All Characters are property of J.K Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.
Silhouette
Chapter XV
"It'll be dark soon," Severus said. He pulled his hood over his head; the skies had opened up and the freezing drizzle that had greeted them had shifted to a fine shower of cold rain. "This weather is likely to be a problem."
"I know," Hermione agreed. "Did you happen to see the Portkey went?"
"I haven't," admitted Severus. He gestured vaguely in the direction where he thought it might be. Truly, he had no idea. "It can't have gone far."
Hermione cast a deliberate glance around where they had been dropped. Satisfied that they were properly by themselves she retrieved her wand and made a wide arc in front of her. "Accio Portkey!"
The rock pick shot upwards from where it landed, casting up clumps of snow and browned sea grass. It stopped neatly beside her in the air and floated there, waiting to be taken.
"I've reserved two rooms at a local hotel—Hotel Víðsýni…" she said, her thoughts sounding elsewhere as she put their means back to London safely in her bag.
"You say that like it's a problem," said Severus.
"Not a problem, per say," Hermione said, "but apart from being within walking distance of where we need to be, I don't exactly know where we are at the moment." She walked further up the knoll and turned around with her wand floating above her upturned palm. It swiveled slowly as she moved, the tip always pointing the same direction. "The basalt formations are to the southwest; the ocean at true south—that means this…" she said pointing over her shoulder, "This way is—"
"Northeast," interposed Severus.
"Yes, northeast," Hermione agreed with a slight smile. "We need to go this way. Once we reach that ridge up there, we should be able to see Vik and the hotel right against the beach. I'd guess no more than a thirty or forty-minute walk."
Severus gave her a long appraising look. "Have you memorized all this?"
"No." Hermione tried to mask the hard inflection she had placed upon the word, but he still heard it plainly enough. "My sense of direction is just stronger than most. Turns out being on the run for almost a year will reveal a wide range of hidden abilities."
She turned and started up the embankment without waiting for a reply, like he had somehow offended her. And really, Severus reflected as he watched her walk away, he had.
The terrain was uphill and treacherous underfoot, jagged and slick with volcanic stones and half-frozen puddles from the looming glacier and recent snowfall. Severus slipped into a steady pace a few steps behind Hermione as they walked in silence over the rocky landscape, allowing her to take a slim lead as recompense for his earlier slight. He realised that, despite his best effort, he had misjudged her again.
Five words had reduced her to what they both knew he had always believed her to be; shortsighted in her reliance upon memorization and the regurgitation of facts and theories while simultaneously failing to grasp the nuances behind them. He had not stopped to consider that she might actually know what she was doing. She had proven herself capable on more than one occasion, so something as simple as being able to navigate in a foreign land should have hardly come as a surprise. The real question, Severus wondered, was why, after all of their recent interactions, had he not expected it?
As the wind whipped the rain and his hair against his face, Severus found his thoughts willingly traveling back to what he knew from her time on the run. The memories came at him in snatches, mostly vague recollections of false trails and suspected sightings passed along by third parties. Most were hard to remember, tainted by snake venom and disjointed from months of unconsciousness, but after a moment of effort he was able to settle upon one with some semblance of real clarity.
It was the night she had inadvertently disclosed their location in the Forest of Dean; such a simple act that would come to set the course straight for the Battle of Hogwarts. His forced seclusion in the Headmaster's office had been interrupted when Phineas Nigellus Black came with the news. Severus could remember the euphoric relief at the former Headmaster's declaration, and then Black called her a Mudblood and ruined it all.
It had infuriated him, and as his eyes settled on the back of the hooded young woman forging the way in front of him, he realised it infuriated him still. Had Phineas not been a means to an end, Severus would have seen to the portrait's disposal himself then and there, but he was also a man with a job to do. And the sodding job always took precedence over everything else, including making an example of a long dead bigot. Not long after Hermione made her mistake, Severus had Apparated to the dense, dark forest with a tumultuous mood and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor and began to walk.
Though the two places could not have been more different, Severus reflected, walking in the wilds of Iceland was a lot like walking through the Forest of Dean in that they had both led to an episode of unexpected introspection that often eluded him. He was allowed, for a short while, to simply exist in a placid tedium of putting one foot in front of the other, serenely beyond the reach of duty and obligation. For a moment, all life required of him was his willingness to walk on, and his very being was given a chance breathe.
