Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.
Author Notes: I have a very vague idea on where I want to go with this. But it is going or at least sputtering along.
Warning: post-HBP, therefore spoilers.
A Reunion, A Visit
After the short stay at Hermione's house, they arrived to The Burrow in a puff of smoke from Floo network. Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace and stepped quickly away out of the way as the fireplace spat out Ron in a disgraceful splat with Harry tripping over him in a painful crash. They tumbled jokingly while entangling themselves and knocked several cookbooks over. The plump cook on the cover of Enchantments In Baking squawked at the abuse.
"Ronald Weasley, stop roughhousing this instance!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "Gave me such a fright, I thought someone--" Her last words were muffled in Harry and Ron as she gave them a tight squeeze and tried to rubbed the bit of sot from Ron's freckled face.
"Mum," Ron whined and struggled out of Mrs. Weasley's embrace. The pink spot remains from his mother's insistent rubbing.
"Go clean up, dinner is almost ready," Mrs. Weasley made a shooing gesture with her hands and turned to Harry. "How was the trip, Harry?"
Harry smiled, "It was fine, Mrs. Weasley."
"Good, good," Mrs. Weasley mumbled and herded the boys upsides. "Hermione, good to see you, Ginny is waiting for you upstairs." Mrs. Weasley gave her a warm smile before turning back to her cooking.
Hermione replied politely, "Thank you."
A strange sense of awkwardness swept through her as she observed her surroundings. Nothing had changed since last summer. The Weasley's cramped kitchen had a homey and cozy feeling. The cookbooks were now placed back on the mantelpiece and the magic clock hung above it. The hand with Ron's name etched in just landed on "home". She tried to squash the feeling of loneliness with her logical mind. It simply didn't make sense to feel lonely. She was sick for feeling lonely. Sometimes, she wondered that maybe there was just something fundamentally wrong her. Hermione sighed. She always felt somewhat out of place surrounded by the boisterous Weasley family and Harry, who might as well, dye his hair red and draw freckles on his face. She took a deep breath and reminded herself silently that Harry needed her to be here and dragged her trunk up the unsteady stairs.
She was huffing halfway up the stairs when Ginny rushed down with her red locks shinning in the fading sunlight and her blue eyes filled with mirth. Hermione suppressed the twinge of envy at Ginny's newfound confidence, pretty face, and soft curves before greeting Ginny with a one-armed hug; her other arms protested adamantly against the weight of her trunk.
"Hermione!" Ginny gave her a warm hug and helped her with the heavy trunk. "Your parents let you come? I thought they would want to you to go with them."
She had almost forgotten the disagreement between her parents and her concerning their trip to the States and her stay at the Burrow amidst the rush of anxiety with an Aurors-guarded trip to the nearest Floo network. "Yea," she bit her lips momentarily, "I told them to enjoy the tour at America."
"Why didn't you go?" Ginny kicked a stack of books and magazines out of the way and shifted her trunk toward the corner of her room. "It would have been fun."
Hermione shrugged. "I thought you guys might need me." She flashed Ginny a soft grin.
"Always thinking of others," Ginny teased, "You are too good for Ron."
She blushed and rolled her eyes. "Nothing is even happening." She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt.
"Eventually," Ginny sighed, "Boys are just slow."
"Harry will come out his hero complex sooner or later." Hermione smiled sympathetically but the smile quickly disappeared at Ginny's hardened expression.
"I don't mind Harry being a hero, Hermione," Ginny replied sharply, "I just don't like the fact that he feels like he need to do everything alone."
She was taken back at Ginny's protective remark for Harry. "Of course," she said softly. The sudden awkwardness tugged at her heart again.
"Come on, let's go to dinner," Ginny mumbled. "Mum will be calling us soon. We are eating in the garden because the twins are coming over for dinner. Bill is still away with Fleur."
The cheerful atmosphere dissipated and aftertaste of something sour clung to the air. Hermione followed Ginny to the garden wondering whether coming to the Burrow was a mistake.
