?"
"I guess it does."
She gave him a crooked smile. Her eyes softened and she spoke softly. "It shouldn't. As much as you think you are alone, you're not. You haven't been alone since you come to this place, since you came into our lives."
She moved closer to him, slower closing the distance between them. "I know you are not sure what to do with a family. I can tell you from years of experience it is not easy, always having people around asking you questions, wanting to be part of your life, always worried about you or trying to talk to you when you don't always feel like talking. I used to wish for nothing more than to be left alone. But the thing is, you get used to having people around. People to laugh with and sometimes cry with."
She found herself sitting next to Harry, close enough to see the light flush crawling over his cheek. "Just because we weren't there in the beginning in doesn't mean we won't be there in the future. I hate to tell you this, but you are stuck with us. As far as Mum and Dad are concerned there is an eight Weasley child…Well, ninth, really. I don't think Hermione is going away any time soon either." And then she giggled and smiled.
Suddenly, he was a fifteen year old boy again. A boy sitting with a girl he liked. There was no pending battle, no psychotic fanatic with a vendetta against the world. He felt warm and calm…no…that was not right…he felt…happy? Was he happy? Could she do that when no one else could? Could she make him happy by just talking to him…by just being there? "I think I like that idea," he finally said.
"Of having a family?"
"Of…Of you always being there."
"Oh," was all she could manage.
"Ginny, I don't know what is going to happen…To any of us…But when it is all over, I think we need to talk about some stuff."
"Can't we talk about it now?" she asked, hopefully.
"I can't. I…There is a lot that could happen. I don't think it will all be good, but I will do everything in my power to make sure there is a tomorrow and then, when we have a better idea what it will hold, I want to pick up this conversation. I just can't have it now. There is too much between now and then. Do you understand?"
"I think I do. But you won't mind if I do something in the meantime while I wait do you?"
"What?"
Without another word a ghost of a kiss lightly brushed his lips, so quickly he didn't have time to close his eyes. Gathering courage, she leaned in again, a little more forceful perhaps, a little more confident.
Inches from his face, she spoke with the lightest of whispers. "Do what you have to do, Harry Potter. Just come back."
In the emptiness left in the wake of her departure, he sat. As the last ember of the fire died away he fell asleep, a smile on his face as he dreamed of glittering eyes and an autumn sunset.
Part 6
The Promise of Eternity
The sun rose that morning as it always did. Sophie wondered why is it surprised her. She wondered why she felt the universe should recognize that today was the day before Armageddon. Tomorrow would either be the beginning of an age of peace that the world had not seen in decades or of a darkness that would suck the essence of life from the Earth herself, and damn it, the universe should acknowledge that. But no, the sun rose, breaking through the misty darkness in hues of violent blue and bristly orange. It should inspire hope of new beginnings, but it failed to. Instead, it filled Sophie with the regret of knowing it may be the last one she would ever get to see.
She spent the previous night watching Severus sleep. As the candlelight flickered against his face, she was struck with how peaceful he looked. In that moment he reminded her of Remus -- two tortured souls who only found solace in slumber because the waking world held too many pains.
She thought of the life they tried to build together and how silly it was of her to attempt a romance in a time of turmoil and chaos. In the end, however, we have very little say in who we love and how deeply. It can not be forced. She learned her lesson with Remus. There was no reason she should not have been head over heels in love with him. He was handsome and kind, intelligent and funny. His condition never bothered her, she never really thought about it much. But it just didn't work between them. Instead, she falls for a temperamental, moody, volatile, guilt-ridden man who lived the life of a monk with a death wish. Then again, she was an over emotional, impulsive, workaholic psychologist with control issues and difficulty with intimacy.
A match made in heaven.
When it became apparent that she would not get any sleep that evening, she quietly slipped out of bed and into the kitchen. Sophie had always been a proponent of the medicinal properties of a hot cup of tea…and a cookie. Few knew that nothing worked as well to comfort nerves like a hot cup of tea and a cookie; if they did, she wouldn't have much of a practice.
She held the hot cup in her hands up to her face and inhaled the sweet aroma. If only for a moment she would allow herself to get lost in the fragrance of blackberries and sage. Curled up in Remus's old armchair with her tea and a gingersnap, Sophie let out a small sigh. She had spent many hours of late in this very chair, trying to prepare herself for tomorrow. The picture of Molly Weasley would not leave her mind. Sophie lost her family a long time ago and though she loved the people in her life now, it is not the same as the ties that can only be formed from of years of interaction, history and love.