Severus exhaled deeply and his breath caught in a cloud in front of him before being swept away by the wind. Surprisingly, what he could recall of his time walking alone in the Forest of Dean did not go the way of the wind as he had expected, but instead he was able to see that night with vivid lucidity, as though it were happening again in real time.
He remembered that it had taken him over two hours of uninterrupted walking to find where they had set up their encampment and the small frozen lake where he would later hide the sword. It would be another three hours of waiting for her to swap sentry duties with Undesirable No.1 before he could do as Albus had instructed and lead Potter to his boon. It was also during those small hours that he had been given the rare chance to observe the witch that had evaded not only him but the Ministry of Magic and the Dark Lord with deft precision.
Severus's eyes traveled to her again, and in doing so, he remembered the sight of her that night. Vibrantly clear, she was wrapped in blanket, sitting stoic at the entrance of the canvas tent as the snow blew around her. She sat there simply watching, unfazed by the elements, as though she were meant for no other purpose. Severus had not known it at the time, but as he studied her frame now, he recognized what he could not put to words then— raw, unfettered focus. It had been easy to mistake for brazen zealousness, and as a result Hermione Granger was branded a swot, covetous of praise. A label, Severus realised with a frown, she had not been able shed through no fault of her own.
The memory shifted again, this time losing some of its sharpness, and Severus saw himself casting the Sword of Gryffindor in the frozen lake. He had only stayed long enough after that to see the locket destroyed and witness the blistering telling-off Hermione had given the Weasley boy once the chaos subsided.
Severus slowed a fraction, feeling a slight prickling crawl over the back of his neck, and tried to puzzle through why that seemed significant enough to remember. Hermione, noticing the increased distance between them, looked over her shoulder at him for a fleeting moment, then back to the path ahead, and in that instance the subtle connection that had been lurking in his periphery came barreling to the forefront of his mind. He had not known it then, but he would not see her again until he lay bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.
Enough! shouted the voice in his head, but it was too late.
Severus's breath hitched in his throat, and he stopped in his tracks. The earlier attack of vertigo, which he thought abated, threatened to swallow him alive, accentuated by the rapid firing of his heartbeat in his chest. He swayed, but by sheer force of will, remained upright. This had been what he had been afraid of, the one thing he did not want to happen, and now here it was, with absolutely nowhere for him to hide. The Silhouette seal on his wrist flared painfully and he jerked out of the dark trance before it could gain leverage.
Hermione had stopped several paces in front of him, and when he looked up, their eyes locked. He expected to see revulsion, or at the very least confusion on her face, but worry had been there instead. She started toward him, and Severus held out a trembling hand for her to stop.
"I need a minute," he breathed, trying to simultaneously cast out both the darkness and the light vying for him.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked immediately, and Adelaide's voice drifted through the madness in his head right behind her, Pretend she's me.
"Professor Snape?" Hermione said, louder this time.
Severus realised that he had not answered her first question. He gave a slight nod, and as his chest constricted further, like a spring wound far too tight, he was forced to bring his hands to his knees for support. Pretend. She's. Me.
"Tell me what's wrong!"
The cadence of Hermione's voice was teetering on the edge of frantic, but it was something familiar, something he could use to bridge the gap between who she was not and what he needed her to be in his moment of weakness. Severus focused on the sound of it, allowing his subconscious to play it on repeat, and felt himself begin to settle. The brand on his wrist gave another searing ache, dragging him closer to the present, and he fought that too, willing it to go still to save him from further scrutiny.
"Lightheaded," he managed at last, desperate for her to buy the con. Though technically not a lie, the excuse, flimsy as it was, could not have been further from the truth. Hermione was still watching him closely through narrowed eyes. In his current state it was hard to determine if it was from serious concern or veiled suspicion, though he strongly suspected the latter.
"Can you walk, or should we try to Apparate?" she asked, just managing to keep the words from coming out in an excruciated rush.
Severus shook his head, feeling like a complete ass for exploiting her sincerity. He forced himself to take a step forward, and said, "No, it's not worth the possibility of Splinching or being seen." Then, more for himself, "I'll be fine."
