Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sainfoin
Hermione was just sweeping up the wrapping paper from where it fell on the ground when she noticed that one of the floorboards had been disturbed.
"What's this?" she asked Crookshanks, who had been watching her open her gifts while swishing his tail.
Underneath the floorboard was a rusty grey toolbox, which had barely any dust resting on it, in contrast with the amount of dust that surrounded the box in the space revealed by the loose board. It looked like it had been opened not too long ago.
"I shouldn't be going through his things," Hermione muttered to herself, as she lifted it out. It was obviously supposed to be secret, but she was overcome with curiosity to learn more about Severus, who was almost as opaque as he had been when they had first begun to work together.
There were no wards or locks on the box, so the contents must not have been very important, she justified to herself.
She opened the box. Inside was a hand-made birthday card. She opened it up, and found "Happy Thirteenth! Love, Lily" written in looping letters. There was a slim black wand, a purple rock vaguely in the shape of a heart, a simple woman's ring with an opal set in a pale gold band, a notebook, and a lock of red hair.
Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, slammed the box shut, and hastily put it back under the floorboard. There was something heart-wrenching about the collection of objects, and suddenly she felt sick in her stomach for intruding on something so obviously private. She remembered the previous glimpse of his heart that she had caught—the doe Patronus, after all this time—and the devotion she saw for a long-dead woman was both breath-taking and heart-wrenching at the same time.
It was not pleasant to be confronted with the depths of her feelings for the man like this.
She could never measure up to Lily Potter, who everyone had said was beautiful, kind, and good. What everyone said of herself was less complimentary than that—shrill, and a know-it-all, and a nightmare. And it was not as if she had ever expected Severus to ever see her differently—that was an utterly impossible and ridiculous idea—but the reminder of the place that Lily Potter had in his life, even now, almost twenty years after her death, had stung.
"This was a bad idea," she said to herself. Crookshanks miaowed in agreement.
Hermione huffed at her familiar. "You could be more supportive, you know," she said. Crookshanks miaowed again as she climbed into bed and drew him to her side.
The past four days had been the best she'd had in a long time. Living with Severus had been so easy, but she realised she was probably interrupting his precious free time, taking away his attention from more important things—like the war—and that while it had been easy for her it couldn't have been easy for him.
She needed to go.
He had obligations in the present, and from his past, that extended far beyond her; she shouldn't intrude upon his time further and continue to enjoy a state of things that never would have happened in any other circumstance. And there was a war going on. She would have to leave the next day before she forgot about all of that.
She hurriedly packed everything she brought with her, as well as her gifts, hesitating over his cloak before holding it firmly in her grasp.
"What are you doing?" he asked, as he observed Hermione dressed in her torn jumper and scuffed jeans while he prepared toast and coffee. She was wearing his cloak again, he saw with a sense of satisfaction.
"I'm...leaving."
The satisfaction instantly faded. "You're not entirely well yet," he pointed out, irrationally displeased. Her hands still showed signs of a mild tremor, though he knew that she would recover fully within a few days. He should want her to go. He should want to be alone.
"I have to go—Harry needs me," she said, wringing her hands.
Of course. Potter. "Of course," he sneered, harsher than he intended.
"There's a war and Harry can't do this without me," she said, shrinking down on herself a little.
"Of course," he said again, gentler this time. "You have everything?"
"Yes, I've got the ointment and the books, and my gifts," she said, pointing to the parcel she had wrapped with brown paper that she had found somewhere. She tugged nervously at his cloak before straightening up and looking back at him defiantly, as if daring him to take it back. As if he could.
Severus swallowed nervously. He had not intended to gift her a cloak for Christmas. He had several useful potions brewing in his lab, but then she had gifted him a scarf. A soft black merino scarf, obviously hand-made. So he had given her his cloak instead. He just hoped that Potter and Weasley were too oblivious to cue her to the usually romantic connotations of the gift, because he could not—
Shaking himself slightly, he banished the useless thoughts. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked. He elaborated at her blank look, "your familiar."
Hermione started. "I thought—I can't take care of him for a while yet—we've got to go to the woods, and we're all—"
"That's right, I forgot," he said, strangely relieved that the cat would not leave him as well, and a little irritated at the audacity of her to assume that he would continue to board the creature.
The creature in question walked into the room at that very moment, and gave a plaintive cry.