Molly was the most devoted mother Sophie had ever met. She wondered if she could make the sacrifices that Molly made for the well-being of her family. Birthdays were always personalized. Broken hearts were mended along with old socks. Extra attention was given to those who felt isolated and extra space to those who felt confined. But perhaps, most astonishingly, she instinctively knew the difference. She welcomed her children's friends into her home as if she gave birth to them herself. But as loving and sympathetic as she was, she was first and foremost their defender, their protector. She left little doubt as to her strength and the heights she would go to keep those she loved from harm. And as dedicated as she was, she supported them as they prepared for battle. A battle Sophie felt responsible for. Perhaps not the need for such a battle, but responsible nonetheless.
"You need to stop doing this, you know." Though barely above a whisper, his silky voice filled the room.
"Severus, how long have you been up?"
"Long enough to see that you are harboring doubts about tomorrow."
"And why shouldn't I harbor doubts? Wasn't it you who just a short time ago was telling me my plan was ill conceived and reckless? That it was madness and folly?"
"It is…but even I have to admit at least it's a chance…and that's more than we've have in a long time."
"People will die, Severus," she said sullenly.
"That is a foregone conclusion," he replied honestly.
"Does it have to be?" she asked.
"What are you talking about?"
"I have been thinking about this for a long time. You and I hold the key to all this. We can achieve what we need to achieve while still saving lives in the process. I think I have a plan, but it will require that we both agree."
"Why just us?"
She gave no answer but stared hard into his eyes. In those eyes she had seen love and hate, fear and courage, confusion and clarity and she now saw something else, understanding. Perhaps it was something that he thought of as well. Perhaps
"You don't want us to activate the ring," he finally said.
"Once Voldemort is dead the rest will fall away. They will fall into silence for fear of being discovered as they have for the past fifteen years. There is no need to bring the others into this. We can finish it."
"You can't think it will be that simple," he admonished.
"Why not?" she protested.
"You leave too much room for another to take his place. He grooms people to seek power, to hunger for it. They will see his passing as an opportunity to become him. In the end that is what we are all convinced we want; to be him, to have control over everyone, to crush those who would dare contradict us. We need to destroy them. If we are to do this alone we will need something else."
"Destroy?" she asked through a dry throat.
"They have killed hundreds….thousands, probably, over two decades in the name of sport. Don't you think they deserve what they get?"
Sophie winced at the thought of hundreds of Aurors rushing into battle. The look in Severus's eyes told her he had something else in mind. "What do you mean?"
"You are not the only one who has spent time thinking of this. I have held that ring in my hands every night for months thinking of a way around using it. I have enough blood on my conscience to last a lifetime."
"You have come up with something, haven't you?"
He gave her an appraising look and seeming to come to a decision spoke. "Get dressed."
It was a command that Sophie did not dare to refuse. Without uttering another word she put on some clothes and followed Severus to his private rooms and his private laboratory.
It was a room she had never entered, though she was the only one who knew of its existence. She scanned his supplies and tried to quell the shiver that ran through her core. He had supplies that had been banned for years, books that have been considered too dark for even the Restricted Section of the library. This was a room no law-abiding wizard would allow himself to enter let alone admit to having prior knowledge. Her eyes were caught by a cauldron in the far end of the room quietly simmering. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sophie peered inside to see a thick fluid of silver and blue bubbling.
"What is it?"
"It has no name. It is a concoction I have been working on for a very long time."
"How long?"
"Since the day they took Cecelia away."
Sophie had been with Severus long enough to know that that was a topic not up for elaboration. "What does it do?"
"It links the wearers of the mark."
"I don't understand."
"It started as a potion to remove this mark that is a daily reminder of my folly and foolishness. I used pieces of my skin, my blood, the mark itself for years, only to find that nothing worked. The only way to destroy the mark would be to destroy the one who placed it there. But along the way I discovered something else. This potion made with bits and pieces of my failure would not remove the mark from me, but would react to it. One day while testing the potion, I accidentally burned myself on my forearm. Lucius contacted me the next day to tell me his arm burned and that others in our old circle had the same burn in the same spot. This was years before Voldemort's resurrection. They had thought it was him calling. Only I knew the truth. Only I know that anything that happened to the drinker of the potion happened to all those who bore the same mark, but the effect was very short lasting. By my best estimation it lasts about 5 minutes after the initial ingestion, connecting the drinker to his…compatriots."
"What are you saying?" She started to tremble at the implication of his words. "If you take this potion and something happens to you, it happens to all Death Eaters." Her voice started to become frantic. "If you think we are going to …"
Severus gently placed a finger on her lips to calm her. "The only way to destroy the mark would be to destroy the one who put it there. My taking the potion will not be enough to destroy everyone. On the contrary, killing me would release everyone from the bond. No, Voldemort has to drink it. And then he has to die …and then, I die."
