Chapter 22: The End of the War
Sorry this took so long – after uploading the latest chapter I did not touch my documents for about four weeks – mainly because, as I predicted, school and trying to create an active social life has taken plenty of my time and even when I have a spare second something else has been on my mind, other than the delicious Severus... I am clearly obsessed and by what it should be obvious. Severus has been haunting my shadows rather than my day for a full three weeks and counting. This is both positive and negative – isn't it healthier to live in reality? He (the infatuation) actually puts me off writing (not verbally – just I don't need to anymore). I may have written more for reviews but... well u can guess well enough.
But how can I keep away from writing? As I said, I can never fully leave fanfictions. I stayed away for a year and came crawling back last time – so this story WILL be completed – unless I die (insha'allah that won't happen) but they will take longer coming – which I think is fair because we are approaching the end. (Well... I dunno what that means to u but to me it still means plenty more writing).
Two years... too long...
To smell the musky scent of the old stone walls and walk down the endless corridors once more... at last she was home.
Two years! She had bared this aching weight for two years. It seemed longer. It seemed shorter.
To say that her 'recovery' was completed that summer was a lie. She had never truly forgotten, though she had gained the ability to ignore. Her smile became more forceful, more powerful but her eyes grew older with every month.
She refused to take a bitter outlook on life, refused to let it get the better of her and become a stronger woman for it.
She took a deep breath and the northern air reached her lungs like a blessing. She would be home in moments.
How her life had been altered from the path she had assumed it would take on leaving Hogwarts. The moment she was separated from this building her life had fallen to pieces. It should keep them together again now she had clumsily repaired them.
She smiled to her chest. Her head was bowed, her large scarlet hood up over her curled brown hair, hiding her face from prying eyes. No one was there to stare but she did not want to be seen just yet. This was a private moment. This moment was hers to savor – when she first saw her old home where she had grown up.
She didn't lift her gaze from the dewy dark grass she treaded flat until she was sure she was close enough.
Her worn brown eyes fed off her fond smile hungrily, deprived of the youthful carefree attitude. There was a distinct sadness that she buried and it showed.
Two years...
Too long...
...Her heart was pounding in her chest with strained worry. She paced stiffly and quickly up and down the kitchen, alongside the table at which Mrs. Weasley sat in a rocking huddle – unable to force out tears under the weight of fear. Hermione could not comfort her; her own frustration and agitation made her too tense and it was impossible to find words of comfort that did not speak their mutual fears.
Her countenance was misted over with anxiety. She was useless and there was nothing she could do about it.
She sped up her pacing.
Grimmauld place was a horrible situation to wait in worry for news of that which you dread most. She wanted to revert back to her old comfort of smashing things within her perilous reach. She itched to but wouldn't cave in.
Diverting her frustration to tears and vigorous pacing was all she could do.
She was furious that she had been excluded. She was willing to die for the cause, more than ready. This was her time to prove her worth and knowledge in the final battle between good and evil. She had been trapped for almost two full years in her hiding and she could never possibly have entertained the idea that when this day came she would remain locked away!
She paused her pacing to violently stamp her foot on the grey stone slab floor and continued.
Mrs. Weasley let out a noisy gasp and Hermione ignored her. The reason she had gasped made Hermione freeze in place, her heart pounding harder than ever and each nerve tingling with dread.
The door had burst open in the hallway.
It was a wild scrabbling race between her and Mrs. Weasley to exit the kitchen first and Hermione skidded out into the hallway, hoping against hope that her fears weren't realized.
Mrs. Weasley pushed her aside roughly when she froze to see for herself, making her almost fly, due to her weakness. Her eyes snapped open wide and the strained tears stopped flowing in pure shock.
Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
Standing before them in the half light was a crowd of people looking worn and at the point of collapse, covered in blood and limping from spells. In the half light of the hallway, now joined by Mrs. Black's screams of protest, Hermione could make out the two figures ahead of the rest of the group.
Harry, eyes closed and panting softly was being supported by an old looking Dumbledore in dark starry robes, practically resting on his shoulder. It did not look as though he could stand by himself.
Propping up his other elbow from behind him was Ron who looked incredibly ashen faced and serious, stained with a huge puddle of blood that dripped steadily from the sleeve of his robe.
Mrs. Weasley would have most likely crushed the last of the life out of the standing men had she not been crying uncontrollably for happiness and had to rest against the wall.