"Oh Crooksy," Hermione cooed, picking the cat up and then buried her face into his mane. She hugged the creature tightly, who Severus swore was sending him a smug look.
How low his life had sunk that he was jealous of a cat.
Finally, Hermione let her cat go.
"Well then, goodbye," he said awkwardly, holding his arms by his sides. This could be the last time that he saw her, but he would not humiliate himself by asking to hold her.
Hermione darted forward to give him a brief hug and then walked to the door and he froze in place. "Goodbye then. Take care of yourself," she said with a strained smile, and then a few moments later he heard the front door close. He heard the snap of her Apparition, and then his house was silent again.
He stared at the door, but it remained closed. This was good. Hermione needed to be with her friends, and he needed to stop before he grew accustomed to her presence. Even though it was probably too late for that. It had been just a few days in her company and he never wanted to do without.
The acrid smell of burned toast reached him, and he suddenly found that he had no appetite.
Hermione Apparated to the beach by Shell Cottage and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. She blew her nose on a handkerchief she had borrowed from Severus and conveniently forgotten to return, and ran her cover story through her head.
The door to the cottage opened before she took more than a few steps, and soon she found herself hugged tight by a pale but healthy Luna. Hermione took time to savour being hugged by the much shorter witch, resting her head over Luna's wispy blonde hair.
"I knew you would come for me." Luna smiled, finally breaking their hug, and looked Hermione up and down. "Are you dressing Slavic style now?" Luna asked curiously, while Hermione's thoughts ground to a halt. Just before Hermione could confirm that she indeed was dressing in the Slavic style—of course, what a great idea, Slavic wizards liked their cloaks long though that didn't excuse the long sleeves—-
"Or has the headmaster finally given you his cloak? Was your visit to him good this time?"
Hermione choked on nothing but air. She gripped Luna's arms. "It was good—but Luna, look, it's not—you can't tell anyone—"
"I know, Harry still thinks that the Headmaster is evil, but really he's just very sad," Luna said placidly, removing herself from Hermione's grip and patting her on her arms gently.
"How did you know?" Hermione asked quietly. They had not yet drawn the attention of the other inhabitants of the house.
"I figured it out from what Harry and Ron told me about your Slytherin friend. Don't worry Hermione, you're very good at keeping your mind quiet these days," Luna said solemnly, pale eyes looking straight at her, glowing a soft silvery light in the morning sun.
"That's—very observant of you," Hermione stammered. She shivered slightly in the chill wind, and hoped they would finish the conversation soon so that she could warm up.
"Oh no, I just let my mind run wild with thoughts and they often take me to places other people aren't willing to think about. Sometimes these places happen to be the truth," Luna said with a smile. "Let's go in. Fleur has started breakfast and we might actually get to eat enough because Ronald hasn't woken up yet."
Hermione cracked a weak grin at the reminder that some things were still normal, even if nothing else was, and was about to start walking when her mind screeched to a halt.
"What did you say?" Hermione stared at Luna. The wind picked up a little more, bringing the salty tang of the ocean to her nose. Hermione took out the handkerchief again but put it away hastily when she saw Luna observe the simple monogram at the edge.
"That we should hurry to eat before Ronald wakes?" said Luna.
"No—before that." Hermione felt a rising sense of excitement.
"That I have wild thoughts?" Luna blinked.
"How do you feel about camping in the woods?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling more hopeful about their search for the Lost Woods than she had since the whole thing started.
"I love camping," Luna. "But you just got here, I think we should eat with our friends before you run off and take me with you," she added seriously. Hermione giggled and wrapped an arm around Luna's, and they went into the cozy cottage where the scent of coffee was wafting out from the kitchens.
Hermione was a little overwhelmed by Fleur's breakfast choices, which made her miss plain porridge with Severus. The witch herself had gone to take care of their other guests before briefly pressing air kisses to Hermione's cheeks.
There was toast, and a variety of pastries and spreads, coffee which did not in any way compare with the cup that Severus brewed, and yoghurt and fruit. Of course Fleur and Bill would have a good breakfast spread.
The other surprise was seeing Dean Thomas at the breakfast table.
"Dean was with us at Draco's house," Luna said by way of explanation, which raised more questions than answered.
"Hey, Hermione," Dean said easily, prodding his yoghurt with his spoon.
