Wars of our Fathers
A fan fiction by labrt2004
Chapter Eight
Written for debjunk in the Autumn 2011 SS/HG Exchange
Disclaimer: None of it is mine.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas, la_syren and snarkyroxy, for your tremendous help. And thank you,debjunk, for the great prompt. And thank you mods, for another wonderful exchange! This story is shamelessly AU. I've basically just taken whatever bits of canon are convenient and tossed out whatever bits aren't. :) Hope you enjoy it.
Dejunk's prompt: Severus Snape's heart has been sealed against women ever since the fiasco with Lily. He finds himself paired with Hermione Granger in some sort of working atmosphere and is not pleased. Things warm up to amiable at some point and during a discussion Severus comments icily that women are heartless users and are not to be trusted. Our resident know-it-all sets out to prove him wrong, and eventually succeeds.
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Hermione jolted awake, limbs tangled in sheets and body covered in a cold sweat. She had been chasing after her parents as they ran down a hillside. She screamed their names, but they didn't hear her, continuing to run until they met Voldemort, who waited at the bottom with his wand raised. A wash of green followed as her parents fell to the ground in the blinding light of the Killing Curse.
She realized she wasn't in her bed, and frantically, she groped in the dark for her wand, until a solid arm encircled her firmly and a low, sleep-slurred voice sounded from the ink black surroundings.
"Hermione. It was just a dream."
She whimpered, still struggling, the last vestiges of her nightmare causing her to reflexively fight.
"Lumos." Wandlight flashed. She felt herself hauled against the length of a warm body, enclosed in a tight embrace. "You're all right now," said the voice gently.
She squinted into the light and saw black hair, dark eyes, and the rugged outline of angular cheek bones. "Severus!" she half-sobbed in relief.
Lips traced a line from her ear down her neck, to her collar. "Shhhh..."
She fell still, her eyes closing, almost drugged into a stupor by the bliss of waking from a nightmare in someone's arms.
Severus put the wandlight back out, then rearranged himself more comfortably around her. He stroked her hair, wondering at the fierce sense of protectiveness that had taken hold of him. He shook his head, deciding not to dwell too much upon it.
"What was it?" he asked quietly.
She chewed her lip. "Parents," she finally answered. She felt calm now, safe.
There was silence for a long moment. Then he said, "It was not your fault."
She was too exhausted to work out the implications of his answer.
"Go to sleep," he said, hand resting possessively over her abdomen.
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Severus folded his hands on his desk and considered the pale-faced, sullen student before him. Potter was also in the office, standing off to the side, by the bookshelves.
"Mr. Goyle. You are fortunate to have friends who cared enough about you to come to us."
"Don't see how that's true," the child muttered. "I told them not to tell anyone."
"You wished them to continue placing themselves into harm's way on your behalf?" Severus said levelly. He would have liked nothing more than to shake some sense into the boy, but he didn't want to risk further alienating him. "Not to mention, you yourself were in great danger, trusting potions made by Scorpius, who is barely tall enough to reach over the counters of Knockturn Alley, where he no doubt procured the ingredients."
Goyle did not respond to this, only slouching unhappily into his chair.
Severus used his wand to levitate a flask of grey-colored potion before them. "This is Wolfsbane, Mr. Goyle. Brewed personally by Professor Granger. She will continue to make it for you on a regular basis as long as you are a student here."
The boy finally stirred from his apathy. He reached for the potion, expression torn between relief and misery. "Thank you, sir."
Severus nodded and rubbed a hand tiredly across over his jaw, wishing for the thousandth time that Albus were here. The old headmaster was much more adept than he at handling adolescent angst.
"I am aware of the difficulties at home, Luke," he said softly. "I trust that you already understand how lycanthropy does not change the essence of who you are, and it is nothing to be ashamed of. Professor Granger would be more than happy to speak to you should you need it."
Goyle squirmed in the chair. "Okay, sir."
Severus took another breath. "There is also the matter of your health. Madam Russell, the school nurse, will be following up with you regularly to ensure you remain as well as you can through your transformations.
"Finally. I will speak to your father. However, Professor Potter here will be teaching you a few basic defensive spells. In case they are needed at home."
The boy's head lifted at this, his eyes widening in startlement. All his affected indifference fell away, leaving only painful gratitude.
"Is there anything else?" Severus finished, voice slightly subdued.
Shaking his head slowly, he whispered, "No. Thanks."
Severus waved his hand. "That will be all. Now do excuse us while I have a word with Professor Potter. He'll join you shortly."
"How is the youngest Mr. Potter, then?" inquired Severus after Goyle left.
Potter's countenance darkened. "In a hell of a lot of trouble. Although..." he sighed dramatically. "The irony is almost too good to be true. A son of mine in Slytherin decides to help a werewolf?"
"It seems that none of your line will ever stay out of trouble," said Severus, "which is why I wanted to keep you here for a moment. I do not need to impress upon you the importance of keeping that bloody cloak of yours locked away in a vault somewhere!"
