One Day at a Time
Oakwood Memorial Park
No, I can't be in love with Severus, I thought to myself, and I started frantically pacing my room. Not Severus. Severus the condescending git, Severus who bullies students for no reason, I tried to convince myself that I did not like that man, but part of my mind unwillingly added, Severus who has a good side, but just doesn't broadcast it. I heard a knock at my door and, wondering who it was, swung the painting open. I just about jumped through the roof when I saw who was standing there. Almost as if I had been thinking too loudly, there stood Severus Snape. "H-Hello!" I nervously exclaimed, my voice about an octave higher than normal.
Either he didn't notice my odd behavior, or he pretended not to notice. He held out a cup filled with a transparent green liquid and said "I brought your potion."
"Oh, uh, thank you," the words stumbled out of my mouth. Right, he was still giving me the potion twice a day. That's why he was here. Not because my thoughts had been too loud. Duh.
"I think that his may be able to be the last dose," he drawled while I drank the potion. "I'd have to inspect the scorch marks." I sat down, and he pulled my robes up to just below my knee, casting some sort of identification spell where my skin had been burned. "There aren't any marks left. Congratulations, you're healed," he said in his standard mildly sarcastic voice.
He started leaving, when I suddenly blurt out "Thank you! For—for everything I mean."
Sev paused, frowned slightly, and then with a neutral sound of acknowledgment nodded his head very slightly. He left without saying anything further, and I took to pacing my room again, determined that I wouldn't do something as foolish as letting him discover my feelings for him—I knew he wouldn't reciprocate them.
The rest of the first week passed smoothly, excluding my heart leaping into my esophagus every time I saw Severus. The Saturday at the end of said week was a cold, grey, dreary day, and I spent most of my morning looking distractedly out the window. With the bleak view and lack of sunlight it almost seemed as though a grey cloak had been thrown across the landscape. Almost as though that grey clock consisted of Dementors, my mind started drifting to my less pleasant memories and my regrets. One of the most recent ones was only a few days ago. Tarazet's disbelieving voice as he said "You still haven't made peace with Mother and Father?" had stuck with me. I had intentionally decided to not go to their funeral. I had not wanted to see all of their precious pureblood friends giving long speeches about what wonderful people my parents were. I had been happy to have not seen Mother and Father for quite a length of time prior to their deaths, and I had seen no reason to break that streak.
But Tarazet's words had struck a chord in my conscience. Damn it, Tarazet, I thought again, Why do you always have to make me feel responsible for doing the right thing? There were many times when we disagreed what the right thing was, but now was one of the times when I felt myself grudgingly in agreement with him. I continued to stare gloomily out the window, before it suddenly struck me what I could do. After a moment of indecisiveness, I stood up from my seat and started slowly walking. I had just reached the main entrance to Hogwarts when I heard Severus's familiar voice say in a slightly hostile tone, "Where are you going, Liseli?"
"What's it to you?" I asked suspiciously, my tone still coming through as slightly depressed.
"You think it's wise to leave Hogwarts by yourself when you were just attacked by your two older brothers?" He almost said it as though he doubted my decision making skills.
"Hogwarts is not a prison," I said bitterly, "I can leave any time I like."
He pursed his lips before replying "Fine. I'm coming with you."
"What, you don't think I can defend myself?" I said, my eyes flashing threateningly.
"I think you can defend yourself fine," he replied coolly. "But two wands are always better than one."
I relented. "Fine."
We started to walk towards the Forbidden Forest, where the Hogwarts' anti-apparition charm ended. "So where are we going?" Severus asked in a completely neutral tone, as though it was all equal to him.
"I'm going to make peace with my parents," I replied shortly.
"Oh? Am I intruding on a family affair?" He replied ironically, clearly not intending to change his plan of accompanying me.
"They're both dead, so not particularly," I articulated lightly. "If they weren't dead I doubt I'd be able to make peace with them."
After apparating we appeared on a dirt path next to a poorly paved road. The area was deserted, and across the road there was a large graveyard encircled with a rusty black fence. I had never visited my parents' graves before, but I knew they were buried in this cemetery, the same one my grandparents were buried in. It was about a dozen kilometers from our house when I was growing up, and we had visited it as a family multiple times.
At the entrance there was a very small brick building, which we walked into, and inside that building was a single long counter. A man in Muggle clothes (black slacks, a black jacket and a white button-down shirt) had his feet up on the counter and was casually reading a magazine. Upon seeing us he abruptly took his feet off the counter, threw down the magazine and tried to say in a well-composed, respectful voice, "Good day, and welcome to Oakwood Memorial Park. How may I help you?"
"Could you tell me where Braxton and Wilhelmina Colburn are buried?" I asked, torn whether to be amused or annoyed at his unprofessional behavior.
"Yes ma'am," the Muggle replied, and started flipping through a stack of notecards in front of him. "I'll escort you. Nice, uh, dress," he added, eyeing Severus's robes. The wizard narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. After a short walk, the Muggle stated "Here they are," gestured to two headstones, and left.
"I didn't know your parents were Muggles," Severus said in a mildly surprised tone.