Hermione raced forwards to meet them and Dumbledore did not object when she pried Harry out of his brittle grip and took him into her own arms, finding a new strength within her to support the two of them. She held him up so his face was close to hers and looked him hard in the eyes. He blinked back. His emerald eyes were glazed with pain and exhaustion but they were alive.
Hermione was overcome with such joy she began to kiss every inch of his face, smudging the dirt with her tears. Dumbledore gave them a weary smile and turned to leave. Discussion and explanations were for other times. Now was the time for relief and recovery. He swept back out through the door and no one noticed him disappear swiftly.
Hermione was now crushing Harry's weak body in a tight hug and sobbing against him. A pale Ron and his sister who was even paler came forward to rescue their hero from an overjoyed Hermione. Normally it would have been Mrs. Weasley that would have about killed him in her tight embraces but she was still struggling for air through her happy sobs into a handkerchief.
Hermione didn't want to let go of her dear friend but when she looked up and saw the two relieved, tired, battle-worn faces she almost dropped Harry and obliged in handing him over to Tonks and Moody who were the only other people who had returned along with the Weasleys and Harry. Bill was limping off with Charlie towards the kitchen but Hermione hardly noticed. A fact that she would later learn was that the others were either at Hogwarts awaiting Dumbledore or in St Mungos recovering serious curse wounds.
But in her selfish state of happiness she didn't care who had been hurt or how many casualties there had been because her dearest friends were still alive. They were okay.
She hadn't noticed the lack of Draco's silent presence.
Moody and Tonks caught Harry between them and proceeded to lead him after Bill and Charlie, followed by the drawn-faced twins who were now honored by Harry's mere company.
Faces thrown by the half candlelight, the twins paused to reconcile their mother into getting up and following them into the kitchen with Harry which wasn't that hard to do.
Hermione stared up at the siblings that belonged to the group of her best friends and with tears shining in her eyes and Mrs. Blacks screeches filling their ears, embraced both of them at once tightly and broke down against them...
Her world had not been shattered.
But it was less than two months ago that the end of Voldemort's reign had come to light, and now she was returning to Hogwarts. Why her heart wasn't as light as a feather and her step a light skip had a simple answer to it: Hermione had grown up. She was aged and saw the world with a serious knowing that made her appreciate the fact that just because Voldemort had gone didn't mean the world was perfect once more. It had never been perfect to begin with.
Voldemort had claimed so many lives but not of those closest to her and so she should not have been able to value their sacrifices the way she did as though they had been dear to her too.
But as she scuffed her way through the lawns up to the castle all she could think was that some things in her world would never change.
Her first two years of Uni had been completed in the confines of a mansion/house and the magnificent grounds which she would miss more than anything, including the pool.
The mark on her arm had long since faded after that night. It was amazing to think that something so seemingly permanent could fade away so quickly. The memory off its clarity faded with it like the memory of pain does.
And now...
Her thoughts of apprenticeship's entails were interrupted most violently when she felt a piercing gaze on her face shadowed beneath her hood.
She looked up and her breath hitched in her chest.
It had been the most painful kick in the groin he could imagine...
Start of term feasts always depressed him and now more than ever. Though he was eternally relieved from the dangerous duty of a spy and "happy" at the death of the Dark Lord, he still loathed life. Students who were overjoyed and returning with light hearts would mean much more work and a lot more endless chatter about the Boy Who Lived, recently re-titled nothing more than: Our Hero.
The buzzing talk would swamp his precious thoughts more than they had in twenty years tonight, he could feel it already. His prowled up out of the dungeons with a glower strong enough to kill you twice, if expressions so had the power to induce death. Luckily he did not face any students in the halls yet. That would start as of tomorrow.
Any student at Hogwarts who had been there three years or more would tell you that something had happened to the bitter Potions Master two years ago that had made him more vile, repulsive and caustic than he had been before. Anyone who had not observed this change would argue Snape could not get worse than he was but worse in behavior he had become.
He hated students more than ever and never wasted an opportunity to give them hell which gave him a cruel sense of satisfaction.
The first and second years (which, once they returned from the Hogwarts express tonight, would be second and third years) had heard tell of some student Snape had fallen in love with and she had loved him back but something happened and she was never heard from again. Of course they hadn't believed it! How could they even consider that cold black-clad man to have feelings or even have them returned? It was beyond perception.
