Christmas was never going to be a happy, fuzzy holiday for the grown-ups. For the kids, yes.
Christmas Eve found Hermione crying in the shower. Crying for all she had lost, crying for all she had seen, and crying, above all, for them.
Hermione did not allow herself to cry often; only when overwhelmed and especially alone. She had broken down once before Severus, and was determined not to do so again. He had hated it and she had hated it. It was weakness and it would overwhelm her.
But here, in the shower, she could hide her sobs in the sound of the spray, curl up, and let herself break down. Once she got it out of her system, she could wash it off and step out. It would be like it had never even happened.
I like starting with something like this and then going back in time to show us leading up to it; I wish I had occasion to do it more often in my stories. The same trick was used to great effect in the most recent episode of "Sherlock" (THOUGH I DID IT FIRST!)
TWELVE HOURS EARLIER
Miss Granger met Leopold at the station, offering him a hug as a welcome. Gryffindors, Leopold had discovered, had to hug constantly. Couldn't avoid it. Seemed they would die if they couldn't do it. So he tolerated her hug when he would preferred the handshake Mr. Snape would have offered.
Leo's a Gryffindor by nature, but a Slytherin by nurture.
Snape. They had to talk. Today.
Miss Granger was asking him all sorts of questions about the trip and his friends. He gave honest answers but kept to himself the fact that he and Clara had held hands the whole way to London. That was private.
Too freaking cute.
Miss Granger had offered her hand to Leopold and he took it; he hated side-along Apparition but it really was convenient. With a pop they arrived in the doorway of the house at Grimmauld Place. Number Twelve.
Before he had even a second to realise what was happening he found himself enveloped in a mass of curly blonde hair and teary blue eyes. Ermengarde was wrapped so tightly around him he could barely breathe. He was not sure when he had done it but he found his arms wrapped tightly around her, stroking her hair, pulling her closer. He felt wetness on his cheeks but ignored it for now.
I wanted these two to be very, very close to each other.
Ermengarde, for her part, was sobbing and talking at the same time. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you'd disappear on me like Brigita."
"Never, never," he found himself reassuring her. "I'll never leave you behind."
The two of them, brother and sister, each the only person the other had left in the world, clung to each other, sobbing, in the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Whether it was for a minute or several hours, Leopold did not know. He only knew that he was back where he belonged, with his sister, and that was all he needed.
In the midst of their reunion, Severus had deftly removed Hermione from the room and taken her into the kitchen. Leopold and Ermengarde would need a few minutes alone together, and he, the man who knew the value of solitude and privacy better than perhaps anyone else, was all too happy to give it to them.
Gryffindors have no concept of that. I should know - I am one.
"She really believed he was never coming back," Hermione whispered.
Severus nodded. "She has reason, you know."
Hermione remembered Poppy's parting words from a few weeks ago, but could not help herself saying, "They deserve to know what happened to their sister, Severus. Leopold knows she wasn't at Hogwarts, but he doesn't want to say anything to Ermengarde until he knows for sure what happened to her." She gave him her best piercing-but-not-angry stare.
I don't know where I personally fall on this scale. On the one hand, Severus is right - they are way too young to know about this sort of thing. On the other, leaving things to their imagination isn't exactly better. Difficult choice.
"He's only eleven, Hermione," Severus pointed out. "And he's the eldest one here. There are some things an eleven year old should never hear. This is one of them."
"They have a right to know."
Severus closed his eyes. He knew that she thought she could wear him down on this. It was not going to work. She would do well to remember that.
All he said in response was, "They shouldn't be disturbed right now."
They both turned their heads at the sound of the kitchen door opening, Hermione's hand going for her wand but pausing when she saw who it was. Leopold Clairemont stood in the doorway, cheeks stained with tears, looking at Severus menacingly.
"Mr. Snape," he said calmly in a voice too commanding for a boy of eleven, "You and I need to talk."
Oh, Leo, you're so tough.
"Where is my sister?" Leopold asked without preamble.
Severus crossed his arms and eyed the boy warily. He had taken him down to the cellar to speak; his multiple warnings to not enter the room and permanent silencing charm on the walls ensured that they could speak in confidence.