"Dean! Good to see you," Hermione smiled, taking a seat beside Luna.
"Back from your top secret boyfriend?" Dean asked, smiling back.
"W-what?" Hermione felt her heart rate spike up.
"It's all right, we won't tell anyone." Dean said, still grinning.
"I don't think they're actually together," Luna said, and then, Hermione's heart rate calmed momentarily, "—yet." Hermione found herself struggling for words. "Ronald would be very angry about it though so let's talk about something else," Luna continued on, leaving Dean looking chastised.
"It's...fine," Hermione said. "How are you doing? How did you end up at Malfoy Manor anyway?" she asked Dean.
"I'm doing great, thanks for asking. And oh, that's a fun story," Dean said, expression turning serious. "Harry and Ron have said that they can't tell us what you three have been up to, but I gathered that you lot haven't been around the wizarding world much, which is probably for the best...it's been mental lately."
Dean bit his toast roughly and chewed a few times before washing it down with some coffee. "Do you know about the Carrows? Of course you know about the Carrows. One of them teaches the Dark Arts, and one of them teaches Muggle Studies, which everyone's been forced to take now. It's all just so...wrong. I can't tell you how much I hate it." He paused, frowning down at his plate.
Hermione made a noise for him to go on.
"Carrow would teach the most awful things in Muggle studies, like how Muggles' lives are," here he used air quotes, "'nasty, brutish, and short', and that Muggle culture is dirty and violent and deficient, and that Muggleborns are inferior to Purebloods because we've got dirty blood from all that Muggle in our background, you see? And that we're ruining the wizarding by dirtying the culture with science and our moral degeneracy. So I'd try to correct them or tell them things in class, because Muggles aren't just bombing each other or living in squalor, and even wizards can be poor and fall on hard times, but they didn't like that very much. Got a lot of Crucios for it. Also they didn't like it when I started fighting like a dirty Muggle, but Purebloods are hilariously bad at dealing with that."
Hermione's lips parted in shock. She had heard some of this from Severus, but to hear it from Dean made it all the more real.
Dean shrugged uncomfortably at the expression on her face. "Madam Pomfrey is real handy with treating the after-effects though! And it's not all bad, Luna here has been printing a very brilliant paper that questions the state of the wizarding world and introduces Muggle culture in a way that Purebloods can understand. They've slowly been introducing the idea of genetics, which is fun to see wizards try to get, but…" Dean trailed off, giving Luna a helpless look. Luna wasn't paying close attention to the conversation, focused on her breakfast.
Dear cleared his throat. "Anyway, I got a letter summoning me to be tried at the Ministry before the hols, so I thought I'd leave town, but the Carrows must've really hated me because Crabbe grabbed me on my way out from school, and Goyle grabbed Luna, and that's how we ended up being houseguests of Draco Malfoy. He was a lot less of a git than I thought he'd be though."
"I'm sorry it took so long to get you out," Hermione said quietly.
"It was only a few days, and they didn't do anything worse to us than they did at school. Less so for Luna—none of them liked dealing with her very much. She'd get this look and talk to them and then they would leave, it was brilliant," Dean smiled. "It was worse for Mr. Ollivander," he said, smile dropping. "They Crucioed him pretty badly."
"I've got...some books for that," Hermione said. "I mean, I know how to make a potion and an ointment that will help."
Dean whistled. "You really do know it all, don't you?" Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, but Dean went on before she could get a word in. "I mean, Harry and Ron have been going spare without you, it's obvious you're the brains behind this, but that's nothing new from what we've learned in school. It's good to have you around, Hermione. The Boy Who Lived wouldn't be so alive without you, I reckon."
"It's—" not like that, she thought.
"It's true but I think it makes Hermione uncomfortable to think about it like that," Luna finally chimed in, apparently finished with her breakfast now. "Besides, Harry and Ron aren't entirely helpless without her. They're just mostly clueless. And I think I hear Harry and Ron waking up. We should plan the camping trip with them if you plan on taking them along." Luna stood up, and moved her mug and plate to the sink.
"—yes, of course," Hermione said helplessly while Dean grinned at her. She had forgotten how disorienting being around Luna could be, but the abrupt and awkwardly honest ways of her friend tugged at her heart.
Severus clutched his bottle of Firewhisky and blew out a breath at the stars. They were faint from his bedroom, but he could not bring himself to spend another holiday at Hogwarts where he was now more hated than he had ever been, no matter how clear the stars would be.
