AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
It had been four days since the Memorial Ball, and Hermione has said little to Severus. They had only managed to have a few short conversations, most of them surrounding the stress of grading final assignments. Whatever she had wanted to say wasn't important enough to repeat. That was just as well. He didn't want to hear how her conversation with Weasley and gone, or how much she was growing to miss him even if their separation was only a few days. It was terrible enough that he'd seen them laughing together at the ball, sharing in some joke he no doubt would never have understood. He was an old, greasy git whose sense of humor had dried up long ago. She deserved someone young, funny, and someone who could manage to smile during those insipid balls.
in short, she deserved better than an old, greasy git.
He groaned as he slumped in his chair, a glass of Mr. Ogden's finest on the lamp stand beside him. Why did being called an "old, greasy git" matter so much to him? Molly was hardly the first to say those words to his face. She wasn't the rudest person who'd said them either. No, she was only speaking the truth. He knew that, as did she. Why did the truth suddenly hurt?
Because he wanted Hermione to see him as someone worthy of her love, despite his age and sour temperament.
Who was he fooling? Hermione deserved better than him, a fact everyone knew. All Molly did was confirm that. Sure, she'd been a witch about it. Then again, she was a magical woman, so being a witch was in her nature. Still, there were good witches and bad witches. Molly fell somewhere in between, an obnoxious witch.
Just as he was picking up his glass, he heard a scratching at the door. He took a sip, hoping if he ignored it the sound would go away.
Instead, the scratching became louder. When that failed to catch Severus' attention, the blasted thing on the other side began meowing. With a sigh, Severus rose and opened the door, if only to keep that half-kneazle from destroying it.
"One treat," he replied in a low voice. "No more than one."
The orange half kneazle strolled through the door, knowing full well he would receive two slices of turkey. Severus rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchenette. He'd known it was a mistake to feed Crookshanks the first time he'd given him meat, but he wouldn't stop yowling. The half-kneazle could also sense when someone found him cuter than they ought. Damn thing knew how to purr and rub up against Severus' leg when he was in a particularly bad mood. Then there were the nights he would keep him warm during his grading, something he did not always do for Hermione. The fact that they both despised the Weasleys only made their bond stronger.
He hated how much affection he had for Crookshanks.
"I take it the weather was not to your satisfaction." Severus pulled out a turkey slice.
Crookshanks raised his paw in confirmation.
"It must be quite rainy for you to want nothing to do with the outdoors." Granted Severus couldn't hear the rain or the thunder in the dungeons, but he'd heard the rumors around that night. According to the weather spells, the safest place in the castle would be in the lower levels, though why that was the case Severus couldn't tell.
Crookshanks let out a soft meow, interrupting his musings.
"You are lucky I am so accommodating." Severus put the turkey in front of Crookshanks. "Most other professors would allow you to starve. It is against my better judgement that I feed you. They do recommend never feeding strays after all."
He let out a purr as he began to eat.
"Then again, you did chase Scabbers, and at times you were cruel towards the dog," Severus smirked. "I suppose I cannot find too much hatred in my heart for you given those facts."
Crookshanks gave him a look of pure, smug pleasure. Severus returned the expression.
In silence, he returned to his chair and took a sip of his Firewhiskey. An hour ago he'd fully intend to drink until he could no longer see straight. Now, the presence of the only other creature who was just as big a git as he was gave him an odd source of comfort. At the very least he should remain somewhat sober when he returned Crookshanks to his owner. It wouldn't do for him to slur his words around Hermione, lest he prove everyone correct who said he had no coping skills other than drinking.
"Mrow!"
"Done already?" Severus stood. "That was quick."
Crookshanks meowed at him again. Then, he had the nerve to glare at him, as if waiting for two minutes for another treat was an enormous inconvenience. With a huff, Severus threw another piece of turkey his way.
"The second you finish this turkey is the second you return to your owner."
Crookshanks gave him a look as if to ask if he was serious.
"I mean it," Severus answered. "I have little time for half kneazles in my dungeons."
Crookshanks huffed before he resumed eating.
Severus rapped his fingers on the table, at a loss for his next move. Returning Crookshanks would involve speaking to Hermione. Their conversation could prove longer than he had patience for. Then again, that assumed she wanted to talk to him.
How upset with him was she? Did she suspect he was avoiding her, or did she think little of how rarely they'd seen each other over the course of the last few days? At any point did she miss him, or was she happy to be rid of him? He hoped for one answer, but strongly suspected it was the other.
"Mrow!"
Severus turned to Crookshanks. "No."
"Mrow!" Crookshanks intoned louder.
"I mean it, I have little time for you tonight." He wasn't about to tell the half kneazle that he was intruding on his time with firewhiskey. For all Severus knew, Crookshanks found a way to let Hermione know when Severus was about to engage in idiotic behavior. The last thing he needed was a lecture on alcohol abuse.
