A/N: Thank you for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I'm glad you liked it! All of my frustration in actually uploading it undermined my excitement to post it, so I'm glad it was well received. I hope you like this next one, as slow as it may seem. It will pick up after this, I promise!
Chapter Thirty-Three
Severus sat at his desk long after Minerva escorted Hermione to Grimmauld Place, doing nothing but staring at the two items before him. Never in his life had he been gifted anything as meaningful as what he had received today, and the significance of such gifts tormented him in the silence.
The stirring rod... that one he understood. Minerva had been trying to get him to see his worth for months now, and this gift was a clear indicator of her still pursuing that goal. However, he still wondered why she deemed him worth all this extra effort. Was he some sad project for her to fuss over, now that the war was over? Or was all this coddling out of some self-imposed guilt for not seeing past his final deception, and thinking the worse of him?
No, something told him her actions were genuine- that she truly believed him to be the man she had been trying to convince him he was. And while her kindness was appreciated, and her help with Hermione was invaluable, and while he did see her as a true friend... he found he simply could not share her opinion of himself. Not yet.
Still, it did mean a good deal to know that someone cared enough to want that for him.
He held the diamond stirring rod in his hand once more. As a Master of Potions, he was all too aware of the pains it came to create such a thing- the transfiguration alone was difficult, but maintaining the purity of the material required pain-staking concentration and skill. In most cases, the benefits of using such a tool outweighed the efforts of creating or purchasing such a prized item.
With this tool, however, he may very well be able to place himself above other local potioneers, securing future business and success with his higher quality potions. With his reputation regarding the war, there would always be doubters to his true loyalties, and as long as the mark on his arm remained in place, some would hesitate to trust his concoctions. With this, though... those that put their trust in him would see for themselves how seriously he took his work.
Setting the rod down again, he put those thoughts to the side. He could focus on the future of his business at another time- though at this point it might as well be Minerva's venture, seeing as she was behind the majority of his orders and was now taking it upon herself to finance his equipment. Regardless, that could wait.
He had other things to consider.
Slowly, he pulled the Aequationes Temporum forward and studied the cover. This gift, he did not understand.
He understood that they had discussed the book in their letters, and he understood that in said letters he had made his desire for the book very clear. What he didn't understand was why she bought it for him.
This book normally sold for twenty thousand galleons. He was well aware of the high priced reward money the Ministry had shelled out for the trio- he himself had gotten a fair sum as well, though not nearly quite as grand. Still, twenty thousand galleons spent on him... that was over half of the sum an Order of Merlin, First Class would have come with. What on earth inspired her to do such a thing?
A persistent thought in the back of his head told him that it was obviously because she cared for him, but it was an uncomfortable idea to acknowledge. He knew she fancied him; now that he had been made aware of it, it was quite obvious to see. But he had hoped it had been more superficial. Yes, he offered her intelligent conversations and opportunities to express herself, and yes, they had connected well both prior to her moving in and during her stay here, and yes, he was feeling particularly attached to her in ways that tortured him every time she was near, but...
Dropping his head in his hands, his elbows braced on either side of the book, he let out a low groan. He couldn't fool himself anymore- this was no mere crush on her end. She fancied him, truly fancied him, and all he had to do to see the evidence was to look down at the Aequationes Temporum before him.
What was he to do? She was as yet unaware of his feelings for her- at least he hoped she was- and he refused to admit it lest it skew her decision to leave. Of course, he wanted her to stay, and it was tempting, it truly was; but he knew that doing so would only continue to separate her from those she deeply missed, and he didn't know how much more of that she could stand.
She would miss you, too, a voice argued, and he grimaced into his hands before dropping them. Yes, she would, but being able to see Potter and Weasley whenever they were able would be better for her in the long run, and Molly and Arthur were far better guardians than he would ever hope to be. Their friendship had started through letters- they could transition back to it again. It would be enough.
It would have to be enough.
"Oh, who am I kidding?" He planted his hands on the desk and stood, glaring down at the items that caused him this inner distress. "It will never be enough. It won't be enough until I have her in my arms for good." Pushing himself from the desk, he walked over to the bookcases, glaring at the spines before him. "But when do I ever get what I want, when it matters the most to me?"
You're the only one to blame for that, that same voice argued again. You know how she feels- why deny yourself what you both clearly want?
"Because she deserves so much better than me!" he growled, turning to pace before the shelves. Why he was arguing with himself, he didn't know, but he couldn't stop now that he'd started. "Because the moment she realizes that, it will ruin me far more completely than if I had just held back!"