He had made the mistake of reading the book of love poems that Albus had left him, and he was starting to think that the book was nothing more than a joke at his expense. A final way for Dumbledore to twist in the knife that Severus never got his happily-ever-after, and never would. Because he was Severus Snape, and things like that didn't happen to him.
Love. What a ridiculous notion.
He rolled over in bed, carefully setting down his Firewhisky, even though he could barely think straight, trying to forget the lines of poetry that he had read.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns.
When someone doesn't believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
He rubbed his eyes. His house certainly felt as empty as his soul.
The smell of Firewhisky burned his nose. He hated the idea of becoming his father, but it had been one of the worst New Year's Eves that he had in a long time. There had been a Death Eater raid earlier that day, and he had watched half a family of Muggles be killed. Their crime was that the mother told fortunes and was a Muggle. Targeting "magic"-practicing Muggles "who made a mockery of magic" had become another one of their excuses to wreak violence against the helpless; it didn't matter that the Death Eaters were the ones making a mockery of magic. Half of them couldn't even cast a proper Severing charm, which made the deaths of the Muggles all the more gruesome.
The Dark Lord had passed a new "no mercy" policy, and the Death Eaters were being especially brutal. Two children—of four—had been killed by the Entrail-Expelling Curse, before he sent Killing Curses at all the children to save them a painful death. The father had let out the most pained sound Severus had ever heard in his life, and rushed at the Death Eaters with a kitchen knife, and the only good thing that had come out of the evening was that Peter Pettigrew had died of a knife wound. That Severus had deepened with a wordless Sectumsempra.
He didn't want to see any of his former colleagues at Hogwarts, who were at least still trying to educate the next generation of young witches and wizards. He didn't want to see Hermione, and tell her that he had ended the lives of four innocent children he could not save, even though their previous conversations had been a balm to his soul.
When he worked under Dumbledore, he had never involved himself in raids like this, because Dumbledore had insisted that he kept his hands clean at the cost of innocent lives and suffering so that he could never be sent to Azkaban, his precious spy far too important to sacrifice. But Albus bloody Dumbledore wasn't around anymore, and he could no longer stand by doing nothing. It wasn't like he was going to survive the war anyway.
He could hear the faint sound of fireworks go off in the distance. He hummed Auld Lang Syne in a low baritone, and then stopped.
He could feel Hermione's familiar crawl up the bed beside him, but he was too exhausted to tell the cat off tonight.
"I hate this war," he said, and Crookshanks miaowed in what sounded like agreement.
He shook his head to clear it of the memories of how the mother and grandparents of the children had looked when they returned home. He had finally found a Muggle police officer to report the "gang crime" to, and come up with enough fake memories so the mother and grandparents of the family would move away in a witness protection program so they would not be there in case Death Eaters returned. He never wanted to hear or see another mother lose her child again.
"It's a new year...it's nineteen ninety-eight...pretty sure the world's ended and we're all just in hell now, well before the last year of the millennium," he muttered, running a hand over his face.
His stomach lurched, but not enough for him to get up yet. Vomit would just be the thing to top his night.
He had hardly eaten anything at Malfoy Manor after the raid, and then had nothing but toast before downing nearly half a bottle of Firewhisky, though he had made sure to open a tin of sardines for the cat. Somebody deserved to enjoy the last day of 1997, and it wasn't going to be him. It had been difficult to return to his state of total emotional detachment after Hermione's stay, another reason to regret the ill-timed awareness of his feelings for her.
"Your mistress...is nothing like the sun," he said to the cat, who blinked at him slowly. He thought of the book of love poetry and snorted. "Nothing like the sun…I can hide from the sun but she's...inevitable? No, no...unavoidable. Can't avoid her when she's dug this far into my skin..." he trailed off, too tired and drunk to try to make sense of himself anymore.
Severus gave up on thinking after that, and soon began to snore softly, unaware that the rest of the world was celebrating a new year.
AN: so sorry for the long delay between updates! I caught an unfortunately common viral infection and have been dealing with the lingering fatigue for the past while, so things have been slow. I'm doing better lately though, and I finished two chapters in the last two weeks, so things haven't been all bad! I have really appreciated all the reviews, and I am going to try to get around to them before my next update. 3