"They're not," I snapped, suddenly remembering that he was a pureblood.
"Nothing wrong with Muggle parents," he replied smoothly, and I felt a rush of relief, my heart softening towards the man standing next to me. Finally, somebody with their head screwed on right.
"They're purebloods, but they couldn't afford to be buried in an all-wizard cemetery," I stated gently. I knelt and brushed the frost off one of the headstone until I could see the words "Wilhelmina Hitchens Colburn" clearly.
I sighed. My mother. I had always hated her. She was traditional, very traditional. She thought that the life purpose of girls (she always called them that, they were never women) was to give birth to and raise large numbers of pureblood children. Girls themselves were useless; they didn't exist outside of their relationships to others. Growing up, she had treated me as such, only with an extra dose of resentment. She had given birth to four boys, boys who would become men and be successful. Then I had come along and broken her streak of contributing to the world, as she saw it.
As I sat kneeling on the cold packed dirt in front of her grave marker, I searched my mind for her good attributes. I felt like I was looking at a blank slate, where under "Good attributes" there was had let me go outside and play with my brothers sometimes, at least. Tarazet always had to argue with her on my behalf, but she had relented a fair number of times. To someone as traditional as her, who believed that girls ought to sit still and do quiet activities while looking pretty, that must have been quite difficult. I was still bitter about her expectations that I ought to dedicate my whole life to marriage and child raising, though. I tried to think of some positive attribute, some justification on her part that might make her sentiments and actions forgivable, but the only explanation that came to mind was "It's not her fault; she was raised that way. She thought she was following the best course of action, the only course of action." I silently thought this explanation to myself, and decided it would be the closest I could come to reaching a peace with her.
I turned my attention to my father's headstone. I didn't hate him quite as much as my mother, simply because he hadn't been around as much when I was growing up. My mother had raised us full time (because of course women weren't supposed to have jobs), while my father spent most of his time at work. He had shared my mother's traditional beliefs, combined with a favoritism of the older children. Seginus, a first-born son like himself, was by far his favorite. Me, the youngest and a girl, was by far his least favorite. To him, just as to my mother, I was always just a disappointment, someone who would never be good enough for them, no matter what I did.
As I was thinking these thoughts, I noticed a few white specks floating in front of me. I looked up into the dark grey clouds overhead and saw more pieces of snow falling endlessly from the heavens. Behind me, Sev give a slight shiver from the cold, but he didn't say anything. I searched my mind for a long time for my father's positive attributes but, like my mother, I was unable to think of any through the haze of bitterness I felt towards him. Finally I settled on the same pardon I had given my mother: it wasn't his fault, he was just raised that way. That explanation seemed hollow to me, but it was the only one I could find.
It was still snowing by the time I finished my thoughts, and now the grey landscape was covered with a silent, clean blanket of white. I stood up and turned around to see Sev still there, his black hair speckled with small white pieces of snow. "Are you done making peace with them?" he said politely.
"Closest I'm going to get," I said softly and shrugged my shoulders. With another crack! we were back at the boundary of the Forbidden Forest. After a moment of walking, I decided to express one of my thoughts. "I wonder—" I started, but cut myself off.
After a moment, in which I didn't continue my thought, Severus replied "Wonder what?"
I struggled with how to phrase my thoughts, before I continued, "I wonder how much we're responsible for our actions."
"What do you mean?" he turned and looked at me with a wondering look on his face.
"I wonder how much we're a product of our environment, and how much we're a product of—of something else. I don't know what." I said, my mind still drifting back to my parents.
Sev didn't say anything, and there was no sound except the sound of our footsteps. I almost wondered if he had actually heard me, but when we had almost reached the front of Hogwarts he opened his mouth and thoughtfully replied: "I don't know."
That afternoon I decided to pay my first visit to Hagrid's hut in a while. I went a bit earlier in the day than I normally did, though, and I was surprised to see Hagrid standing out front with a flock of creatures that looked like the winged skeletons of horses. Upon approaching closer, it seemed as though he was feeding them with Harry's help, while Ron and Hermione stood nearby with their hands in their pockets.
"Hullo, Hagrid," I greeted the immense man. "Need any help?"
He looked at me with slightly raised eyebrows and replied, "Sure, if you can."
" 'Course I'll help," I replied, grabbing a slab of meat and holding it up to the black, horse-like creature's mouth. "Funny looking animal," I said conversationally to Ron and Hermione who were looking somewhat bored.
"I'm sure they are," Hermione replied lightly.
"We can't see them," Ron blurted out.
I started laughing. "What do you mean you can't see them? They're standing there, clear as day."
"Not everybody can see Thestrals," Hagrid shrugged his shoulders.
My mouth silently made the shape of an "O." I had read about Thestrals, even if I had never seen them before, and I knew that only those who had seen somebody die could see them. My mind raced to come up with an explanation to tell them for why I could see Thestrals. "They pull the carriages up to Hogwarts, don't they?" I started in a would-be conversational tone.
"They sure do," Hagrid replied, heartily patting the one he was currently feeding.
"I remember hearing that, but I couldn't see them when I was a student," I started, as the Thestral in front of me grabbed the piece of meat I was holding and noisily started munching. "My mother only died a few years ago."