She wants you.
"She wants the idea of me." Stopping before the window, the spelled snow still floating down beyond it, he frowned at his reflection. "She wants someone who will listen; she wants someone who can build up that intellectually passionate side of her without ridiculing what they don't understand. She wants... She wants someone who won't judge the darkness inside of her." Turning from the window with a glower, he began to pace once more. "My darkness will overpower hers; she won't be able to see past all that I've done, and neither will anyone else. She'll drown in it."
She'll outshine it.
"I know!" His shout echoed around the room and into the hall, and he was immensely glad he was alone. Running his hands through his hair, he gripped the strands by the roots and pulled. "I know she would- of course she would! But that isn't the point!"
The point is, you're terrified.
"Yes," he breathed, leaning against the back of the couch. His hair falling forward as he buried his head in his hands once more, he whispered, "I am petrified. I would rather keep a part of her than lose all of her."
Then you will never be happy.
He sighed, a long, weary exhalation, as his shoulders collapsed inwards. That, he was well aware of.
Hermione sat in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place alone the next morning, tucked in the corner of the couch with a book on her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. It wasn't the book from Severus- she hadn't felt comfortable bringing such a personal gift with her- but the book McGonagall had given her on magical energy theory. They had discussed once, over tea, how fascinating she had found the practice of magical boosting to be, and lamented over the practice falling more or less out of fashion. This book, she was told, gave an in-depth look at the properties of merging magic, and theories as to why each witch or wizard had a signature feel in their magical aura. She found herself fascinated, so engrossed in fact that she was completely taken aback when Harry joined her.
She nearly missed spilling tea all over the pages and onto her new sweater when he said a cheery hello, and she snapped over his laughter, "You'd better thank Merlin I didn't spill any of this or you'd owe me a new book."
"What, the one I gave you isn't good enough?" He asked as he sat in an armchair across from her.
She glanced down at the other book she had brought with her, sitting on the couch next to her. "Actually, it's wonderful," she told him. "I'm glad to have another resource for Care of Magical Creatures. Did I tell you that's one topic Severus lacks in his library?"
"Why do you think I bought it for you?" He pulled one leg up on the seat with him, and asked, "I take it Ron's still sleeping?"
"If he's awake he hasn't come to find me." She closed the book on her lap and set it on top of the other, holding her teacup with both hands. Noticing her friend's odd stare, she asked, "What is it?"
Harry shook himself and shifted, sitting a little straighter. "I was just wondering how Snape liked his gift."
"No you weren't," she accused, and he grinned. "But he liked it very much. He almost didn't accept it, claiming he knew what it cost and couldn't possibly-"
"You told him how much it cost you?"
"Oh, no," she laughed. "He knows nothing about all that. He knows what it usually goes for. All I told him is that it didn't cost me as much as he thought it did." She paused, before adding, "Thank you again, by the way. You have no idea how much that helped."
When she had first started the bargaining aspect of purchasing the Aequationes Temporum, she had tried to offer many things to attempt to get the price down as much as possible. She offered to send them a replica of her extended handbag, offered to send them rare local potions ingredients, had even offered them a good supply of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' more high-end items such as shield cloaks and imported goods, as Ginny had suggested. When she finally asked what they wanted that would be worth dropping the price, they had asked her for one thing she hadn't expected- an autographed photo of Harry Potter.
It so happened that the seller had a daughter living in England, who had a close call a number of years ago during a Death Eater raid. Since then, they had paid close attention to the war and Voldemort's power plays, and worried endlessly for their daughter, for she had married a muggle and refused to leave the country. Thus, the seller had a large bit of respect for Harry Potter, and if they could only have an autograph, they would sell her the book for a fraction of the price.
When she asked if her autograph was at all valuable to them as well, they told her, 'feel free to send it, but I will not be dropping the price any farther.'
So she had reached out to Harry, and after asking her what she was willing to give for his cooperation and then receiving a howler from Ginny at work calling him a heartless ponce, he had gladly given her the photo.
In front of her, Harry waved off her thanks. "It cost me what, two minutes out of my day? Besides, after the howler, no one at work would leave me alone until I sent the bloody thing."
"Ginny was thrilled, by the way." He snorted as she shifted, stretching her arms over her head. "So, what were you really thinking about?"
His grin faded as he glanced behind him, as if checking for any eavesdroppers. "I was just... wanting to check in with you. About the whole 'Ron' situation."
