Castaways on a Sullen Sea
By weasleywheezes
Chapter 7 – The Lonely Villa
Christmas break arrived, and Hermione was looking forward to spending the holiday with the Weasley family. She was no longer upset about not spending more time with her mother. She was increasingly absent from Hermione's life, and Hermione felt that perhaps it was for the best.
She always felt tingly when she had to travel by Floo Powder, but since people could not Appariate from Hogwarts, it was the only way to get to the Burrow, a place she had long considered her second home. Ron and Harry were already at the Weasley house by the time Hermione arrived. There was never a more joyous occasion at the Burrow than Christmas. Once she crossed the threshold of the mantle, she looked around her. The house was filled with presents, evergreen boughs and trees, the smell of baking, and scads of red heads running around boisterously. Looking up towards the Weasleys clock, she saw that everyone except Mr. Weasley (whose hand pointed toward "Work") was there.
"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, and ran to hug her. "I'm so glad you could make it. Tell me, love, is your mother all right?"
"Yes. She just wants to be alone this year," Hermione said.
Charlie and Bill came in from outside, caked with mud and gasping for breath. "We were just chasing gnomes," Bill chortled, as he waved to Hermione.
"Oi! Look who made it!"
"George! How's it going?"
George peeked at her through his hand knit sweater. "Great. Fred's upstairs. He's working on an exploding snap that will play Christmas carols. We hope to have it ready by tomorrow, we're testing it on Percy now."
Hermione smiled. The Weasley twins, while always vexing in school, were actually two of her closest friends. She envied their joie de vivre, and their willingness to disregard the rules. At times, she wished she were more like them. She left the kitchen area and went upstairs towards Ron's quarters. The room hadn't changed much since the first time she had seen it. The Chudley Cannons poster was still on the wall, along with a Gryffindor banner, and a pair of moth-eaten socks, obviously given to him by Dobby. A picture of Emma, blowing a kiss, was on his bedside table. Harry and Ron sat on the floor, playing Wizard's Chess.
"Hermione! I've found someone who actually pays attention to play chess with me."
Harry looked up and grinned. "Happy Christmas."
Hermione sat next to Harry and glanced at the chessboard. "Ron's going to beat you."
"Ron always beats me. I don't understand how people say he's daft…"
"Hey!" Ron said indignantly.
"…Because he's brilliant at chess." Harry smiled and moved a rook.
Hermione stared at the game pieces, remembering what Ron had said to her months before – you'd never do anything stupid like fall in love with Snape. She surely couldn't tell them now. Maybe she would wait until they were out of school. Maybe she didn't have to tell them at all!
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"Oh, sorry, Ron. I was just thinking."
Ron declared he was starving, and went down to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the bright orange bedroom. Harry grabbed her hand. "What's wrong? I can tell something is, Hermione," he murmured. The concern in his eyes was evident.
She sighed. "I really don't know, Harry…I can't tell you."
"Does it have anything to do with Ron?"
Hermione laughed. "No. Nothing to do with Ron."
"Has it anything to do with Crookshanks?"
"No, my cat is fine. I'm fine, Harry. You have to trust me."
Harry stared at the floor. "I think I know. You are in love."
Hermione's mouth dropped. She fumbled for words, but Harry interrupted her. "Who is it? I won't tell. I promise," he teased. "Is it Percy?"
She leapt to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I just can't tell you."
Ron came back up to his room, turkey sandwich and pickles in one hand, a bottle of butterbeer in the other. Hermione brushed by his shoulder and ran towards the safety of Ginny's room.
"Hey!" Ron yelled after her, pieces of turkey flying out of his mouth. "Wure's te fire, 'Ermnee?"
"Not fair!" Harry exclaimed. "I told you all about Cho!"
Another lonesome Christmas. Severus hated the holiday season since before his father disappeared. To Severus, Christmas was but another day in which people who hated each other spent more time screaming at one another. It made him yearn for a place to belong to. In fact, it was around this time that he first thought of joining the Death Eaters.
During the holiday season, Severus usually stayed at Hogwarts, but this year, he went to his ancestral home, the only vestige of history he could cling to. The Italianate villa, soft beige stucco with red clay tile roof, was a rambling old building on chaotically manicured 20 acres. Severus lived there alone, save one elderly house-elf named Gromnett. Severus had emancipated the elf before he became a Death Eater but the servant stayed on, pledging his devotion to the heir of the Snapes.
Once, the villa had been exquisite, with spectacular Antiques and invaluable fine art, but that was before Raphael abandoned the family. Etienne sold most of the paintings, and allowed the furniture to fall into disrepair. Severus had to beg her to keep the marble statues of his Snape predecessors. It was only after Etienne died that Severus was able to buy back a few of the priceless works of art that had once been his by birthright.
After he joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, Severus left the pied-à-terre in the hands of Gromnett, and went to live in a cramped hovel near Voldemort's lair further in country. He had wanted to separate his childhood home from his new adult life. Now he was happy he made that choice.
Severus walked around the grounds, surveying his many trees. He loved trees. In the Muggle world, he thought he would have been an arborist. It was during these quiet times when he was on his own with he most majestic handiwork of Creation that he felt closest to fulfilment. It was also when he feared being alone most. All he seemed to do was think about Harry Potter.
Potter. He still burned with loathing for James, and still did not trust the son, but he knew deep down that Harry wasn't James in any way except for his unruly hair and Quidditch skills. He also knew that Potter did not care for him, either, but still he continued to save him. Why was it that his existence rested solely on the shoulders of a person he reviled?