The argument with her parents left her uneasy. Her parents had worked hard to establish a tour that teaches children dental and nutritional care. It was relatively local but it picked up speed by the end of Hermione's first year and they had made several appearances at the nearby towns. Now, they expanded it to a national level. The schools were so impressed by the amount of support from the parents that they gained attentions in the States.
Her parents wanted her to come with them to the States. She knew how much they missed their daughter, the daughter that was normal, and the daughter that all their friends seemed to have, who went to the malls and worried about colleges. She remembered the teary goodbyes. Her parents were so astonished that she was so distressed at their departure that they almost offered to stay but she urged them to go and have fun. Her parents boarded the airplane happier after her assurance that she would be fine and silently, she hoped they would be too. Given the relatively small number of wizardry communities in the States, Hermione hoped that her parents would be safe from the impending chaos in Europe.
She smiled wistfully at the thought of her parents. They always have worked together. Sometimes she wondered did they love each other in the traditional romantic way or just a perfect partnership that leaked into their personal life. They were never overly affectionate with each other, maybe an occasional peck on the cheek. They complimented each other so well in their work that their marriage almost seemed cold. Hermione shooed those random thoughts away as she turned her attention to the piece of meatloaf that she was probing at for the last few minutes.
"Hermione," Ron nudged her elbow, "Don't think too hard. It's just meatloaf." The Weasleys and Harry roared with laughter.
She shoved lightly at Ron. "I was just thinking when you were going to learn some manner, Ronald," she said sweetly and took a bite out of her broccolis as Ron turned beet red and grin good naturally, showing the chewed up mixture of broccolis and meatloaf.
Hermione laughed but something still did not feel right.
She glared at the meatloaf; she needed to stop thinking.
A loud pop and a man appeared. He looked misplaced with his long black robes and long wooden stick surrounded by a microwave and a refrigerator.
"Severus!" a woman yelped in surprised, spilling coffee on the table. "You always have to make an entrance don't you," she said scornfully.
Snape turned to look at the woman in an oversized sweatshirt and fuzzy navy slippers. She sat with her feet on her chair and her knees tucked under her chin. "I sent an owl."
"Yes." The woman wiped the coffee with a towel, barely sparing Snape a glance. "Imagine my surprise when I found a owl tapping against my window at four in the morning. The bloody thing nearly scratched out my eye." She looked directly at Snape and felt the excruciating hours spent in front of her laptop. As surprise as she was by the visit, she was too tired to play the Slytherin game of circling the opponent like an indecisive snake (right or left, to strike or not to strike) for several hours.
"What do you want, Severus?" Blunt and direct, god, she needed some aspirin. She looked at the cabinet behind Snape longingly.
"A favor."
The woman's eyebrow rose so high that it was almost obscured by her curtain of long black hair. She tossed her hair aside and gave Snape a hard glare. "Six years of silence and you come ask lil' ol' me for a favor." She gave a short deriding chuckle. "Severus. Severus. What have you been up too in the last six years? Old boss came knocking on your door." She sipped the reminder of her coffee.
"Ayla," he said softly.
"Don't call me that, Snape," she sneered. "Leave me alone and let me live my life." She stalked over to her sink, brushing pass him, and rinsed her coffee mug.
"Ayla, don't be stubborn--" He stopped and took a moment to cursed himself, before trying to apologize.
"You slipped, Severus. Never insult someone who can help you." her voice was much softer, he realized. More dangerous, he concluded. "Don't think so highly of yourself. I didn't leave just because of you. You can go served your almighty lord dressed in all spooky darkness. Do you understand that I made a choice and frankly, unlike you, I am happy with my choices! This is my life now. I am not Ayla anymore, Severus."
"Yes, I remember that clearly enough."