"She is wherever you left her before you demanded to speak to me," Severus drawled, his voice dripping with indifference. This tactic had been very effective in scaring the courage out of young Gryffindors during his years as a teacher, and he hoped that it would save him now.
"Don't play games with me, Snape," the boy said. Ha. Not even Harry Potter had dared such disrespect in his first year. Also, Snape? Severus thought. Since when does he call me that? "You know that I am talking about Brigita. You know that I know that she is not at Hogwarts and has not been for some time. I think you know where she is and I want you to tell me."
"Your subtlety could use some improvement," Severus mocked. "It is clear why you were sorted into Gryffindor."
I think Severus thinks a lack of subtlety is truly the worst characteristic a person can have, and pointing it out is an insult. Silly man.
"Don't change the subject," Leopold said in a dangerous voice that coldly reminded Severus of his father, Evan Rosier. He must have reminded himself, for his voice suddenly grew smaller and less certain. "Do you know where Brigita is?"
Severus took a sharp inhale and a long look at Leopold. He cursed himself for letting it come to this. None of the others had ever asked him before. None. He was unprepared. He considered for a moment that perhaps Hermione had been right. He really didn't want to think that Hermione might be right. So he summoned his best Professor voice and Professor glare and looked down his long nose at the boy.
"I don't owe you any explanations," he said stiffly.
Way to anticipate this, Master Spy.
"Please…" he said, his earlier anger dissipating, revealing the sad, orphaned boy he really was. I think kids can only handle standing up to Severus for about 2.4 seconds biologically. "My parents are dead, and that makes me the man of my family, and that means that I need to know where my sister is." He swallowed thickly. "Is she even alive?"
For a long time neither said anything. Few first year Hogwarts students had ever dared to enter a staring contest with Severus Snape. Curiously, or perhaps not so curiously, they had all been Gryffindors.
Finally Severus broke the silence. "She is alive."
"Is she safe?"
He hesitated, weighing every word carefully. "She is not in danger." That was not entirely true, but it was true enough. Severus and Leopold lived in a world without absolutes, a world of half-truths. Wars do that.
Half-truths are what we do in this outfit. I think this was also meant to be a little bit of foreshadowing of Hermione and Severus's respective pasts - we know most of the story, but not all of it.
Leopold blinked heavily and sighed. He tore his pale eyes away from the towering man and looked to the floor.
Severus's mind was a tempest. He wanted to protect the boy from knowing his sister's fate, and he knew enough about Gryffindors to know that they had a terrible habit of charging head-first into situations without stopping to think for just one moment. He wanted to protect the boy's innocence just a little longer. But of course, the boy had lost his innocence a long time ago.
Severus, contrary to popular opinion, did not enjoy cruelty. He did not enjoy upsetting children. When he did it, he did it for their own good. And before Hermione had inserted herself into his life, he would have insisted that the way he had been speaking to Leopold was for the boy's own good.
I think canon Severus likes putting people down, but doesn't enjoy actually hurting people.
Unfortunately for Severus, this was the first of his charges to not be in Slytherin. Slytherins would understand. Slytherins would not demand answers, at least not outright. Slytherins would not have formed the attachment in the first place. This boy…he was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors needed to be handled differently. Hermione understood Gryffindors. And… Severus understood Gryffindors better than he would ever admit, and he knew that the less information a Gryffindor had, the stupider they tended act. A Gryffindor left in the dark was liable to act even more irrationally than normal.
Some foreshadowing about Leo's future plans. Also, totally true re: Gryffindors.
Severus didn't even want to think it, but Hermione might, just might, have a point when she said that the boy had every right to know what was happening to his family. Might. Right now, Ermengarde was all Leopold had left. He deserved to know that he still, somewhere, had Brigita. Even Severus had to admit that it was cruel to continue to deny the boy information, any information.
Ever the Slytherin, he equivocated. The boy did deserve to know, and would know.
But not today.
I think that's the most fair compromise he could come up with.
Severus knelt on the floor before Leopold, eye to eye with the boy. "Leopold," he said softly. "I know it's hard, but please trust me in that your sister is alive and is safe. But… for now, it is not safe for you to know where she is."
