These drabbles are in response to a challenge by Droxy. The whole point is to learn to write concisely (who me?) by writing scenes with no more than one hundred words. This is a post-HBP fic.
I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for stress relief.
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Confessions
"This book does not have the events at the end in the exact sequence, but the author's conclusions are correct," said Severus.
He closed the book and set it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Hermione sat close beside him, gazing into the fireplace in the parlor of the old Victorian. They had returned from Boston in the afternoon.
"At least she acknowledges that you and I had no choice in the end," said Hermione sadly. "If you had not killed Dumbledore that night, you would never have been close enough to Voldemort when we needed you."
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"It was never supposed to be you," he confessed.
"When we first realized the truth, Albus and I were prepared to be the assassins. We assumed both of us would be there at the end. How wrong we were," murmured Severus as he exhaled a long plume of smoke from his cigarette.
"It is why Albus was so willing to die on Astronomy Tower."
"He left messages for Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody. They were on the short list of Order members we believed would be strong enough, committed enough, and powerful enough to do what was necessary."
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The only light in the room was from the fireplace and the glow from Severus' cigarette.
"Events happened faster than I could have ever anticipated," he confessed. "Kingsley and Remus were dead. Bill Weasley and Minerva McGonagall were next on the list for messages from Albus. Their letters reached them an hour after it all ended."
"We should have realized you would be intelligent enough to figure out that Potter had to die by a hand other than Voldemort's to destroy the horcrux. With that bit of soul gone, Voldemort could finally be killed. That was to be my job."
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Hermione was silent and still. The brandy in her glass was warm from her hands wrapped around the bowl of the snifter. She raised her head and met the midnight eyes of the man sitting next to her.
The unshed tears made her eyes gleam, a beautiful shimmering topaz in the firelight.
Severus reached out his hand to her. She released the brandy snifter and took it. His large hand closed around her small one and gave a gentle squeeze.
The tears spilled. The cigarette died in the ashtray as he put his arms around her and pulled her close.
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The collar of his shirt was damp with her tears. Hermione had curled herself around him in her pain, clinging as she laid her head on his shoulder. His hand was gentle as he stroked her hair.
The sobs had stopped. He gave her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and face. She slowly pulled away from him, unfurling as she rested against the cushions of the sofa. She leaned her head against his arm, still wrapped around her shoulder.
"I only figured it out then," said Hermione, her voice still quavering. "The bits and pieces fell into place."
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"There was no time to talk about it," said Hermione, closing her eyes as she remembered, "No chance to warn him. It all happened too fast."
She choked as the words came out.
"I see his face in my dreams. That look of utter horror when he realized it was my wand pointing at him. He didn't know why. He never knew why it looked like I betrayed him in the end. Harry died believing I was a traitor and that Voldemort won."
"And why Ronald Weasley very nearly hexed you to death before I stopped him," said Severus softly.
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"It was never supposed to be you," Severus repeated, his face buried in her hair.
"It was never supposed to be any of you," he said, pulling her tighter against him. "You were only nineteen. Weasley and Potter were eighteen. We adults wanted to protect all of you from the terrible knowledge that Potter had to die before we could kill Voldemort. It destroyed Albus and ultimately destroyed Lupin. The people we chose could have done it. We prepared for it and most of all; we wanted to spare you and Weasley the responsibility of having any part of it."
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"You were already doing your job," continued Severus, "The three of you found the other horcruxes and destroyed them. You and Ronald Weasley protected Potter and kept him alive until the pivotal moment. But, Voldemort figured out what the three of you were doing and stepped up the timetable. There was no time to warn Bill Weasley or the Headmistress. I thought the opportunity might be lost altogether, because I could not kill Potter without Voldemort determining that I was the traitor. He would have killed me the instant I moved against him."
"Instead, you stepped in and did it."
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"I saw the look on your face when you realized what had to be done," he said. "I was standing beside Voldemort in my role as his trusted lieutenant. The Dark Lord wanted Potter to duel with him. All he had to do was kill Potter himself and the piece of his soul would have returned to him. Voldemort would have survived, his immortality preserved. Potter would have died no matter what."
"You looked horrified and then your resolve, your inner strength kicked in. You raised your wand and did the deed Albus and Lupin died rather than do themselves.
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"You took the burden of killing your friend," whispered Severus, his voice thick with emotion. "You killed him and destroyed the horcrux in his scar. The last piece of Voldemort's soul resided in that hideous body he created for himself. You made it possible for me to take the last step and kill Voldemort for the last time."
He was hesitant to say the rest, to reveal his own pain. He knew she needed to hear it and knew he needed to say it.
"I know about dreams," he said, "I see Albus in mine and his look of surprise."
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"You did what Albus Dumbledore asked you to do," said Hermione softly, her arms around him and her head against his neck. "I saw Harry's memory in a Pensieve. Harry misinterpreted Dumbledore's words and your reaction. When I tried to talk to him about it, he never believed me. He was blinded by his hatred of you."
"He never understood that you killed Dumbledore in order to save Draco Malfoy and to put yourself in a place where you would be ready to kill Voldemort when conditions were right."
"You know exactly what it's like to kill your best friend."
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To be continued