Hermione waited until he was at her side before she started walking, resuming a pace that matched his own. As they trudged forward against the rain and wind and fast-dimming landscape, Severus could sense she was on the verge of saying something but thankfully lacking the nerve to follow through. Her unspoken words were doubtless related to what had just happened, so he felt compelled to guide any prospective conversation as far away from there as possible and, if he was lucky, extend an olive branch of sorts.
"What are your intentions?" he asked, allowing the words to go where they might. "Your plan moving forward?"
"Scouting for tomorrow, provided the weather cooperates," she answered. "I thought about looking at the hotel for any guided tours of the area but then decided it would probably be best to just go off on our own."
Keep her talking, he thought. In his chest, his heart continued to settle. "Why is that?"
"Protective enchantments," said Hermione simply. "According to Newt Scamander, Muggle-Repelling Charms are used on some habitats for magical creatures. I figure anywhere we'll need to look will be where the Muggles won't."
"Logical," Severus said.
"I hope you're right." Slightly to his relief she smiled a little. "Being here feels like it's a step in the right direction, though I suppose that could also be the lingering adrenaline and a quite a lot of wishful thinking."
The ground beneath their feet gave a steep upward pitch as they drew nearer to the crest of the ridge and what looked like an ancient natural pipe organ looming in front of them. The lowering fog and rain had made it hard to comprehend exactly what Severus had been looking at on the ascent, but now, standing right in front of it, he could clearly see the angular basalt columns were not only massive, but uneven and partially covered with ice.
Hermione slowed, craning her head back to see the top of the precipice. "This looks like a spectacular way to break a neck."
Severus took another step forward and twisted around to look up and properly gauge the height, a hand resting on the natural stone parapet for balance. In his mind he was trying to figure out a way around what he knew he would probably have to do.
"I don't suppose you've got a broom in that bag of yours?" he said.
"I do not," she said. Then, somewhat annoyed, "It honestly never occurred to me that we might need one."
Under other circumstances, her lack of forethought might have been funny. Severus stepped back again and brushed the dampness and grit from his hand. "How far away do you think we are from the village?"
"We should be able to see it soon after we make it to the top of this," said Hermione. She retrieved the sachet of paperwork from the Portkey office and rummaged through for a moment before producing a map of the region. "See, we're here. Vik," she said tracing her fingers along some invisible route Severus was sure she had previously worked out, "is here in the valley."
"Still out of sight then."
"As far as I can tell there no other settlements between here and there, and I highly doubt anyone else with sense is out in this rain besides us." Hermione studied the map again. After a stretched pause she slid it into her pocket and said, "We could go back and try to walk the coastline before the tides come in, but it'll be dark long before we make it back to the beach."
Severus did not say anything for a moment as he weighed the options. Finally, seeing no other way around it, he simply offered her his hand.
"You said we shouldn't Apparate." Hermione said, critically, looking first to his upturned palm and then to him directly.
"We're not Apparating."
It had been over a year since Severus had done what he was now considering doing. It was difficult enough to manage himself, and the chore of having an extra body to attend to only added to the daunting prospect of not making a fool of himself or worse. His earlier episode only added to the apprehension and there was no room for error.
Hermione seemed to have sensed this because she frowned. "What are you thinking?"
"It's probably for the best to show you rather than explain." Severus pointed to her hand at her side. "May I?"
She hesitated only for a second, then slid her hand in his. Severus locked his fingers securely around hers and said, "No matter what instinct tells you, be still."
Severus closed his eyes, allowing the muscle memory to take over, and as he did so the strange feeling of nothingness enveloped them both. The weightlessness started in the soles of his feet and stole upward. Twisting tendrils of thick mist tinted the color of their shoes were emanating from where their feet should have been, and slowly up they went with the wind.
At his side Hermione tensed, and Severus felt a sudden throbbing strain on the effort he was putting behind the spell as her body fought against the unnatural act of defying gravity. "Very still, Miss Granger," he warned.