Severus thought about Hermione Granger. No doubt she was happy on this day of celebration, spending the holiday with Potter and the Weasleys, enjoying pies and stews and receiving those horrid sweaters from Molly. Not for the first time, Severus was envious of the tight-knit clan, wishing that every year he had a warm, jovial place to return to.
He returned to his ruined villa, sank to the granite tile in the foyer, and wept.
TWO WEEKS LATERHermione was never more delighted to return to Hogwarts after her excursion to the Burrow. The constant bustle of Weasleys, tracking gnomes, flying haphazardly on brooms and causing various household items to become enchanted was exhausting. The serenity of the Head Girl's room seemed like an extravagance now.
She had written to Viktor Krum inviting him to her graduation ceremony, and received the reply while she was at the Burrow via a large Arctic gull. Harry, who kept asking her if it was Viktor she was in love with, and Ron, who fumed with anger every time the Hungarian's name was mentioned, shadowed Hermione every time she wanted to read the note. With her return to the privacy of her Head Girl room, she was finally able to read the response he had sent. She could almost imagine him saying it to her.
Hermione, I am so sorry, but I cannot make it to your graduation. I will be doing some special Quidditch camp in Switzerland, but I hope you have a very nice time. Maybe we can see each other soon. With all apologies, Viktor.
She tucked the letter into a toile box, where she kept all of the owl posts he had sent to her. She tied the ribbon keeping the lid on the box, and placed a jinx on it in case someone snooped in her room. Since Harry and Ron were not allowed in her room, she didn't have to worry about them reading Viktor's letters, but there was Ginny, who thought having such an exotic and famous owl pal was the most exciting thing a person could do.
Opening her windows to let fresh air in, she took the opportunity to look out over the landscape of Hogwarts. Gryffindor Tower had a perfect view of the grounds, almost as good as the Astronomy Tower. Hermione noticed the lake. After being tied to a post at the bottom of it, it no longer held the mystery it once did. She looked closer. Even with its eerie stillness, it was nonetheless extraordinarily beautiful. It made her think of Professor Snape – it wasn't all it seemed to be at the surface, either.
Hermione took Crookshanks in her arms and cradled him. She saw a tiny flicker of light near the shore. Someone was down there. She wondered if it were Harry and Ron on some escapade, underneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, looking for something to play a practical joke on Emma and Ginny. She had told no one about her emergent feelings for Snape, despite nearly blurting them out to Ginny during Christmas holiday. Her overwhelming fear was that Harry and Ron would find out and desert her.
Hermione remembered what Ron had told her so many months before, and that was just his jumping to conclusions. If he knew the truth, Ron would likely murder her and the professor both. Harry was a different story. He would know exactly what she was going through. He had the constant problem of people believing his godfather was a mass murderer. People always believed the worst about Sirius Black, sometimes even the worst about Harry himself. Hermione knew that he would understand that you cannot choose who you love. On the other hand, she also knew that there was no one, save Voldemort himself, that Harry detested more than Professor Snape. He would never forgive his best girl for falling in love with his most hated foe.
Staring out into the darkness, she knew that she was in an impossible situation. It was all so confusing. All she knew for certain was that, in a few months, she would be leaving Hogwarts forever, and possibly never see Snape again. A year ago, she would have been ecstatic. Now, it seemed the worst possible thing to happen.
Severus sat in his chair, absentmindedly reading a well-worn copy of Lord Byron. He ran his hands through his hair. It was still damp from the bath, having properly scrubbed himself after a long day of potions. Severus stroked his temples, feeling as though he had not slept in weeks. "She walks in beauty, like the night," he said, as he closed the tome.
"She walks in beauty," he repeated, as he filed the book away on his shelf. He went back to his leather chair and plunked himself down. He took a small elastic and pulled his hair back. If I could touch her, he thought. If I could merely embrace her, just once, maybe I would be sated…it's improper! But it's not, Severus. She will no longer be your student.
He tried to quell his inner dialogue, but he kept coming to the same conclusion. The reason he could not stop thinking of Hermione Granger was because he was in love with her. The thought stopped him dead in his tracks. He took a piece of parchment, a quill, and bottle of ink, wrapped himself in a long cloak, and started outside towards the lake.
Severus spread the cloak on the ground near the banks of the pond, muttered an incantation for light to write by, and started to put onto paper what he had been fantasizing:
Oh! Woman fair!
If I could be thine
I would consume the pain
To make thee wholly mine.
He stopped and looked up towards Gryffindor Tower. When was the last time he had strolled to the lake, quill in hand, and written a poem to a girl who lived in that very tower? Had it truly been more than twenty years? He looked at his hands. They were still long, graceful, and strong, but with rough calluses and dry patches that belied his profession. He could remember so many years ago, when he was still a young man, when his hands were smooth and silky. He had everything in front of him – a brilliant career in Defense of the Dark Arts with the Ministry in his future, perhaps even a life of travelling the world – and he had thrown it all away, for what? Voldemort? He paused and looked at his hands again. He was suddenly queasy at the sight of them. He used those hands to aid Voldemort. He used those hands to brew the potions that killed so many innocent people. There was nothing pure and good about him, and there was only good and purity in Hermione Granger.
Severus glanced back at the parchment. The ink had begun to bleed due to the dampness of the grass seeping through his cloak. He sighed and moved his paper.
For you are what you are,
And I am Slytherin.
He shook his head. "Hermione…" he quietly uttered, knowing she would not hear his whispered ardour for her.
Let us rend the veil
That separates them.
"If only I could," he thought, thinking about the young girl who consumed his thoughts. It seemed so unlikely, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, but if anyone could defy logic, it was Hermione Granger.