"Is she in Azkaban?" whispered the little boy who, only a few minutes earlier, had stood toe-to-toe with one of the most terrifying wizards in Britain. Ever the little Gryffindor, Severus thought.
"No," Severus replied softly. "Not in Azkaban. Nowhere near Azkaban." The boy seemed relieved to hear that.
Assuage the immediate fears, then bury it.
"Someday," Severus continued, "I will be able to take you to your sister Brigita. But right now you do the most good for your sister Ermengarde to trust me and stay at Hogwarts. You are right—you are the 'man of the house' so to speak, and you have to do right by them. You do right by them now by trusting me and finishing your education." He tilted the boy's chin up so that their eyes would meet. "Do you trust me?"
He's asking for a lot. Not surprised that this only held Leo off for about 3 months.
Leopold hesitated. He looked into the man's eyes, dark as his own was light, and finally nodded.
"I am grateful you do, Leopold," Severus said. "I will endeavour to continue to earn your trust. I hope that, when we are able to speak of it more, you will forgive me and understand."
Leopold nodded. He had got answers, at least a few of them. Brigita was alive. She was not in Azkaban. For now, that would have to do.
He hated Severus Snape for not sharing more, but he accepted it, at least for now. He had given his word that he would tell Leopold more when the time was right. He found himself believing the man. He was an honourable war hero, the hero of Wizarding Britain, though he seemed like he did not want to be. Such a man would never break his word…
Right?
He had fought tooth and nail to avoid putting up a tree. Said that civilised people did not bring trees into their homes. Said it was too Muggle-ish for a group of pureblood children who had known nothing but Wizarding customs. Said it would only encourage foolish sentimentality. Said that it was unsanitary. Said that no one but she would enjoy it.
A certain Slytherin in my house has said the same thing. Grinch.
"Be a dear and pick up a tree or you're dressing up as Father Christmas," she'd told him after he'd run out of excuses.
He bought the tree, but since decorating it had not been part of their bargain, he left that up to her.
Severus leaned against the wall in the back of the ground floor sitting room as he watched Hermione and Lovegood (alright, Luna—he'd promised Hermione) transfigure and charm the tree to the specifications of the chattering children.
"Turn the faerie lights purple!"
"Grow roses on the branches!"
"Can you make the tree make music?"
"Make snow fall on the tree!"
All things I would do to my Christmas tree if I was magical.
It was such a far cry from the Christmases of recent years, which Severus had not even bothered to celebrate as it got near. He thought it better to ignore the holiday and try to make them forget about it rather than rub in their faces how little the Ministry cared about them. He was not much of a Christmas person as an adult. He had been, in his youth. In spite of Tobias Snape's penchant for ruining things with his temper and his sharp tongue (which his son had regrettably inherited), Christmases in their home had been special.
Severus loved Christmas because it was the only day of the year his mother used magic. She had been good at it. He wished she had used it against his father, to make their lives better. Her heart just hadn't been in it. But on Christmas, she would remember herself and what she was capable of, and teach her son how beautiful magic could be.
Tobias had usually passed out on the couch by half seven, and once they were sure he was out for good, Eileen would take her son by the hand, lead him out to the small back garden, charm it into a thick layer of blue ice, transfigure his shoes into ice skates, and fly with him over the ice. Conjured snowflakes would fall around them, and the softest tinkling of bells could be heard just on the edge of hearing.
He swallowed. Much as she had been neglectful and weak and depressed and stingy with affection, Eileen Snape was still his mother, and every Christmas he allowed himself to miss her.
I wanted Severus to love his mother. I wanted them to have had little bonding moments over the years that he still clings to in a desperate attempt to believe that she truly loved him. I think she did, in her own way.
Hermione and Luna finished decorating the tree to the children's specifications and set about creating the ambiance. With a few flicks of her wand Hermione conjured a hundred candles and set them floating over everyone's heads, not unlike the candles in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, Leopold had pointed out. They dimmed the rest of the lights to maximise the effect. Luna had joined Longbottom (there would be no first names with him, absolutely not) on a settee and charmed the fire to smell like cinnamon.