The tension building against the spell work lessened before vanishing entirely, and higher and higher they rose, speed increasing in tandem with the altitude. At last, Severus opened his eyes, fully in control of both of himself and Hermione, more alive than he had felt in a very long time. They were floating in the open air some fifteen feet above the crest of the ridge looking outward toward the sea, shrouded in the fine sheets of rain that cascaded from above.
Severus looked to his side, fully expecting Hermione to have her eyes pinched shut, but instead she was staring out at the churning waves with a mystified expression, stray strands of her hair slickened to her cheek from the drizzle. She was trying to make sense of how he had managed such a feat, and for a permissive moment, Severus allowed the indulgence of ethereality before gliding them safely to solid ground.
"Was that what I think it was?" She sounded breathless as she spun around to face him.
"If by 'that' you mean unassisted flight, then yes."
Hermione's gait faltered momentarily, as if the casual admission of something so spectacular had been nothing more than rock she had not seen and absently stumbled over. She looked down at her feet as if to make sure they were really there, then back to him with an opened-mouth expression of dismay. "I…I—how?"
"Physics and magic are two sides of the same token," Severus said from beneath his hood, choosing the words to be purposefully vague. This was something that was not easily learned or to be handled cavalierly. "Magic dictates that I can bend the laws of physics enough to transform a tarnished collection of cutlery into a functioning chess set and have it play a match against itself. Humans, though vastly physiologically different from a butter knife, can be manipulated just the same with the right frame of mind."
"So, it's like partial transfiguration?" asked Hermione.
Severus shook his head. "It's nothing like transfiguration, but rather a state of being."
"A state of being," Hermione repeated, as if hearing the words in an unknown tongue. "Are you talking about elemental magic, like changing your physical self, similar to that of an Animagi?"
"Your intuition is true, to a point," said Severus, "but there are no incantations or potions involved, just the ability and the brute willpower to use that ability to alter yourself and the immediate space around you long enough to go airborne. It's not something I'm particularly fond of doing for any extended period of time."
Neither of them said anything for several steps, and it was not until they had crossed over another slight incline in the terrain that she asked the question he knew was coming:
"How did you learn to do it?"
The sound of their feet crunching over the cold landscape was all that could be heard as Severus contemplated whether to tell the truth or lie. He was almost certain she already knew the answer, could almost decipher that conclusion from the careful way she had asked the question. She had been at the Battle of the Seven Potters acting as a decoy herself, and if the splinter of memory he had to reach for served him correctly, she had likely been pursued at some point by the Dark Lord riding the wind like a wraith.
The first thing that rose to Severus' lips was 'Don't ask questions you don't really want the answers to' because he could picture it now, the revolted look on her face as he explained that his old master had been a ruthless tutor. What he said instead was, "From a book."
The frequency with which he was having to lie since they arrived harried him, but sometimes a lie was necessary—and in this case, it was one of those times. That was not to say that there had not been a fleeting moment he felt the near-involuntary need to unburden himself to her as he would to Adelaide Harlow, because it was there, and Severus quickly put the notion back in its place. She did not need to know that it had taken breaking five of his ribs and a partially collapsed lung before he caught a random streak of luck with magic thoroughly beyond his talents and truly understood what the Dark Lord had meant when he said, 'Fear not,' and let each of them fall.
It was the unabashed desire to survive being dropped the equivalent of a quidditch pitch and refusing to succumb to the inevitable fear of smacking against the ground. The absence of fear opened a wide range of doors, everything lurking behind them reckless and unnatural, and Severus had always suspected it was his innate ability to compartmentalize his mind and his emotions that saved him all those years ago. The same thing could not be said about those that did not fare as well—six among the Dark Lord's ranks had fallen to their deaths that night before the psychopath finally conceded the advantage lie in numbers rather than flying without a broomstick.
From the corner of his eye Severus could see her watching him sidelong. Self-conscious or ashamed—he could not have said which in that instant—he shoved his hands in his pockets, feigning the cold. The truth was, despite the dense layers of clothing, the faded Dark Mark that would forever serve as a reminder of what he had been and who he associated with felt like an albatross.
"Can I ask you something, professor?"
Severus nodded, as though half-listening, his expression entirely placid despite being sunk in his thoughts. Overhead, iridescent flakes of snow were starting to mingle with the fine miasma of rain and fog.