Crookshanks meowed in protest as Severus picked him up. "I like carrying you up the stairs as much as you enjoy being carried up the stairs. You'd think Hogwarts would install an elevator at some point. It would make things easier on everyone."
Crookshanks glared at him, but didn't move. A few years ago, he'd tried jumping out of Severus' arms and darting under his bed. The only thing he'd gotten for his trouble was Severus contacting Hermione, and having her get him out from under the bed. Severus always tried to be gentle when coaxing him out. When frustrated, Hermione was in no mood for such niceties, something both Crookshanks and Severus learned that night.
After trudging up more stairs than Severus felt was reasonable, and counting every orange hair that clung to his frock coat, he reached Hermione's door. Much to his surprise, it was cracked open. Had she not noticed when Crookshanks had escaped that it was open?
"Mum is right about some things."
Severus' muscles tightened as his body temperature rose. What the hell was Weasley doing here?
"I need to go after what I want," he continued. "I need to conquer my fears and just, you know, take charge of things."
"Yes, that's right, you do, You could accomplish anything if you set your mind to it," Hermione replied.
"I could give you the same advice too."
Severus set Crookshanks down. The half-kneazle did not enter the room, but stood outside, glaring down Weasley.
"I mean, we've both been dancing around our feelings," Ron continued. "It's time to act on them."
"I suppose you have a point there," she exhaled.
"I mean it. We both deserve love."
"And you will both receive love!"
Severus flung open the door. The pair stared at him, their eyes wide. Of course they were in an embrace! Hermione was always embracing him.
"Tell me, when will you send me a wedding invitation, or will mine become lost in the mail?" Severus demanded.
"Severus," Hermione began as she untangled herself from Ron. "This...this isn't what you think it is."
A bolt of lightning crackled through the window.
"Are you saying I am unable to understand what I see before me?" Severus asked. "Am I incapable of basic comprehension?"
"No, I mean, yes you can comprehend things, and you aren't seeing things, but I'm telling you, this isn't what you think it is," she sputtered.
"Hermione," he began in the most controlled voice he could. "I hope you two are very happy together."
"Look Snape, it isn't like that," Ron argued. "Whatever you think of us, it's wrong."
"I can see everything just fine, Mr. Weasley," the last two words were venom from his mouth. "You can make Hermione happy, while I am an old, greasy git."
"Snape, that isn't the case at all," Ron asked. "Okay, it is a case that you're an 'old, greasy git,' but that doesn't mean I'm doing with 'Mione what you think I am."
"Please Severus," Hermione folded her hands. "You have to listen to me. This isn't what you think it is."
Severus couldn't look at them anymore. Instead, he tore down the hallway. Behind him, Hermione shouted his name. He paid her no heed. What he needed was air. Even if the thunder boomed throughout the castle, he needed outside air.
Severus ran outside and tore through the grounds. He needed a place to think, someplace Hermione wouldn't follow him. Even a Gryffindor wasn't stupid enough to go out in this weather, which admittedly didn't speak well for his intelligence. Her own familiar wouldn't go outside. Nobody but him would go outside.
The flashes of lightning and claps of thunder convinced him to seek shelter outside of the castle. Hogwarts wasn't safe, not with the image of her in Ron's arms. No, there was another safe place, somewhere he could seek shelter without thinking of her in Weasley's embrace.
Lightning illuminated the Shrieking Shack. Nobody would suspect him of going in there. Everyone thought he hated the place. This was far from the case. She'd saved him there. He still remembered the feeling of Hermione's hand attempting to stop the bleeding in his neck as she poured as many potions as she could down his throat. Under her arms he grew stronger. The fantasy of being with Hermione began in that shack. For one night, he could indulge in thinking she cared for him, even though he knew it wasn't true.
He darted inside the shack as the thunder boomed again. There was a scratch behind him. Eyebrow raised, he opened the door.
"What the bloody hell?" He asked as Crookshanks raced inside. "Why are you here?"
Crookshanks rubbed his head against Severus' knee. The soaked man would've found it endearing if he didn't hear a loud roar from outside the shack. It almost sounded like a muggle train, only deeper and more foreboding.
With no small amount of trepidation, he poked his head outside. His eyes grew as he noticed the wind whip around. The lightning illuminated a funnel emerging form a cloud. It touched the ground and the wind surrounding it howled.
He shook his head. There was no way he saw that correctly. Tornados occurred in Kansas, not Hogwarts.
Lightning illuminated the sky, confirming his worst fears. The tornado was present, and it was heading for the shack. There was nowhere to run, nobody to save him. He was going to die in the shack.
Crookshanks rushed into his arms and clung to him. Severus held him close as he closed the door. The boards creaked under the force of the tornado until they were uprooted from the ground. They were spinning in the vortex of the tornado, bracing for whatever was to come. For a moment he contemplated flying, but there was no way he would be able to escape the vortex. He was trapped, with no feasible way of escaping. All he could do was wait for the tornado to spit him out wherever it desired.
Within a few moments, the shack was expelled from the cyclone, colliding with the ground.
Severus' world went black.