Hermione sighed. She had wondered when he would ask, and was glad he had held off for as long as he did. "Ron and I talked last night. We both agreed that while neither of us regrets trying to be together, neither of us wants to try again." At his look of relief, she added, "He was actually quite insightful about the entire situation. Whoever he met has really given him an entirely new perspective."
Harry's expression shifted from relieved to shocked in moments. "He told you about that?"
"Well," she said, smiling cheekily, "I sort of figured it out. He had the decency not to deny it." Face sobering, she clasped her hands together and asked, "So, who is she?"
Looking back towards the door, Harry looked hesitant to speak. "I'm not asking out of jealousy," Hermione assured him. "I am genuinely curious. I just didn't think Ron would want to talk to me about it much."
Nodding slowly, Harry turned back towards her. "Her name is Claire Beaumont. She works as a mediwitch tasked to overseeing the aurors. You can imagine how they met."
"You can't be serious." At Harry's questioning stare, she laughed and said, "It just makes so much sense. Ron, falling for the cute woman patching him up? It's like a twisted Florence Nightingale situation." Hermione leaned back in her seat, scratching the side of her nose as she thought. "I'm not the pandering type. I never will be. But that's exactly what Ron needs, isn't it? Someone to comfort him and make him feel cared for?"
"She's more like you than you're imagining," Harry admitted. "She can be downright scary when her patients don't do what she tells them to. But I think Ron likes that."
"It probably reminds him of his mother," she muttered under her breath, but by the way Harry burst out laughing, he had obviously heard her.
"What's so funny?" Came a voice at the doorway, and the topic of their discussion stepped into the room, still in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt. Hermione fought the guilty blush that threatened to spread across her cheeks, but Harry's laughter filled the room again.
"I was just telling Hermione about how Claire could wipe the floor with you if she felt the need to," he said gleefully.
Ron flushed as he halted on his way to the other armchair, before smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, no kidding," he mumbled awkwardly as he leaned against the armrest. "Erm, why were you talking about her?"
Before anyone could answer, a call rang out from downstairs and Hermione rose to her feet with a sad sigh. "Time certainly flies outside of the cottage," she lamented, looking over at the clock on the shelf. "Harry, could you let McGonagall know I'll be down in a moment? I'm just going to grab my things."
Five minutes later, her items all shrunk and stored in her pocket, she hugged her friends tightly. "See you in a week," she said to them both, smiling past the disappointment of a short visit, before stepping back towards McGonagall.
"Looking forward to it," Harry grinned, and Ron nodded silently. With one more wave, Hermione activated the floo and stepped through the fire, back to the cottage.
The living room was empty when she arrived, but shortly after she stepped from the hearth she heard footsteps across the hall. She looked over just as Severus stepped into the room, nodding to her in welcome. "No entourage today?" he asked, looking at the fireplace.
As if in protest of his assumption, the fireplace flashed green once more and Professor McGonagall stepped from the flames. "Ah, there you are," he said as a way of greeting, and the professor frowned at him.
"Forgive me for not flooing in on the heels of Hermione, Severus- I didn't think you would be so eager to see me."
"Don't think so highly of yourself," he remarked as he leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. "I was just making sure you were fullfilling your duties."
"It was highly unnecessary," Hermione complained as she collapsed on the couch. "Flooing there I can understand, but flooing back is perfectly safe."
"Be that as it may," McGonagall said quickly before Severus could respond, "I have done my duty, and now must go. It was a pleasure to share the holiday with you both, and I will see you on Sunday." Looking over at Hermione, she added, "I hope you will make your decision by then- I'm sure Molly would appreciate knowing as soon as possible."
Looking away, Hermione nodded. "I'll give it some more thought," she promised, and echoed the professor's farewell as she stepped back into the fire.
In the ensuing silence that followed, Hermione turned her head to find Severus looking at her curiously. Having met her stare, he cleared his throat and stepped into the room properly. Sitting in his seat, he crossed an ankle over his knee and asked, "So, did you have a pleasant visit?"
"I did, yes," she replied as she sat on the couch, before asking, "Did you enjoy the quiet?"
"Actually, I found it rather dull," he told her with a quirk of his lips. "I must admit I've grown rather comfortable with your incessant babbling and constant presence."
"Don't tell me you're re-thinking your hermit lifestyle," she teased, and he smirked.