Hermione sighed, seemingly daunted by her unspoken words, and Severus turned to stare at her from under his hood, dreading them now himself.
"Why did you agree to do any of this?" she asked as though inquiring about something as simple as what he had had for lunch.
Severus blinked, confused. "You mean coming here?"
"Not just that, but the mentorship in general," Hermione said. "It's not that I'm not grateful—because I am—but I've always wondered why."
Severus had asked himself this same question numerous times before, and often when he had been poring over pages of notes for hours on end or attending to the mindless task of cruising Alihotsy leaves, trying all the while to untangle where they had gone wrong. He had finally been able to rid himself of Hogwarts and all of the responsibility he had come to loathe only to find a nagging void waiting to be filled in its absence. Hermione Granger and her onerous task had been a convenient but needed distraction, dropped neatly into his lap with the right mix of challenge and familiarity to be an appealing substitute.
"Minerva asked for my assistance, and I felt it would be prudent to oversee myself, rather than playing some ridiculous game of whisper down the lane," he said at last, neatly dodging the question. It somehow seemed improper to say that he needed her and her N.E.W.T. as much as she needed him.
"I thought she might have asked Professor Slughorn," Hermione said. Her tone had been purely conversational, but it provoked an unexpected stab of jealousy that caught him off-guard.
Severus gave her a sour look. "Would you have preferred that?"
"God, no. Professor Slughorn is knowledgeable and can be helpful when it suits him, but it's impossible to discuss anything in the present with the weight of being exploited in the future hanging over your head. Besides," she said, but distantly; the valley and the small seaside town of Vik nestled neatly in its center had finally come into view, "I'm not entirely certain he would have thought me worth all of this effort."
"Time will tell," he said.
Hermione looked at him. "Time will tell what?"
"If you're worth all of this effort," he said, with a faint teasing edge, and set off walking again—thankfully downhill this time—before she could reply.
Observed from the high cliffs above, Vik looked picturesque in the fading light with its steepled church house on an adjacent hill that overlooked the neat rows of homes and storefronts. Snow-covered and quiet, it was eerily docile against the harsh climate and churning sea. Walking through the village had an entirely different effect, Severus reflected. Vik was nothing more than an ordinary Muggle town and sparsely populated. The streets were largely deserted except for the handful of vehicles leaving faint tracks in the snow that blanketed the roads. It was the perfect place to remain an anonymous tourist, or rather a geologist on sabbatical, he reminded himself as they walked silently through snatches of yellowed light from the streetlamps.
Hotel Víðsýni was exactly where she had said it would be, situated a few hundred feet from the shoreline. It was dwarfed by the endless expanse of water just beyond the black sand beach and was somehow both austere and extravagant in its design compared to the rest of the village. Floor to ceiling windows covered the front of the façade, allowing those outside to have an unobstructed view into the lobby, and subsequently to the ocean on the other side. Four single level wings branched out beyond the entrance, housing the available rooms. It had to have been the most recent building erected in a while.
"Everything is registered in my name," Hermione said needlessly as they approached the entrance. He took it for what it was meant to be: an invitation to remain silent, to let her handle her own business.
Severus held the door open for her, feeling the blast of heat coming from the lobby that made him shiver. Despite the protective charms that imbued his coat, the cold and stiffness were beginning to settle deep in his joints, made noticeable by the drastic difference in temperature.
A thin blonde woman was sitting behind the reception desk, absorbed in the task of filing her nails. When she noticed the pair she looked up and said something in her native Icelandic that Severus did not understand beyond the name Margrét which was printed on the plastic name tag fastened to her lapel.
"We have a reservation," Hermione said. "Under the name Granger."
"Of course!" the woman responded in nearly perfect English. The receptionist tapped at the computer keyboard hidden behind the counter. "I have a standard adjoining suite for a Ms. Hermione Granger with an arrival of today and a departure next Monday. It looks as though you were able to pre-pay for the arrangement, yes?"
"Yes, but there were supposed to be two separate rooms," Hermione said, almost accusingly. "When I phoned last week, I was told this wouldn't be an issue."
"Yes, that is correct. The sleeping quarters are separated, merely joined by a common living area and private entrance."