Other things I would do to decorate.
Suddenly it flared green and two figures climbed out of the fire. "Harry! Ginny!" Luna cried happily.
"What are you doing here?" asked Hermione.
"Well, we have our big to-do with the Weasleys tomorrow and thought, for Christmas Eve, it might be nice to spend with the other half of my family," Harry said happily, looking at Hermione. She beamed back at him. They embraced each other fiercely, giving each other a kiss on the cheek as they did. Ginevra Potter looked on at them, holding her son in one arm and rubbing her pregnant belly with the other. Her expression was complicated. Severus prided himself on being able to read people as easily as books, and yet he could not define her expression. She wasn't unhappy, and she wasn't exactly happy either. Was it… resignation? That would make sense. As much as he knew Harry loved his wife, his relationship with Hermione was something special.
Some foreshadowing. I also think that this would be true even if Harry and Hermione's relationship hadn't turned sexual. They have bonded in a way that few people can, having gone through hell together completely alone. I think Ginny would always feel a bit like a third wheel because of that. I also think that, given the past in this story, she would always be just a little distant. Just a tiny bit - not enough to impact anything. Harry and Hermione don't notice, but Severus notices everything.
Severus couldn't help but be a bit jealous sometimes of Potter. He knew that their relationship was similar to that of siblings and, to the best of his knowledge, always had been. They were both alone in the Wizarding World, and had found comfort in each other. Harry understood Hermione better than just about anyone, even Severus himself, he admitted grudgingly.
More of the same.
He and Lily had never really got to that point, Severus mused. Not like Harry and Hermione. Perhaps if they had had more time together, they could have. He had a feeling that Harry and Hermione had still been ironing the creases out of their friendship in their late teens, and, unlike him and Lily, had done so successfully.
Some more foreshadowing about Severus and Lily. I tried not to be overt about it, but wanted to drop enough hints so that it wouldn't be a total cheat when we got to this point.
He was pleased with his relationship with Hermione. She had stirred feelings with him he had not been aware that he could ever have again, and she affected him. When she was miserable, he was miserable. If she was happy, he was… well, if not exactly happy, at least not miserable. No one else's mood had ever affected his like that before, but then again, Severus had never lived with a lover before. Perhaps this was normal. Lily and he had been in separate houses their entire lives, both in and out of Hogwarts. Perhaps that was how he could have grown to be so oblivious to her moods.
Mr. Amarti had never lived with anyone before me. It was a very new experience for him to find that your partner's moods could affect yours.
"Severus!" Harry called happily from across the room. He made his way over to stand next to him. "Happy Christmas."
Harry would hug him if he thought he would survive the attempt. He knows better.
"And to you," Severus replied cordially but curtly. "We did not expect to see you."
"We weren't expecting to come, either, but it just felt… not right to not be here. Do you know what I mean?"
"No." He really didn't.
"We're friends and a pseudo-family and should spend the holidays together." I also imagine Harry is wearing a Christmas jumper with reindeer on it or something.
"Hard to explain," Harry said, sensing Severus wanted the subject dropped. "It looks lovely in here."
"Hermione and Luna are responsible for it."
"I'm sure you contributed to, you just don't want to admit it." His voice dropped a bit and he edged a bit closer. "While I have you here, I have something I want to tell you. Do you think we could go into the kitchen?"
Severus nodded, wary of what fresh hell Harry Potter would propose tonight. Hehe. Harry motioned for his wife to join them and they made their way into the kitchen.
"Well, there's really no easy way to say this," he began.
"No, there isn't," his wife chimed in, looking very uneasy. None of the Weasleys were comfortable around him just yet.
Ginny doesn't come over any more than she absolutely has to. She's here purely for Harry's sake.
"But, well, as you probably know, we're having another boy…"
Severus hadn't known that - even though Hermione told him - and really didn't know or care where this was going.
"And we want to name him after two of the men who, aside from my parents, really protected and helped us through the war," Harry continued. "So we plan to name our son Albus."
Good God, Severus thought.