Some of the tales were pretty wild and some were near accurate but either way they just made Severus more furious that he should be discussed to often in student chit chat. It was a mockery to his very existence to be part of their mindless conversation!
He rushed up into the Grand Entrance, black cloak billowing out behind him and he stopped abruptly at the base of the marble steps to observe the flow of brainless zombies filing into the Great Hall so that his cloak swung round the base of his raven robes. His black eyes, sharp and narrowed, glinted malevolently as he watched the laughing students amble past in clumps. They were ignorant to his scowl or paid him no mind.
He had been just about to grudgingly join the flow in the direction of the hall, as was his duty as a teacher, when his attention was caught by an unfamiliar sight. By unfamiliar sight, it was a person who he had not seen before and did not fit in with the main crowd. It was most definitely a woman. She was heavily cloaked and hooded and it looked as though she had been walking through the lawns rather than riding in the carriages with the students. There were grass stains all around the hem of her scarlet robe.
He folded his arms across his chest as he would often tend to do when contemplating a mystery and kept his ground firm, preferring to observe this new person.
She had a mournfully heavy walk for someone who had seen the end of the war not too long ago and the need to hide her face aroused his curiosity.
He could not see her face clearly but caught a glimpse of a few chocolate tendrils of hair hanging about it and a shine where the bright light reflected from the candles of the Great Hall hit her eyes.
He had seen this woman before.
He frowned harder in concentration at where he might place the distinctive shape of her eyes or the few locks of hair when she raised her face to look into his eyes.
As mentioned above, it had been an untimely, unwarned and fairly painful kick in the groin.
He didn't need a second moment to recall where he had seen those almond eyes or those brown curls. He knew her instantly for who she was but also saw the shadows and changes in her face that he had not seen in the face that was so well imprinted in his memory.
Hermione.
And around her wide, appealing innocent-looking eyes had been ravaged by pain and distraught and touched by age and wisdom. Her expression wasn't light but drawn close to her bones. Her ringlets hadn't changed.
He had not been prepared for this.
For two years all he had longed to see was her face. So many words he wanted to say to her and at the unanticipated blow of the sight of her all recited words failed him.
It was unbelievable he managed to maintain composure because he felt as though every single last measure of breath had been drained out of him.
He saw, through his haze of shock, her eyes fill suddenly with old emotions first of desire, followed by a horrid blend of pain and then both feelings were wiped from her expression which darkened poisonously. She glared at him with a hatred he could never hope to match.
"You..." she hissed threateningly. His blood ran cold at the way she addressed him, even though he had been mentally preparing himself for this repeatedly. She truly hated him... he could see it.
Hermione wanted to melt and die right on the spot. How could she have been so stupid as to assume he had died in the attacks? He was like a cockroach... he couldn't die even when he wanted to. How was she to survive the next three years with him in her presence?
And, most of all, why wasn't he in Azkaban for all his crimes?
There it is.
I'm so stupid aren't I? Go ahead and scream at me! I feel guilty because apart from the first paragraph, I wrote this whole chapter tonight (now when I saw whole chapter...). I'm sorry it's so small but this is where it was supposed to stop anyway. I know, I know. I should update more, or write more.
I have been so busy! I love my life though so please be happy for me. You know, if I got more reviews I would write more often. I'm serious! Don't think I'm blackmailing or anything because once the reviews for the last chapter stopped (which they did pretty quickly) my writing stopped until I decided tonight that it was ridiculous.
But, like this chapter, the next ones will be a while. I'm getting a life people and I like it. I don't ever want to leave this wonderful country with such wonderful people! I also just bought an electric guitar – which I'm taking up. I'm not completely new at it because I used to do Spanish guitar for two years, years ago but I hardly remember any of it, just how to hold a guitar and read music. So now I just need lotsa music, lotsa practice and ill be happy! (in short this means writing time is even less – reserved for when I go online to chat at night).
But, I did promise this story would be finished and though u may have worried about this chapter coming up at all, I did do it.
So buckle up for a wait (but it may be a short wait, I dunno, now I'm back in the swing of things). But review please! They really make me happy and encourage me to keep writing rather than other stuff.
Lol, im seriously not blackmailing u!
Snakecharmer (hangs head guiltily for late chapter).