An update. Wow. I think I might not be able to update again for sometime though; I'll try.
It's getting difficult to keep track of my chapter numbers, so I'm going to re-title them, for your benefit as well as my own. Also, because I know that it's difficult to remember what happened after such a long stretch of time of not reading this, I'll post summaries as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, and the main flow of the idea for this chapter I took from the movie The Interpreter.
Summary of Previous Events:
At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia and calling herself Jane. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva.
Recently, Jane had a reaction to the time-turner, and misjudging her questions, Severus left her, thinking that she didn't need him anymore. He is bothered by thoughts of her, and what to do. Now, she comes to try and make amends, as well as find out what happened in the hospital that day.
Tilting his head back, his eyes shut, Severus sighed. After a moment, he opened them again, the brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the off-white ceiling of the library he was in. He stared blankly at the carvings in the corners before letting his head fall back in place on his spine, pushing himself off of the chair he had been sitting rather tensely on. The book fell of his lap, he didn't care. Rubbing the spot between his eyes with the hand that wasn't supporting him on the arm of the chair, he shook his head. When had life really become so utterly boring?
His inner voice sighed exasperatedly, for the umpteenth time that day, and it was only late morning. He had been trying to run away from that little voice of reason the past hour as it became even more insistent, arguing and snapping until he found himself speaking aloud to himself rather than reading the text he had found interest in two days ago. Nothing seemed to be able to hold his attention for longer than a mere second now…except for one matter.
One he wished he never had to think of again.
Hermione, Jane, whatever. That annoying chit must have been sent to pester him until the end of his days. And he had thought she seemed like his shadow then, with her questions of this topic or that, so and so essay, or, he thought spitefully, stealing from his stores. The idea of her wouldn't even give him peace for a moment. First the amnesia, now the guilt that ate away for hours on end…
He growled, stepping out of the room with a renewed vigor.
'Now what?' He complained to his conscience, which was now dragging him mercilessly to the little upstairs room he had so carefully been avoiding. Feeling rather grumpy, he didn't even bother to fight the small pulls that were gradually guiding him to reach for the doorknob, turn it, push the door, step inside…He sighed. He was going insane. Definitely. Since when did his conscience lead his actions instead of his own thoughts? He wasn't saying that his own thoughts landed him in a better place, or that his conscience didn't seem to spout common sense as much as Granger had spouted questions and textbooks, but he couldn't see the sense in this at all.
He stared down his nose at the chest sitting in front of him, wondering if he should open it or not. How would it help, anyway? He should just turn on his heel and slam the door behind him in that dramatic fashion that he had always done when he was still a professor with billowing robes and intimidating glares. Where had it all gone? He mused over that silently, still staring at the wooden box before him.
Guessing that he had nothing better to do with his time, he knelt down, running his fingers over the carved chest in a caress before letting his fingers trace the small latch. With a creak, he pushed it open, the lid falling on the wall behind it with a light thump.
On top was the fractured time-turner, its shape protruding from the velvet bag he had brushed it in. He reached his hand inside, his fingertips brushing the fabric as he hesitantly reached for the drawstring. Would it be a good idea to open it? It wasn't just because of the now obvious fact that it held unstable magic, but also the thought of memories. Everything seemed to remind him of her, but not so much so as this small chunk of glass and metal, bringing back the recent events to mind.
He pulled open the small bag, dropping the instrument in his open palm. Turning it over, he watched as the sunlight from the window danced on the sharper shards. Admiring the little rainbows they threw on the walls for a bit, he placed it back inside before shutting the trunk and standing up again. Staring a moment longer at the wood, he turned out the door.
Walking out of the room, his step was considerably lighter. For what reason, he did not know, but maybe seeing the time-turner again had been just the thing that he needed to do. Continuing downstairs, he rummaged through the cupboards to grab something to eat. Finding a box of truffles just beyond reach, he leaned in, grabbing a few before knocking the top back on and closing the refrigerator. Popping one in his mouth, he opened the front door, about to savor the chocolate when he came face to face with the person he had just banished from his thoughts.
Hermione Granger.
Any ideas of enjoying the outdoors were now squashed, non-existent. It wasn't necessarily that he detested her presence, but he definitely hated the guilt she brought to him with a deep, unequaled passion. Taking a deep breath, she closed his eyes breifly, exhaling and opening his eyes again to see her slowly uncurling the fist that had been inches away from a door moments ago. He studied her for a bit, watching her drop her arm back to her side and her gaze to the ground as well.
Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"
Her head immediately snapped up, and he caught a guilty glance in her eyes before it disappeared into a look more hopeful. She looked back down, fiddling with her fingers and the end of the light dress jacket, which she wore over a tank top and skirt. He took notice of the somewhat warmer weather outside, and at her small nod of affirmation, he cast off his jacket and joined her outside.
Even if it was still spring, summer was already making its appearance. The new leaves were beginning to uncurl, deepening their green and growing broader in size. Primroses and lilies already blossomed from their buds, and even the constant sunlight that now filtered between the branches to kiss their heads and shoulders felt warmer, lingering in the air. The scent of grass had gradually replaced the heavier one of rain, so subtly that even Severus's sensitive nose almost missed it. He breathed deeply, enjoying the air, forgetting about the person at his side.
"It's a beautiful day for a walk, isn't it?"
He glanced at her soft interruption. She didn't seem to mean much by the question, and seemed to be studying the sky. When she returned his glance, he only made an indifferent sound in the back of his throat, then looked away. It was silent again.
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you lately. You know, with class work to be made up, homework, hospital visits…" she trailed off, sounding uncertain. Severus kept his face impassive, showing no signs of emotion whatsoever. When it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she gave an exasperated sigh.
"Why the silent treatment, Severus? How come you don't talk to me anymore? It doesn't even seem like you care!"
After that last comment, she snapped her mouth shut, as though she thought it might actually be true. He continued to look forward, but replied flatly, "I'm not in the mood to talk."
Severus could almost feel her roll her eyes. "Like I'm going to believe that! You were the one who invited me! And never once on a walk did you not find something to say."
"I didn't ask you to come here. I only wanted some fresh air."
Her mouth dropped in disbelief at the selfish reply, and she stopped in her tracks. "What is wrong with you?" She hurried to keep up with his increasing strides.
"I could ask the same. In the…the hospital," he still had trouble talking about the incident, "you treated me the same way! Now, you suddenly care. That's not wrong to you?" He watched her pointedly from the corner of his eye. If possible, her jaw dropped even farther, and she snapped it up again, brushing a strand of hair that had come out of her knot of hair from her face in growing frustration.
"I wasn't even fully awake! Haven't you—"
"I'm not fully rested," he retorted. "What difference does that make?"
"And why would that be? What, did you stay up reading the whole night? In all the time I've known you, you've never once lost sleep because you lost yourself in a book. Did you suddenly find a book in your library that you never read before and found too much interest to even rest?"
He was silent, resolutely increasing the speed of his strides even more, even if it was just to make her save her breath to keep up with him. He knew that she knew that that much was true, and there wasn't anything else anyone would be doing at that ungodly hour in the muggle world, besides worrying himself to sleeplessness. Which was precisely what she wanted to hear. Not letting go of the argument that easily, he was about to reply, but she had already cut in.
"Unless you have been waking up extremely early to take care of some rare, exotic plant that needs precise measurements of water at dawn, I don't believe you."
He really should have shut his mouth then, but he wasn't about to stop there neither. "For your information, you're supposed to water your plants early when the weather gets hot."
"I don't remember you complaining about lack of sleep if it was this warm before."
Completely annoyed at her insistent arguments, he whirled around to face her, stopping, he realized, right next to the small clearing they had enjoyed their picnic. "What are you really here for? I don't have all day."
She bit her tongue, probably to keep from saying something about how he hadn't been doing anything but eating truffles and longing for a walk outside.
"Well?" he prompted, his eyebrow raised in impatience.
"I just wanted to apologize, okay? I'm sorry for acting so indifferent to you, and not coming to talk to you! Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"
He turned back to the house, gathering from her apology that she had given up the argument. Still, he didn't feel like that was what he wanted at all. "I asked you what you were here to say, not to recite what you thought I wanted to hear."
"I'm sorry!"
"I don't need your apology," he snarled. And with that, he pulled open the door, stepping inside and closing it before she could utter another word.
Once he had shut the door, he couldn't help but groan. What had he done now? Last time, his stupid assumptions hadn't only caused numerous sleepless nights, but also a frustrating loss of attention span. And he thought he had just gotten over it. Apparently not, especially with her here. Suppressing the urge to do something completely insane, he stepped into the kitchen, putting some water to boil in a kettle before sitting down to stare the copper pot into oblivion.
Seconds ticked, minutes ticked. It didn't seem to make him feel any better. In fact, he only felt more misery being piled on top of his head.