"And for a middle name," Harry continued uneasily, "we plan to use Severus. Albus Severus." They looked at him expectantly, as if they expected gratitude from him for this news.
Again, Harry would give him a hug if he could.
To say that he was shocked was an understatement. As quickly as he lost it, Severus regained his composure, screwed his face up into his best glare, and in a deep and dangerous voice said, "No."
"What do you mean, no, it's our way of honouring you!" Harry said.
I love how he reverts to being a tween.
Severus shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"Gin?" Ginny took her husband's hint and took her leave, leaving Harry and Severus alone in the kitchen. "Severus… try me. I know you believe that I cannot be taught, but help me understand."
Originally this discussion was going to go on for much longer and get into all sorts of things about how Severus was the last connection to his parents' generation, etc. but that would have made Harry far too self-aware, so I cut it off. I think the story is better for it.
Severus sighed. "Harry Potter," he gestured between them, "we are not friends."
Harry gave him a stupid smile when he replied. "Of course we are."
I love this interaction. Severus is speaking slowly as if talking to a special needs child.
"No," Severus said in a dangerous voice. "We are not. I tolerate you and you have some misguided perception of me. That is it."
"I know you hate the idea of it, but we are friends."
"No."
"Severus…"
"You have heard what I have to say on the subject," Severus said, his voice like steel again. "I trust I will not have to tell you again." With that, he stalked out of the room.
Bloody boy.
As the night wore on, everyone grew softer and quieter, sitting in the dimmed room, the sights and smells of Christmas all around them. Hermione joined Severus where he leaned against the wall. They showed no outward affection toward each other (the children all knew they were in a relationship but they saw no need to advertise the fact) but did risk brushing their hands together for just one moment, briefly linking their pinky fingers together.
Subtle romance.
Severus noticed that Hermione's eyes were glistening, reflecting the purple lights and candles. With a slight cock of his head and raised eyebrow he asked her if she was all right. She nodded and just said, "I think I need a shower, Transfiguration always takes it out of me." She bade good night to everyone and climbed the stairs.
He watched her go up, debating with himself whether he should follow her up there or not. She had seemed a bit troubled, and as much as he knew Hermione wanted to believe she was good at mastering her emotions, it was very easy to tell when something was on her mind.
He turned back to face the room to find Luna standing before him.
"I know you're debating whether you should go up with her. I think she's a bit upset. She'll need some time alone, but then I think she would like you to follow her once she does."
Severus shook his head. How does she do it? The best Occlumens in all of Wizarding Britain, perhaps the entire Wizarding World, and she could read his mind as easily as Severus could read the emotion of a Gryffindor.
Luna turned to rejoin Longbottom on the couch when Severus stopped her.
"Luna…" She turned and looked at him. "How do you do it?" He knew she would know what he meant.
I wanted this discussion to happen between Severus and Luna at some point, but I wasn't sure when. I thought about leaving it for the end, but also wanted to give him a reason to trust her and open up to her more, particularly with Hermione being gone in later chapters, so decided Christmas would do it. This is sort of the apex of Severus's emotional development. Be proud of him.
She smiled. "I don't do anything special. I just see you."
"See? Like a Seer?"
She shook her head. "No. I just see you, as a person. You say a lot in your eyes. They reveal everything a person needs to know in order to know you, if they're only willing to look."
He considered what she was saying.
"I know you think that you're an inscrutable man, Severus, and in many ways I suppose you are. You assume that because neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort, the two greatest modern Legilimens, could ever read you, that you were unreadable. But if you think about it, Dumbledore was always more focused on his own agenda, and as long as Voldemort heard what he wanted to hear, he wouldn't press you."
Dear God, Severus thought, it's like the witch was at my bloody side during all of it.
"But don't worry, " Luna said cheerfully with her trademark dreamy look, "we can all see you here, and you have nothing to fear from us."
Luna is very much an observer, and I think being a fairly isolated kid would have taught her to really observe and understand people.
Severus had charmed his shower so that water no longer fell from the nozzle but instead in a rainfall from the ceiling. For a man who had not two days ago claimed that only savages brought nature into the home, he seemed to prefer showers that were more like rainfalls. It made for a more enjoyable experience if more than one person was in the shower at a time (and they had tested this thoroughly). It was also just a nice bit of escapism—if Hermione closed her eyes, she could imagine she was outside.
I want that shower. (Does that make me a Mary Sue - wish fulfillment? If so, guilty.)
It had taken every ounce of her self-control to keep herself from breaking down whilst charming the house for Christmas. She could handle her estrangement from her parents every other day of the year, but on Christmas, it was too much. Too many happy memories from her early childhood, too few from recent years. Christmases at the Burrow had been lovely, but at the same time had only reinforced the fact that she no longer had any family of her own.
Crying in the shower is such a painfully lonely thing to do. You're hiding from everyone, including yourself, and masking the sound of it.
Her tears began almost as soon as the charmed water from the ceiling began to fall. At first she stood under the spray, head tilting back and letting tears and raindrops mix. She could hide it that way. Then it had devolved into sobs.
In a house full of people, one she shared with her lover, she felt completely and utterly alone.
She did not regret erasing herself from her parents' memories for one moment. It had saved their lives and kept them hidden from all threats. Even now, over seven years later, Hermione was not entirely sure that it would be safe to attempt contact with them. Then again, Hermione still feared that she herself would never feel completely safe ever again. Not after all she had seen. Twenty-five years ago, the Wizarding World had rejoiced in the fall of Tom Riddle. Nearly fourteen years later, he had returned. Hermione would allow herself to feel safe once another fourteen had passed. Six down, eight to go.
True, the relationship between her and her parents had been strained for years prior to what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts. The relationship between Muggle-borns and their parents was often one of "haves" and "have-nots", with the have-nots of the family growing envious of the abilities of their children. So much of her world was unknown to her parents; they would never be able to see Hogwarts, let alone visit, and many of her stories had gone completely over their heads. They had not known that she had been the target of a terrorist group since she was twelve years old. They didn't know that Transfiguration was more complex and difficult than Charms, or why ingredients mixed by them would fail to turn into a potion.
As time went by, Hermione had spent more and more time with the Weasleys and less and less time with the Grangers. Now that she regretted. What different life might she have had if not for magic? She knew that her relationship with her parents would have been closer without it. She couldn't decide if magic was worth the price sometimes.
I can't imagine she and her parents would have been that close in the end. If you notice in canon, she does spend more and more holidays either at school or with the Weasleys. That's not the mark of a healthy relationship.
She thought of Severus and all he had endured. She cried for her own selfishness in wanting to not love him; she would be his companion and his lover but love was still frightening. She cried for her own jealousy that she would always be second to a woman who had spent Hermione's entire life on a pedestal. When flesh and memory are compared, the memory always wins, and that was what Lily was now—a memory. It wasn't healthy to be in a relationship with someone like that, she knew that intellectually. She told herself as she cried that she was simply in too deep in this project (yes, call it a project) to back out without hurting a lot of people or betraying a lot of commitments. Severus had not trusted her easily or, really, willingly, and she would not betray that trust now. She considered it merely incidental that she felt more complete with him, both literally and figuratively, than ever before in her life.
Complicated feelings are complicated.
Hermione spent every other day of the year pushing these thoughts away. Tonight, a night she would have spent in the company of her own family rather than with eighteen other war orphans had the world been a little different, she allowed herself to drown in them.
Hermione is not an emotional person in canon, so she isn't here. I hate stories where she's constantly crying. She's not someone who is that emotional, really, in terms of being in touch with her feelings. Or, rather, she is, but is not an overtly emotional person. So she lets these feelings out only rarely, and of course only when no one is looking.
Severus found her curled up in a ball on the floor of the shower making noises he never wanted to hear from her. Anguish. Fear. Sadness. Despair. And on Christmas, too. In a flash he banished his clothing, knelt under the charmed rain, and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him.
Letting someone else see your anguish is, to me, the most intimate thing you can do. Far more intimate than sex.
He said nothing to her, knowing that she hid in the shower to avoid the world. He knew she wanted to be alone, but did not think she should be. So he held her, rocked her, planted kisses on her head, brushed errant strands of hair from her face. Each movement was an act of reverence for the woman who had turned his life upside-down in a very short period of time.
For a variety of reasons, Severus had built a wall around his heart over the past twenty-five years. The pain of losing Lily was too much, and the thought that anyone he allowed himself to love would be put in harm's way by being with him was enough to keep him from becoming even remotely involved with anyone else beyond a tiny handful of purely carnal encounters over the years (for he was only a man!). After the war, he was lost. Hermione kept telling him what an anchor he had been for the children, but really they had anchored him. They had given him a purpose and a focus and a goal. Severus thrived on achieving goals he had set for himself. By trying to help and heal them, he had been trying to help and heal himself.
Then Hermione Granger had blustered in and changed everything. He had resisted it. He had fought it. Now, as he looked at the sobbing woman in his arms, the only thought that crossed his mind was, Thank God she did.
The walls had begun to fall with her that night his Patronus had let her pass unfettered to comfort one of his terrified charges. Now there were almost none left. If she wanted to, she could break him completely. Not since Lily Evans had another person had such a hold on his life and his heart.
Hermione had avoided responding to him, merely allowing him to hold her without a fight. After a long while, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled in close to him as rain fell down them both. Sniffling, she looked up into the eyes of her lover, and saw in his eyes such compassion and empathy she nearly wept again. He made her feel so cared for, yet she knew that it would only ever go so far. He said nothing but bent down to kiss her gently on the lips, once, before pulling her into a tighter embrace.
"I miss them," she said finally, her voice hoarse. "Today I miss them."
"I know."
"Do you ever miss them?"
He sighed, closed his eyes, and nodded. "Today I do."
"I'm tempted to take you up on your offer," she whispered.
"Don't decide tonight," he whispered.
She shook her head. "No, I'm in a right state and would probably regret anything I said or did."
Yep.
"This from a Gryffindor—Christmas comes early for me this year," he said with a smirk.
"You're teaching me bad habits," she muttered.
"Teaching is ingrained in me, I'm afraid," he said. "Shall we?" She nodded. He extricated himself from her hold but, instead of standing up, wrapped his arms around her again and lifted her from the floor. Once he had her secured, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
It occurred to him that if, fourteen years earlier, someone had told him that he would one day share a shower with Hermione Granger in Sirius Black's family home on Christmas Eve with Harry Potter and fifteen children of Death Eaters downstairs, he would never have believed it. He would have fought hard against it, done everything in his power to avoid it.
What a fool he would have been.
I am SO ashamed to admit this, but this scene was not added until fairly far into the editing process. Don't ask me why.
He slipped out late without waking Hermione up. She knew where he would be. She had wanted to come. He had said no.
Donning his darkest coat, he slipped out the front door and Disapparated to Knockturn Alley, walked up to the ramshackle building, traced his wand in the correct pattern, and entered the brothel.
"Mr. Snape," greeted Madam Lyudmila. She placed a kiss on each cheek, and he responded with the same, a convincing smirk on his face. "I have them all ready for you."
"Just like last year?"
"Just like every year."
"Brilliant," he said, pressing a few coins in her hand. "For your trouble," he whispered.
"No trouble for you, Mr. Snape," she tut-tutted, gesturing for him to go up the stairs. "Never for you." It was quiet tonight, mostly empty. Men with families or significant others would find it difficult to slink away tonight, but some still managed. Severus Snape was not most men.
He had repeated this ritual every year, adding more girls to the list as he lost more of them to this horrible place. He reserved them all in advance, paying a premium to keep them "occupied" for the night, and visited each one in turn.
He reached the first room, finding Brigita Rosier inside. Her watery smile greeted him and she fell into his arms. He led her to the bed and sat next to her, holding her while she wept and clung to him.
Nobody should be alone on Christmas, least of all them.
Material possessions never stayed with them for long in this place, he had learned. Stolen by either customers or bouncers or Madam Lyudmila herself, it was pointless to give them anything. He could not even leave them healing potions without risking it. He could only give them two things tonight: attention and freedom. He bought each girl her freedom for the night, and spent it with her. They would cry, talk, or just sit there, doing nothing, happy to be doing nothing.
Each one was different, and he visited each one in turn, spending a good hour with each one. He regretted that it could not be more. Doing this as a group was not an option; they needed time alone with him, with his entire attention on them and them alone. Madam Lyudmila would only agree to six hours total. It was not enough, not nearly enough, but tonight it would have to be enough.
"I'm sorry," Brigita whispered to him.
"Not as sorry as I am," Severus whispered back. "I'm so sorry, Brigita."
"You tried. I wasn't strong enough."
"You shouldn't have had to be." He pulled her tighter against him as he felt her tears dampen his shirt. "I was supposed to keep you safe." He turned her in his arms and looked at her. "Brigita, if I could get you out of here, you know I would. Don't you? You know that, right?"
She nodded. "I do. I know you're doing everything you can."
He cringed at the resigned tone of her voice. No child this young should sound like that.
"We'll find a way," he murmured. It was Christmas. He could allow himself to dream tonight.
Flicking his wand, the sound of a distant chorus singing traditional carols hummed throughout the room.
"Happy Christmas, Brigita."
"Happy Christmas."
Five and a half hours later, and exhausted Severus Snape crept back into Grimmauld Place, stripped to nothing but his pants, and wrapped himself around his witch, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"How was it?"
He shook his head, nuzzling deeper into her neck. "I don't want to talk about it."
So sad.
On Christmas morning, they pretended he had not gone and merely picked up where they had left off the night before.
"Severus?"
"Hmm?"
"I've thought about it some more. My parents."
"And?"
"I… I can't do it."
This is a fake-out, since obviously she changes her mind (sort of) later on.
"Don't foreclose the idea for good."
"No, I… I think I have to," she said sadly. "It's been seven years since I altered their memories and identities. That is nearly a decade in a new life, as a new self. If I came to them, with you in tow, and undid that… wouldn't it be traumatic for them?"
"Well, if done properly—"
"And what of their minds?" Hermione pressed on. "They have decades' worth of false memories, and hidden away are decades' worth of true memories. If they are suddenly pulled together, wouldn't that harm them? Would their minds be able to handle that?"
"If done by a trained Legilimens—"
"And," Hermione continued, "wouldn't it be terribly selfish of me? Would they even want a relationship with me anymore? Their daughter giveth and taketh away their lives with the flick of a wand. She could do it again, couldn't she, if she were angry? She could do it just as easily with a malicious intent as with a benevolent one. And what else could she do to them?"
"Hermione…"
"You know I'm right, don't you? I know we could bring them back, but for their sake, I really don't know if we should."
Severus considered this. There were ways of retrieving long-lost memories, particularly in those whose identities had been altered. But Hermione did have a point—the longer one waited, the greater the risk of serious damage by doing so.
"Hermione… are you saying all of this because you truly are concerned for their well-being, or are you merely avoiding a potentially unpleasant confrontation?"
A little of column A, a little of column B.
She shook her head. "For many years, that was the reason, and you made me think long and hard about it. But… they have their life now, and I'm not in it. I waited too long and I think more harm than good would come of it. I regret it so… so much." Her voice began to waver. "It's a regret I will have to live with for the rest of my life."
"I know a thing or two about regret," Severus said softly. "I do not want to see you waste your life that way."
"I wouldn't either," she said sadly. "But… you know I'm right, don't you? You have no idea what it means to me that you would try to help, but… I think I owe it to them to give them peace and security. Though," she added, her voice more steady, "I would like to go see them. Someday, when my presence is not needed here as much, I will go to Australia and see them, with my own eyes. From a distance."
"Is that enough?"
She sighed. "It will have to be."
"Sometimes we have to live with, 'I did the best I could.'"
"The door is never closed on this, Hermione," Severus said. "Not ever. Even if you and I should… though I do not intend us to… but if we were to… I would still be at your service."
She pulled him into a deep kiss. "And that, Severus Snape, is why I love you."
I may have experienced something like this. May. I admit nothing.
She gasped and pulled away from him as soon as she had said it.
Love?
Love?
She froze.
Oooh! Cliffhanger.
He froze.