Potter rolled his eyes. "Consider it done. Already got this lecture from Hermione." After a pause, he added, "Good move, by the way. Making her Head of Slytherin. Although if Ron were ever to find out, he'd go berserk."
"Well, isn't it fortunate for us that Mr. Weasley is not here?"
The boy was studying him with an overly interested air now. "You know, she's made you soft. Weird, but good, I think."
"I do not know what you are talking about," said Severus stonily.
"Oh, come off it. I see how the two of you look at each other over the dinner table. It would almost be too disturbing, if I didn't actually think you two were made for each other," Potter teased.
He scowled. "Nothing has changed."
"Right, and I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived. You're way more mellow than you were before. You're not tetchy all the time anymore. And the way you treated Goyle was almost... nice."
Severus crossed his arms. "I am not ever tetchy."
But he wondered, all the same, about how his life had become different in the last few weeks. He found repose in her company, he decided, and he enjoyed the time they spent together. His mind constantly strayed to thoughts of her during the day, and he looked forward to nights they would spend either in her office or his, drinking tea, marking student papers, or answering owls from parents. And... she bewitched him. There was a stormy passion between them that neither tried to deny. It was all a pattern he found acceptable, even comfortable, but he refused to infuse their association with any deeper meaning. That was a road, he knew, leading only to folly.
Potter's smirk drew him out of his thoughts. "Don't worry, the changes are only noticeable to people who actually know you. To everyone else, you're still the same old git."
Severus pointed to the pile of scrolls on his desk. "Performance reviews are approaching. I suggest you go do something useful with your time now."
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The roar of the Floo in Hermione's chambers caused her to look up, startled, from her perusal of Potions Monthly. Severus stumbled out, grasping his arm, scattering a cloud of ash.
"Severus!" she gasped, bounding up and moving to steady him, guiding him to the couch. A scarlet stain was spreading beneath his fingers, where his hand pressed against an ugly gash. "Accio Dittany!"
He grunted in pain as she settled him into the cushions. "Blasted pillock, Goyle."
"You went to see Goyle? What happened, for Merlin's sake? How did he manage to do this to you?" The Dittany flew into her hands and she twisted it open, beginning to apply it to his wounds.
"He didn't..." Severus began before jerking his arm away. "Let me!" he hissed, snatching the jar from her. "That vermin was always a talentless imbecile, couldn't defeat me in a true duel of wands so he set his bloody house-elf on me instead." He struggled now to peel away his blood-soaked robe.
"You dueled him?"
Severus didn't answer; his hands shook as he applied the Dittany, and his jaw was rigid from effort.
"Severus, give me that and let me help you!" Hermione demanded, reaching again for the ointment.
"NO!" he roared, sitting up violently. A pile of books flew off the end table.
Hermione flinched, jumping backward.
Severus saw her stunned expression through a haze of pain. He brought a trembling hand to cover his face briefly, trying to calm himself, feeling edgy energy bleed out of him. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he breathed raggedly. "I cannot be touched after a meeting like this. I simply..." he shook his head, unable to finish.
Hermione's heart clenched. "I understand," she said soothingly. She summoned more potions. "Take something for the pain first, then."
Gratefully, he accepted the tonic and downed it, his agony gradually receding. He sat there in dazed relief, eyes closed, head thrown backward against the couch.
"Tell me what happened," she said softly, drawing him out.
Without opening his eyes, he began, "Well, I went to Gregory Goyle's, as promised. He was, shall we say, not pleased to see me."
"I can only imagine," said Hermione.
"Informed him of the news with Luke. Told him that I would be keeping a close eye on him just to ensure everyone was behaving civilly to each other."
Severus smiled coldly, and Hermione saw the Severus Snape of ten years ago, the hardened spy and soldier.
"He made known his opinions of me. I revealed that I also knew a few unflattering things about him."
"Such as?" she asked, hardly daring to wonder.
"Such as for all his posturing as a proper pure-blooded apologetic, he happens to be the bastard son of a Muggle father and witch mother, and that of course, he owes a Wizard's debt to Mr. Potter."
Hermione shook her head in wonder. "The things you do manage to find to hold at each other's necks!" she groused.
Severus' lips lifted in a slightly more relaxed smile. "Believe it or not, that is all it takes."
"And then?" she prompted.
"And then the coward pulled his wand. I dispatched him with a blasting curse, but not before I was devoured alive by the elf. I splinched during Apparition and was obliged to Floo the rest of the way."
He visibly deflated after he finished his tale, weighed down by his many burdens, and Hermione felt a flood of tender commiseration for a man who seemed to live only by fighting.
She sat down next to him, taking care not to disturb him.
He opened his eyes, which were dark and shadowed by pain.
Slowly, she reached for his arm, which was still oozing blood. "May I?" she asked.
He hesitated, then nodded, moving it closer to her.
The sting of the Dittany caused Severus' eyes to water. Being with Goyle had set into motion automatic defenses in him that were essential for remaining alive when he was serving the Dark Lord. As he subjected himself now to her ministrations, he gradually trusted her to see him in this state, in which his mind was not fully his and past collided with present.
"Severus?"