It seemed to take too long for the kettle to whistle, and he sighed in relief when it finally did. Taking a mug from the cupboard, he picked up the kettle and tipped it over the cup, watching the steam rise and cloud his face. Rummaging in the pantry for the box of lemon tea he kept for the rare yet seemingly more frequent moments of depression that would take over him now and again, he noted that he was running out of the precious ingredient before placing the small packet in the water. Almost immediately, color spread from the package to the water around it, turning it into a beautiful amber. Adding a spoonful of sugar, he took a slice of lemon left in the refrigerator, squeezing a small amount to add to his tea. Sitting back down, he stared at the cup before removing the remains of the packet and taking a small scalding sip, placing it back on the table with an uncontrolled thump.
Severus placed his chin in his left palm, contemplating the steaming tea in front of him. It was clear, bright in color, and slightly shadowed by a few loose dregs from the packet. He thought it was rather similar to a Gryffindor, bright, only slightly shadowed by guilt—and definitely easy to see through. He was reaching for the cup to take another sip when he became aware of a certain brunette standing at the doorway. As stubborn a Gryfffindor as a stain on a teacup.
"You should have locked the door." Her voice was scolding, yet still gentle. He didn't reply.
He felt the stare from her eyes on the back of his head before she sat down across from him, playing with the string from the tea packet lying on the table. She was content to let the quiet continue between them, as comfortable at his table as if she were sitting at her own.
"May I?" Jane gestured at his teacup, having seen the box of tea still on the counter, the door still swung open above it. He shrugged, sipping at his own tea. She pushed herself up, taking the teabag with her before throwing it away and reaching for a cup. Shutting the cabinet, she added the extra water in the kettle to her own cup before taking out the second to last packet of tea. "You're almost out."
He scowled. It wasn't like he hadn't observed it himself just a moment ago. Finishing her touches on her beverage, she resumed her seat, blowing on the dark liquid before sipping it again. It stayed like that for a long while, the only sounds being that of a quiet sip, or the soft thunk of the cup against the table, until any remaining tea in their cups had become only lukewarm.
"It was a long time ago, you know, when I became a professor." He felt her eyes staring at his head again, but he continued anyway. "I never wanted to become one. It seemed so boring to me."
He paused a moment, wondering how much to say, but decided to stick to any facts that wouldn't bring up the mention of magic.
"I grew up there, at the boarding school. People would make fun of me…I just ignored them. When I finally graduated, I thought that was the last time I would see that place. I just kind of wondered what to do with my life, never really doing anything but doing something at the same time. I don't know. It seemed sensible to just ignore everyone.
"Until it happened. You know, the kind of things that make you realize you haven't been living at all. The kind of things that show you how stupid you were, how blind you were to reality just when you thought you had learned it all. I just graduated…what was I supposed to know?
"It wasn't like the had classes that told you how to make sure that you locked your doors, your windows, to scrutinize anyone you talked to. It always seemed like common sense. What is common sense? If it's so common, how come no one uses it?
"The little bit of pride that I had taken in getting good grades, being smart…it all went away. What did those things matter when you'd killed somebody? It seemed like everyone did it, everywhere…but to become one of them?"
He looked up at her. She was staring at the dregs in her cup, but listening attentively. He didn't even know he had begun talking again.
"I ran the next day, trying to keep away the thoughts that he was going to find me…he was…
"I couldn't find anywhere safe. I mean, where I felt safe. I appeared at the gates of the school again. They were just as surprised as I was, the professors. I told the headmaster that I wanted a job, that I wanted to forget that I had ever killed someone. It was well worth it to face those other memories.
"Or so I thought. I spent years tormenting students, remembering how this reminded me of that, how that brought back memories of this. I don't know…I just couldn't handle it, I guess."
He stopped, feeling that he didn't need to say anymore. She probably didn't understand any of it, why would he care? Tilting his head back to drink the last of his tea, he pushed himself away from the table to drop the cup in the sink. Turning around, he left, stepping up the stairs and into the library. Pulling all the drapes shut, he threw himself into a chair. For once, the tea hadn't helped at all. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was him.
Downstairs, he heard the sounds of the water running, the clink of cups. A few doors shut, and then the sound of boots on the wooden floor reached his ears. He still sat there, not bothering to move.
He heard the thump of something hard, he couldn't classify it. Almost immediately, the soft sounds of the piano downstairs reached him. It was nothing really, just a few scales and chords. He listened to the keys, recalling the names of the major scales, fighting to remember the minor scales. It wasn't until he had finally remembered that the sounds were that of a G minor arpeggio that he realized that the front door had shut, the last echoes of her good bye ringing faintly throughout the house.
I hope that this chapter had enough to make you think, but that it wasn't too confusing. Sorry for any grammatical errors...I'm too lazy to proof read this well. I'm looking forward to some critique.
Did I spell arpeggios wrong?