Hermione looked back at Severus, as if to measure the disapproval in his expression. "Maybe something else available—"
"I can assure you the suite is perfectly designed for business travel," the receptionist cut in. "Each room is equipped with its own water closet. Very private for individuals."
Receptionist Margrét and Hermione were now looking at him intently, the entire predetermined plan hanging in the balance because of him. The Silhouette frame tucked away in his bag seemed like contraband he would now have to either do without or work very hard to conceal. Adelaide's original proposal of leaving her behind was suddenly much more appealing; secrets had a proclivity for making themselves known, especially those involving a surreptitious confidant almost half his age. Perhaps this was for the best, a way to wean himself from the absurd attachment he had formed…
"If you are comfortable with the arrangement, Miss Granger, I don't have an issue," he lied.
"Are you certain?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes flicking to the receptionist.
"We lived in the same building for the better part of six years," said Severus neutrally, folding his arms in front of him—Adelaide would have been proud. "I should think an additional week will be manageable."
"Excellent!" said the receptionist, beaming. She produced two identical silver keys and slid them across the desk. "You'll be in room 333—third hall, room number thirty-three. Your stay comes with two complementary tokens for our in-house restaurant dinner service to be used at your leisure as well as daily access to complimentary breakfast options served in the Katla Lounge."
Hermione took both keys. She shoved one in her pocket and slid her index finger through the ring holding the other.
"The mandatory emergency briefing will be in the morning at half past nine," the receptionist went on, as if by rote. "The pamphlet in your room provides the same information in the meantime so be sure to read it fully."
Severus frowned. "Emergency briefing?"
"In the event of any seismic activity and subsequent eruption of the volcano, everyone is to make their way to the church on the hill. There hasn't been an eruption since 1918, but better safe than sorry, right?" laughed the Muggle woman, pointing in the direction they were meant to go. "Welcome to Iceland!"
The wings of the hotel were just as sparse as the rest of Vik, complete with stark tones of grey from the pristine carpeting to the plastered walls. They passed the occasional window that went all the way up to the ceiling only for Severus to see their reflections rather than the outside world. They both looked windswept and tired, in desperate need of a strong cup of tea and a decent night's sleep.
"I really am sorry," Hermione said again, once they reached the suite they were to share. "I thought there would be separate spaces not just separate rooms. That's the impression given my last phone conversation."
Severus stopped and turned to look at her directly, thankful to be out of earshot of the lobby. "I can find something else if you'd rather I do that. You need only say it."
"No. No, it's not that at all," Hermione stammered. "She pushed a hand through her damp hair. "I know you prefer to keep to yourself, and I know it was a lot to ask for you to drop everything for a week to come here only to have to give up more privacy than you intended."
"Do you honestly believe I would be here, slogging around the Arctic Circle, if I didn't want to be?" Severus said, surprised at not only how easily the words left him, but how much truth there was to them.
Hermione looked down at the key still wrapped securely around her finger with the silver ring and smiled. "You know, we're technically just south of the Arctic Circle…"
Severus sighed, caught somewhere between relief and feeling annoyed. "Christ Almighty, open the door before I change my mind."
She did as she was told, though the door must have been heavy because she had to lean into it before it swung inward to reveal the darkened interior of the room. Hermione fumbled for the light switch panel beside the door, and a lamp on the entryway table flared to life. The shared space carried the same grey hues as the hotel's halls. A comfortable looking sofa and matching white armchairs stood in the center of the room, surrounding a sturdy coffee table with a smoothed stone top. On opposite ends of the room were two closed doors, doubtless the bedrooms. The thick ash-coloured curtains were pulled back along the rear wall to reveal another set of tall windows and matching sliding glass door that led straight out to the beach. In front of one of the windows, nestled in the corner, was a high circular table with two cushioned stools.
It was a workable space for what they needed, complete with the means to come and go as they pleased without having to navigate the hotel or any other occupants, but something about the room caused tendrils of unease to steal through his thoughts. The layout and dark tones made the suite impersonal, almost sterile, much like his former room at St. Mungo's…
"Left or right?" Hermione asked him.
He heard her, but meaning failed to register. Severus blinked, looking away from the beach and the waves beyond the sand—it was snowing steadily now. "What?"