"Not quite," he said coyly as he watched her unload her pockets onto the coffee table. "Presents?"
"Mhm," she said, waving her wand and returning them to their natural size. Picking up a packet of peppermint toads, she held out the bag in offering and shrugged at his decline. Biting into one, she started to sort through the few items in front of her. "Harry made it a point to buy me a Care of Magical Creatures book, since your library was found to be lacking." He snorted, and she handed it to him to flip through as she continued. "Ron gave me these-" she held up the frogs- "and this nice hair clip for when I'm brewing. Ginny, who unfortunately wasn't there, gave me a nice stationary set, and Mrs Weasley had sent homemade fudge and this sweater." She plucked at the lavender top she wore.
"You've received quite a haul," he commented, closing the book and handing it back to her. "And how was Mr Weasley?"
Hermione looked up in surprise at the question. His face was carefully impassive, she noticed, and she sat up straighter. "He was just fine."
He raised his eyebrow in doubt and she rolled her eyes. "He was fine, Severus. I swear, everyone and their owl is interested in my and his relationship."
She could have sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath, but when she looked over Severus was sitting calmly, adjusting his cuff. "Your relationship has given many of us cause for worry in the past. I don't take kindly to my friends so distraught that they can't so much as pick up a quill for a week."
She flushed, the heat spreading throughout her entire body as she realized what he was referring to. "I didn't know that had upset you so much."
He looked at her as if she had said something particularly dumb. "You were distressed, Hermione. Of course it upset me." Turning his head towards the fire, he frowned into the flames. "But I'm glad you've... made up."
She took a moment to study him, noting the frown lines between his brows and the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest. "You don't look glad," she said, and his eyes darted in her direction before he angled his head her way.
"Forgive me, Hermione," he said, his voice low and tight. "I know he means a great deal to you. I just cannot understand what you could possibly see in him." He turned back towards the fire, his lips thinning, and Hermione stared.
Shocked by his words, her eyes darted over him as she tried to understand what he was telling her. She had known he hadn't liked Ron, but never before had he expressed it to her in regards to their dating. In fact, he hadn't discussed her relationship with him at all. Yet now he sat here, telling her he didn't approve, all while looking irritated and angry and- if she didn't know better- jealous, so much so that she couldn't think of anything to say.
"Well," she finally spoke, "It's a good thing we aren't together again, then."
His head whipped around and he stared at her in surprise. "You aren't?"
She shook her head. "We decided we aren't good together in that way. We aren't what the other needs right now, and that isn't a problem that will go away."
His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled slowly, the lines on his face softening. "My apologies. I had assumed-"
"Why didn't you say anything before?" she asked, interrupting.
He blinked. "It wasn't my place."
"But you told me after the break-up, when I first moved in, that we would make amends. Why would you encourage that, if you thought we were so terrible together?"
He sighed and shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Again, Hermione, it wasn't my place to assume one way or another. I shouldn't have said anything today, either- and I apologize for doing so."
"Why did you, then?" She asked, and he turned quickly back to the fire. "Why did you say something today?"
"I was..." He cleared his throat, and she couldn't be entirely sure in the lighting, but she was almost certain she could see some spots of color on his cheeks. "I was taken aback, is all. I hadn't expected you to... it was unexpected."
He stood, then, walking past her without looking her way. She reached out and grabbed his hand, halting his movement, and asked, "Why are you leaving? I just got back; I had hoped we could talk a while."
He stared out into the hall. "I have potions," was all he said, and gently pulled his hand free. "I'll see you at dinner."
Frowning at his retreating back, Hermione pulled a pillow into her lap and wrapped her arms around it. After a few minutes of contemplation, she set the pillow down again and stood, following him into the lab. She was surprised to find the door unlocked; she found him leaning over the ingredients table, palms flat on the surface, and he spun around quickly as she entered. "What are you-"
Closing the door, she crossed her arms and leaned back against it. "If you don't want to talk about Ron you can just say so, you know."
"Hermione, I have work-"
"No you don't. I helped you brew everything before Christmas, remember? I made a big deal out of you having the day off."
"I've had my day off. Now it's time to get back to work."
"McGonagall gave you another order, then? I wasn't aware she had brought it with her yesterday. Because she certainly didn't bring it this morning."
He took a deep breath, mimicking her crossed-arms stance. "You know as well as I that those order forms are as predictable as the moon cycle. I don't need one to start brewing."
"So you are brewing for St Mungo's?" she asked, stepping forward. "Then allow me to help."