"Severus, stop it. Stop your bitterness," Ayla said exasperatedly, rubbing her temples. Hogwarts was too long ago; she was too tired to dig through her memories for the Handbook for Conversing with a Slytherin. She wondered fleetingly whether throwing her coffee mug at Snape would induce him to leave. She hesitated and stared at her sink before turning around. "So why did you come here? What's the favor?"
"I need to make sure he gets to it safely." Snape handed her a small, moving picture. His fingers lingered for a moment on her hand and trying say something but shutting himself up beforehand.
He was always like that. Ayla shook the thought away and turned her attention to the picture with a startled countenance. "You are so sure that I remember 'it'." She smirked. "So sure I know about 'it'."
"If you didn't know about it, surely, you won't know what I am talking about."
"I suppose." She was still skittering around, refusing to commit herself to the request.
"I need your help," he stated, "Dumbledore is died." He kept his face completely emotionless.
Ayla's head snapped up at his news. She peered into his eyes and his expressionless face. "You!" she exclaimed.
His jaw clenched. "Yes."
"How could you, Severus?" Ayla cried, fire burning in her eyes. She was livid and distraught. The Muggle world had made her forget too many things. "You have the nerve to come into my home and demand me to help your worthless lord. What? You want to kill me now! Leave, Severus." She was shaking with anger. Weeks of sleep depravation were breaking her sanity and now, this. She refused to cry in front of this despicable man.
"Ayla." His knuckles were white and his lips pursed together from saying anything he would regret. He needed her help. "It was necessary."
"Yes the whole greater good theory," she mocked. "Well, I don't give a flying damn!" She threw her arms up to emphasize her point.
In a blurring moment, Snape was centimeters away from her face and his grip on her wrists was leaving bruises. "Listen to me, Ayla. Yes, I killed Dumbledore. Yes, you have every right to hate me but remember you will never hate me more than the loath I have for myself. You must make sure that the he gets it and you will make sure he destroys it."
"What?" Ayla cried; she didn't care if she drowned him with her spittle. "You think he will destroy it. Are you made? He will never destroy it, Severus. He will never. He was born and raised to hail the loony bin like you. All a bunch of--"
He shook her to make her stop her rant. "You will make sure he will."
"How, Prince?" He flinched ever so slightly at her reference to his pseudonym. "Should I imperio him or did you forget that I can't do that anymore?"
"You can," Snape said curtly.
She gave a cheerless laugh. "I gave everything up, Severus. Everything damn thing," she sneered, "I made sure I can't be involved and I won't be. And even if I can, what if I don't want to?" She challenged, lifting her chin up defiantly.
"Then more will die," he said quietly.
Ayla shoved him away and he let her. "Severus, what fucked-up plan is brewing in your mind? Why involved me? I just want to be left alone." She cradled her face in her hands; her hair cascaded down her shoulders and obscured her face from view. She was so tired that he almost wanted to comfort her; he squashed that thought.
"I never thought of you to be the type to be lonely," he resumed his usual nonchalant drawl.
"Shut up, Severus. You never thought much of anyone but yourself," she snapped and gave him a scathing glare. "Why me?"
"Because I trust you, Ayla." He watched the subtle changes on her face like the undercurrents beneath the calm sea.
She curved her lips up. "A first time for everything, I supposed." Silently, he watched her played with her long black hair and took out his wand. She had relented; he knew her so well. "It is goodbye again, huh?" Ayla twirled her hair around her index finger absentmindedly. "When are you going to find peace, Severus?"
He was genuinely surprised at her question. "I wouldn't know where to look."
Ayla scoffed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "No, Severus. You just hold on too tight."
"Goodnight, Ayla."
"Goodnight, Severus," she murmured.
He was already gone.
Author Notes: I have a nasty habit of posting chapters, taking them down, posting edited chapters, and taking them down. Lather, rinse, and repeat. I add stuff, delete stuff, change stuff, especially at the beginning of a new story. If it bothers anyone, drop me a line.
Please, review. Tell me what you think.
Icy