"Do you have a room preference?"
"No," Severus said flatly.
"I'll take this one, then." Hermione gestured over her shoulder. "We'll each get settled and meet back here in an hour or so to go through the Ministry itinerary?"
Severus gave her a nod and watched as she slipped through the door, closing it behind her. He waited, until he heard the faint sound of the shower running in Hermione's room, then turned for his own room, desperately thinking of Adelaide Harlow as he went.
The spiral on his wrist began to pulse painfully, and when he reached for the light switch, a jolt of static shock sent the needling sensation all the way up his arm. He tossed the holdall on the bed and locked the door for good measure. Within the zippered outer pocket of his bag, he could hear the thin whine coming from his frame and then Adelaide's voice, as clear and crisp as a bell toll:
"Severus? I can't see you."
"Shhhh!" he hissed at the pocket concealing his Silhouette.
Adelaide went silent for a moment, then whispered, "Are you well? Earlier I could feel—"
"It's fine—I'm fine," Severus said in a clipped, quiet tone. Bringing up the apparent panic attack only served to pull back the remembered spectacle of nearly falling apart and he did not need that right now on top of everything else. He cleared his throat and knelt beside the holdall and got right to the point. "We're here, but there's been an unforeseen issue. Miss Granger and I are in adjoining rooms."
Severus waited, listening for a reply, but could hear nothing but the sound of his own breathing. "Adelaide?"
"I'm here."
"Did you hear what I said?"
"I did."
Severus glared at the holdall, resisting the urge to pluck the frame from the pocket to look at her directly. "And?"
"I don't have any pearls to clutch if that's what you're waiting on," Adelaide deadpanned. "Don't add any undue stress to this situation by thinking you have to manage me as well. Check in when you need to, and if not I'll see you next week."
"You can do this," Adelaide went on after he said nothing. "My goodness, Severus, you've already proven that you can. I don't know what that was earlier, but I felt the significance of it to know it was serious. You handled that. All on your own."
Severus sat down on the bed beside the holdall and put his head in his hands. The act had a borrowed calmness to it, and for a brief moment he let himself acknowledge exactly how right she was. Well, mostly right. It had not felt like it while it was happening in real time, but now, as he allowed himself to really give his latest episode proper thought, the enormity of what he had accomplished finally sank in. It was the first time in a long time he could recall being able to stop a panic attack dead in its tracks before it swallowed him alive.
But it's never just you, is it? said the spiteful, doubting voice in his head. You only traded one totem for another, fucking coward.
"I'm remembering things," he said. It was an abrupt shift, but he could not hold it in any longer. "It all used to run together in a blur, events and the people in them, but it's all starting to organize and clear."
"Why do you think that is?" Adelaide whispered.
He stared at his boots, searching for something constructive to say. What came out was, "How should I know?"
The truth, however, was that the question and the presumed answer paralyzed him for a horrifying second. Severus sank his teeth into his lower lip and tried very, very hard to recall some obscure medical reason Augusta Barnes might have mentioned that would neatly explain the new, episodic bouts of anamnesis, knowing full well that the likely curly-haired cause for this change was just beyond two closed doors.
Severus sat up and gave the bag a long beseeching look, thankful Adelaide's view was obstructed. A hint of yellow canvas sticking from another pocket caught his attention and he pulled the old dogeared book Hermione had gifted him from the holdall to turn it over in his hands.
"I don't know when I'll be able to talk to you again," he said tightly, feeling the pressure behind the words. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Severus," Adelaide said. "This is how it was always meant to go—it's even better that you've got someone to tend to that's depending on you."
God, how easy it was to believe in every word she said. Severus studied the preposterous illustration on the cover of the book, and felt an unexpected smile pull at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think Hermione Granger is going to require much tending."
Author's Notes: Hi. It's me again. I hope this update finds each of you well. It's been a long time coming, and I have no other excuse beyond real life being an absolutely relentless nightmare of contact tracing and quarantines since school resumed in person in the fall. I can't make any promises on the next update, but the next chapter is in the works, so please be sure to watch for notifications in the future if you want to follow along. As always, whether you've been following along since day one, or just stumbled upon my nonsense just now, your reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated.