Title: The Fire In Which We Burn
Author: whynoy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Word Count: 12,000
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I play. You don't sue.
Summary:. He would do everything in his power to keep her from remembering. Will it be enough?
A/N: To A. - best friend, soul sister and tax consultant.
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One – Forget and Smile
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Better by far you should forget and smile,
Than that you should remember and be sad
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He sat silently by her bedside, mesmerised by the rhythmical rise and fall of her chest. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the Hospital Wing, bathing her in an ethereal glow. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, one would never guess what she had just gone through.
It seemed like a lifetime ago when he had last had the opportunity to openly watch her. For seven years he had forced himself to make a mental distinction between his first love and the girl in his Potions class, pretending they were two different people, but now that the circle of time was complete, those two people had converged in the sleeping woman he was staring at.
Despite his efforts, there had been moments through the years in which the fine line separating those two Hermiones seemed to disappear. Moments in which he got brief glimpses of the woman she would one day become and was overwhelmed by an irrational fear of her. A fear that generally translated into a particularly venomous attitude towards her and her insufferable friends and much point deduction from Gryffindor.
He had to admit that he hadn't been as successful in applying the same dichotomy to Hermione as to himself. But then again, it was so much easier in his case. After all, what was he now that he had been then? Every vestige of the boy he once was had been burnt out of him with the Dark Mark. Severus absently rubbed his left forearm at the thought and realised the necklace was still firmly clutched in his hand.
In time he had come to hate that emerald pendant because it was the symbol of a promise made not by him, but by a fool he couldn't think of as himself anymore. A promise his present self would never be able to keep. Not that Hermione could ever want him to. Even if what she had felt was really love, it was for his other self, not for the former Death Eater two decades her senior.
And there lay the only flaw in this logic, the only hole in his otherwise perfectly spun web of rationalisation and denial. Hermione had been entirely aware of what he was bound to become, and yet she… Had she perhaps thought she could alter his future? No, she wasn't reckless enough to dare play with the laws of Time Turners.
It was hard to explain, especially considering all the paradoxes of time travel, but Hermione had indeed influenced his choices, even though he remained the only one to ultimately blame for them, of course. Still, as terrifying as the thought was, she had been an important part of his motives to follow the Dark Lord.
He had desperately wanted to become worthy of her for the time when they would meet again, and had let Voldemort's promises of unlimited wealth and power blind him. Severus almost laughed out loud at the irony. His love for a Muggleborn -though at the time he obviously ignored that detail- had fuelled him both to first join and then betray the Dark Lord. The years in between… well, darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, and for a long time he had been too occupied feeding it to hear the faint call of the Light.
But there was no use in wondering or trying to understand the workings of fate, it was all in the past anyway. His and now hers, too. Hermione had given him three months of utter happiness. That was all. He had no right to… no, no right whatsoever.
'And what right do you have to steal her memories away from her?' a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Dumbledore's said in the back of his mind.
Why was he allowed to do this? 'Because it's necessary', came the automatic reply. And that was what his life had been reduced to, since she had left so many years ago. Nothing but acts of necessity. A string of incompletes all lacking the same key element.
Suddenly feeling very old and weary, he sighed and raised his wand.
"Legilimens!"
He saw Hermione in Dumbledore's office, crying, when the door opened and Snape's seventeen-year-old self appeared. He felt her surprise, her anticipation. Barely an ounce of fear, he noted. He had probably been more afraid of her then than the other way around…
Hermione was now sitting at a small desk facing a window, surrounded by books and charts and quills, scribbling frantically on a piece of parchment. He was leaning against the wall, watching her in undisguised awe…
The next moment she was kneeling on the rug beside a glowing fireplace; her smile warm and inviting as she held out a hand to him. The love she had felt at that moment, that he could now feel himself, ran through his chest like a dagger and he lowered his wand.
There they were, the happiest days of his life. Had they truly existed? Had he ever really been so foolish as to believe they would last?
He breathed deeply, steeling himself for what he was about to do, for what had to be done. He tried to convince himself that this wasn't a choice, but a responsibility. It was his responsibility to free her of those memories, he owed her. A thought crossed his mind that the past twenty years had been merely the preparation for this precise moment.
Closing his eyes, he raised his wand once more and whispered, "In memoriam sepultus".
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Quote from Christina Rossetti's 'Remember'. I listened rather obsessively to 'Hurt' by NIN while writing this chapter, suits the mood quite well, I think. There are also a couple of references to John Mayer and the Indigo Girls. Many Chocolate Frogs and points to your House for spotting them!