"Why are you so insistent on clinging to me today?" he sneered.
"Why are you so insistent on avoiding me again?" she retorted, pulling ingredients off of the shelf. "Maybe I want to spend time with you. Is that a crime?"
"Perhaps I wanted time to myself," he growled, tearing the proffered jar of valerian root from her outstretched hand.
She set the other ingredients down herself. "I thought you had grown used to my incessant babbling and constant presence."
When he didn't reply, she looked up. "What is it?" she asked when she saw he was watching her.
He shook his head, walking over to the ingredients shelf himself. "You are impossibly stubborn. If you're going to stay, you can start with the burn paste."
Silently celebrating her win, she quirked her lips and started to set up her area. Every time her stubbornness overpowered his own, she felt a sense of accomplishment akin to solving a difficult equation. She knew that if she had left him to brew on his own, he would have emerged in the evening quiet and reserved. Now, fighting past whatever had come over him, they were comfortably falling into an old routine. The sounds of chopping and grinding filled the room, and soon she was lost in the unique sensations of potion-making.
She wouldn't say brewing was her favorite form of magic, nor was she particularly gifted in the subject, but Hermione had to admit that she lost herself in the actions. Time flew by as she ground, chopped, and stirred; the wafts of steam and heat of the fire below the cauldron calmed her, lulling her into a peaceful state. And in potions such as the burn-healing paste, which was very straight forward and had been brewed by her a number of times, she found it a great time to focus on other problems.
For instance, the dilemma she now faced.
Seeing Harry and Ron again had shown her just how badly she had missed them. Being face to face with her best friends had solidified the fact that she was incredibly isolated as long as she stayed here. It made Mrs Weasley's offer incredibly tempting. But should she take her up on it?
It would be a huge change. She would still be isolated, only seeing the Weasleys day to day and not being able to leave the property, but she would have more chances to have visitors. She wouldn't be able to brew anymore, but perhaps there was something else she could help with while she was there. And Crookshanks had always enjoyed the Burrow; that wasn't to say he was unhappy at the cottage, but she could never be sure if Severus resented the cat being here or not.
Thoughts of Severus brought her to the other reason she contemplated leaving. She wished he would come out and say what he preferred her to do- it would make her decision so much easier. He swore she was welcome as long as she wished to stay, but that didn't mean he wanted her here. They got along well enough for the most part, but when they fought- and they had fought plenty, from light bickering to the all-out blow up that was the situation with the Defense book- she couldn't help but feel like he resented her being there.
And then the issue of his privacy was one to consider. His face the day she walked in on him shirtless, while not much more shocked than her own, emphasized the fact that he was not used to living with another person. He brushed the incidence off easily enough, but it was obvious he had temporarily forgotten her presence in his sleep-addled confusion, and she had thoroughly shocked him when she appeared in front of him. Was it really fair to keep imposing on his life like this? Was he feeling smothered by her being here? Why wouldn't he just tell her?
He seemed to like her company well enough most days, but there were times- times like earlier- where he seemed to want to be as far away from her as possible. If she were being honest, she had come to rely on his nearness, even if he were in the other room, but that didn't mean he shared that feeling. Was her presence a dark shadow, looming over him as a reminder of what had conspired against them? Was she forcing him to constantly face what he viewed was his own failure?
For her part, she was not aching to leave this place. It had begun to feel like a home to her. Her only true hesitation in staying was his feelings on the matter, and she couldn't read him well enough to determine that without him flat out telling her. As he refused to do so, leaving the decision entirely up to her, she felt lost in the gravity of such a choice.
The isolation was bearable whilst they were on good terms; the only time it had truly hit her was when they fought. Even then, though, the obvious noises of a second person existing in the home had helped. Yes, she missed Harry and Ron terribly, but if she were still in school she wouldn't be seeing them often anyway. Perhaps... perhaps Severus would agree to let them visit, at least once or twice. He seemed relatively all right with Harry here that one day.
Then again, thinking back on his reaction to Ron earlier, it was unlikely he would let the redhead past the hearth before shoving him back through.
Her potion was simmering, nearly complete, and she was no closer to an answer. She knew now that she wanted to stay, but should she? Staring back at the man in question, she realized that while all the pluses of moving to the Burrow were beneficial, they were merely ways to convince herself that it wouldn't be so bad to leave. She just needed a catalyst, something that would convince her one way or the other. She couldn't make this decision on her own.
She had to, though. And soon.