Like a man lost, he suddenly reached blindly for her, and found himself cradled in a soft embrace, the scent of rose water permeating through his nostrils.
"I—I almost could not do it anymore," he confessed. "It gets increasingly harder now. To find the energy to deal with people like Goyle."
"And yet, people expect you to?"
He marveled at her perceptiveness. "Yes. I don't know how Albus did it."
"I think you're doing a remarkable job, Severus. I'm very proud of you."
He sat back up and pulled her into the crook of his good arm, tucking her head beneath his chin. "When I came back just now, it felt like one of the old days. After a meeting with him. During which I would spend hours with my face pressed into the dirt or kissing his filthy robes. I couldn't bear the idea of you touching me like that, Hermione."
She murmured, signaling that she was listening.
"I... sometimes wonder if I can never be rid of it. Ten years, an Order of Merlin, and the complete adulation of the wizarding public, and I still feel like Voldemort's bloody servant."
"Severus," she said firmly. "You are not. You never were truly, otherwise you could never have turned against him. And you must stop believing that you have to keep trying to atone for something. You have done far more than your share in this war that never ends."
He listened to her, holding her and feeling their heartbeats hammer together in unison. He was enveloped by a sense of peace and a knowledge that there was no place he'd rather be than here, with her, on a couch before a crackling fire. The frenzied thoughts of mundane existence were kept at bay, as long as he could be with her.
"And you," he whispered, fingers wandering up her neck to stroke the sensitive skin behind her ear. "have you not done much the same?"
She smiled faintly, understanding his unstated rebuke about her parents.
He squeezed her a bit tighter. "I... am pleased that I went to your door that day and forced you to take this job."
Her eyes drifted closed. "As am I."
She had just fallen in love with Severus Snape.
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Hermione stared into her coffee cup. "Thanks for sitting down with me, Neville," she said to her companion.
Neville pulled off his work gloves and peeled away his outdoor gear. "'Course, Hermione! I'm always happy to catch up with you!"
They sat on a terrace outside the greenhouses, watching the last of the autumn leaves blow by. The temperature outside was crisp, bordering on cold, as winter approached.
"So... I actually have a purpose to this meeting other than just talking," she began.
Neville nodded. "Okay, go on."
"You know all about my... issues. The problems I've had with speaking in front of audiences."
Her friend smiled. "I think you've been spectacular at overcoming it, though. I know that you don't need your magical recordings anymore."
"No, I don't," she agreed. "I've been using Occlumency to get through my classes. I almost never have episodes anymore. But... I would like to stop having to resort to any more crutches, whether it's magical recordings or Occlumency. The real underlying problem that I've yet to work up the courage to face is... my parents."
"Oh..." Neville said, a knowing note in his voice.
"During our seventh year," she said, "I had to leave school with Harry and Ron to find Voldemort's remaining horcruxes."
"I remember."
"I was worried about what Voldemort might do to find Harry, like sending people to my house to question my parents. So I modified their memories. Well, sort of Obliviated them, more like it. And I sent them off to live in Australia, where they had no notion that I ever existed."
Neville nodded again.
"When the War was over, I, of course, went off to find them again. I tried to reverse the spell. But somehow, I mucked it up. I ended up making them senseless vegetables, instead," she said, determinedly keeping her voice steady. "They couldn't find a cure at St. Mungo's. So I had to send them off to live in a Muggle psychiatric institute in Warwickshire."
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry," he said compassionately.
"So then, I was so... fed up with the whole experience that I just threw myself into university, then law school, then barrister training. I just didn't want tothink about anything, Neville! And just working until I dropped was a solution for a while. But then on my first day as a prosecutor before the Wizengamot, I totally froze. Freaked out. I suddenly saw this woman, who kind of looked like my mum. And I couldn't speak at all."
"Right..."
"And that's how I became an anti-social pariah for five years, until Severus came and hauled me here."
She took a breath. "So, I think it's time for me to visit my parents. I haven't, you know, ever since I put them in hospital ten years ago. And I was hoping... I..."
"That I'd help you with it, because I have parents in a similar situation?" said Neville gently.
"Yes," she said, flushing. "I'm sorry if I'm touching on a painful topic for you."
Neville shook his head. "It's not, really. Not anymore. See, all my life, I've never had parents, so it was a little bit different for me. I think for you, you need to first come to terms with the fact that it really wasn't your fault.
"But... as far as having parents like ours goes... I think you just have to accept them. Accept them as they are. I don't have any clue what my parents were like before they went to live at St. Mungo's. But I don't try to wish for them to be anything other than how they're like now."
Hermione stirred her coffee thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose that would be a big challenge for me. Because I do have all these memories of how they used to be. And part of the reason I get so terrified whenever I think about them is because I keep saying to myself, they'll never be that way again."
"Exactly. You should go see them, Hermione. Half the battle is making the decision to go. Your fear of the unknown is just as strong as your fear of the thing itself. If you want, I could go with you."
Hermione smiled. "Thanks, you've been so helpful already. But I think someone else has already volunteered for that job..."
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