"NO!" Sophie's legs when limp and she was about to fall to the ground.
Before she could, he took her in his arms. "Hush, my love. Don't speak. Don't say anything."
Realization swept over her and she broke. He said nothing as he held her close. Sometimes words were just not enough. Sometimes silence said more than a thousand words could ever convey. Sophie knew Severus well enough to know that no words she uttered could change his mind. She wanted a way to reduce the number of casualties, to save as many lives as possible, and he was giving it to her. That fact that her heart would break was beside the point really. Whether it was her heart, or Molly Weasley's, or one of a thousand nameless faces, it did not matter. What mattered was that it would all end, and end forever, and they could do it.
They had to do it.
A lifetime passed in a matter of minutes as they stood holding each other, neither wanting to let go, both knowing what would happen tomorrow. There was no longer speculation of how things would work, only an unforgiving comprehension and pain.
She finally spoke. "How do we get him to drink it?"
"He has to take it when he takes your blood. It has to be mixed with your blood when he drinks it."
"I have to drink it."
"I have to inject it into your blood stream. You are a Muggle with no Dark Mark; it will not affect you at all. Your blood will kill him. The potion will take care of the rest. And we will finally be rid of this mark and all those connected to it. They will all die and we don't have to endanger anyone else."
"You say it so casually." She wanted to leave to run away, to keep running until she could not feel anything anymore.
"Sophie, look at me." Her eyes, now rimmed with red, met his. His eyes, black as onyx, shone brighter than she ever remembered seeing them. "In the short time we have been together you have given me more than I allowed myself to hope for in years," he began, "More love, more dreams, more joy than I ever thought I would ever deserve. If I must die at least it will be with the knowledge that I am dying with honor and having tasted a happiness men who live three times as long would never get to know, because of you I have lead a life worth living."
Sophie heard her words from an eon ago come back to her, and though she wanted him to say there had to be another way, she knew he made up his mind. He had seen enough death in his life, so when given a chance to prevent it he would take it. Not because he wanted to be a martyr, but because there was enough suffering in this world. She did not trust her voice, anything that came out of her mouth would only end in tears and she would not waste this time crying. She brought her hands up to his face and caressed his chin which was unshaven and rough. Fingertips danced over a stubbled cheek as she allowed the smallest of smiles to find her lips. She tilted her head slightly, and as gently as she could, she kissed his lips. They shared a tender embrace, and though it was not as passionate as their other encounters it was no less emotional. There was no ripping of clothes and scattering of buttons. There was no screaming of anyone's name. There was love in its purest form and it was soft…and warm…and kind.
They spent that day making love.
Hours spent mapping his body, memorizing the lines of his lean frame, the contours of his face, the curve of his hip, his scent, his taste, the sound of his breathing, and the beating of his heart. She kissed every inch she could find. She drank him. She inhaled him. She allowed herself to be absorbed by his ebony eyes and reveled in the darkness there because it was his…and hers…and theirs.
And he worshipped her. He flowed into her and through her and around her. She was the sun that burned brightly in his life, that warmed him, and gave him light in the shadows he called home. He encased her in his love because it was all he had left to give.
In the silence that followed they laid together, fighting the fear that was threatening to overwhelm them. Sophie rested her head on Severus's chest, twirling her fingers in the scant fur that covered it. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asked.
"As ready as I will ever be." He brought his hand to her face and lifted her chin to meet his. "I have something for you." Reaching to the nightstand beside the bed he pulled out a small velvet pouch and handed it to Sophie.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she grasped it. Inside the bag was a necklace, a platinum chain that held a small opaque blue stone cut like an emerald. Sophie draped the chain over her fingers and held the stone in her palm. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's the stone from the cavern, right? The seed of magic."
He gave her a warm smile. "I wasn't sure you'd remember. I should have known better."
She snuggled into him. "How could I forget the day my life began?"
It would be a while before either could speak again. Severus took the necklace from her hand and placed it around her neck and began an invocation:
"Entrusted to you, our future lies
upon my word and honor true
and, destined you are to carry forth
giving birth to life anew.
From this seed, may magic grow
in the heart of the bearer be
of faith and love and hope wrought
into the light of eternity."
Sophie waited for something to happen, sparks to fly or her body to tingle or anything that gave the slightest indication that the jewel was something more than a stone. Though it lay cool against her skin, silent ands till, her heart told her it was something more. It was a symbol of a love that grew despite despair. And for some reason it gave her hope.