"I'm sorry," Hagrid gave me a sorrowful look.
I shrugged my shoulders. "It's unfortunate but not completely unexpected. Dragon Pox has fairly high mortality rates." Judging by all of their reactions, they seemed to have bought my implied explanation that it was my mother I had seen pass away. Slightly more relaxed, I continued feeding the Thestrals.
"Not many people can see Thestrals while they're at Hogwarts," Harry quietly contributed his first words to the conversation, as he pet one such creature. The grey blanket I had noticed over the land earlier today, the one which seemed to have an effect equal to that of Dementors' presences, seemed to have returned, and our conversation quietly withered into a depressed silence.
The school week started again, and with it the older students handed in the five page essays I had assigned them earlier. If only I could give them long assignments without having to grade them all, I thought with a sigh as I took a seat in the professors' lounge. Sev was already in the room and he, likewise, had a large stack of essays by him. He was hunched over the desk and his hook nose was practically touching the paper in front of him. I had to keep myself from laughing when I noticed the size difference between the bottle of red ink I had brought with me and that which he had by his side; his must have been more than five times larger than mine and it was, additionally, practically empty. Somehow I have a feeling he didn't use all of that ink for complimenting the students' writing style, I thought as I made my first swipe of red on the student's essay in front of me."So how have classes been?" I ventured. He didn't respond to my brave attempt at a conversation so I added, "Sev?"
He jerked his head in my direction. "What? These students are such imbeciles. They wouldn't know the difference between a Babbling Brew and a Confounding Concoction if they had the list of ingredients in front of them," he mumbled, writing a comment on the student's essay in front of him.
"So do are we grading different imbeciles or the same imbeciles? Because one of my students just spent a page describing a stunning spell and then listed the incantation as Protego," I gave him an amused smile. All of his attention seemed to be focused on the potions essay in front of him, though, for he didn't reply, which only left me the option of silently continuing grading. I spent the next two hour hacking my way through the forest of poorly written and mediocre essays, with the occasional clearing of a well-written one. It seemed as though most of my students hadn't taken the essay seriously, which was rather frustrating, and I found that I completely drained my bottle of red ink. I glanced up at Severus, who had refilled his monstrously large bottle of red ink since I had taken a seat, and noticed that he seemed to be near the end of the stack of his essays. "I suppose I can't borrow any of your ink, because you're going to need it all for the last few papers?" I asked with a hint of playful sarcasm.
He looked up from the desk and replied in a serious tone of voice, "Yes. Exactly."
Is that supposed to be so serious that it's sarcastic? I wondered over his inscrutable sentences and with a sigh decided it'd be simpler to just fetch more red ink from my quarters. On an impulse I also grabbed a deck of cards, with the vague notion that maybe I'd ask him if he wanted to play a round of cards. After another half hour I finally acted on the impulse and blurt out in a would-be casual tone, "I was planning to take a little break and play a game of Exploding Snap. Do you want to join?"
For a moment he didn't respond, but instead muttered something to himself as he wrote a long-winded comment on another student's paper. "I would prefer to finish grading these." Without looking up, he gestured towards the remaining stack of papers.
"Suit yourself." I didn't actually like Exploding Snap enough to play with the cards solo, but my stubbornness insisted that I followed through on my previous implication that I was going to play whether he did or not. So, I took out the deck of cards and carefully started forming a pyramid out of them.
"You're doing that here?" Sev momentarily glanced up.
"Yup," I replied, slowly building the card pyramid higher and higher. I seemed to be having an amazing run of luck, for none of the cards had yet exploded and collapsed the pyramid. It was reaching over two feet tall, now, and Sev was continuously watching the cards; he seemed to be amazed as I was that no card had yet exploded. I carefully took two more cards and started to gently set their edges against each other on top of the pyramid. Suddenly, though, there was a pain in my left arm and my arm gave an involuntary jerk, one which was just enough to completely collapse the card tower. "Dang," I unenthusiastically exclaimed.
I noticed that Sev's eyes were not on the remains of the pyramid, nor back on the paper in front of him, but instead firmly resting on my left arm. In a mock innocent voice he asked, "Does your right arm also have random spasms in the evening or is it just your left?"
I frowned and decided to focus my attention on cleaning up the mess of cards in front of me. "That was an accident. I'm amazed my reflexes were good enough to get it that tall in the first place."
"Well?" he asked in the same generic cool tone of voice he often used.
"'Well' what?" I continued organizing the fallen cards.
"Don't you have somewhere to go?" His hand still held the red grading quill, but not a speck of his attention was focused on the essay in front of him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I attempted to say with a steady voice. He gave me a disbelieving look, his eyes intently focused on my face. I swear he wasn't even blinking, and he made no movement to tear his scrutinizing gaze away. The burning feeling on my left forearm was steadily increasing, though, and for lack of a more subtle method of leaving I blurt out, "I don't have to work in such a hostile environment." With a last angry glare at him, I raced from the room.
…
A/N: Couple of things. First, the discrepancy between Liseli saying she hadn't seen her parents for a long time before they died, and her implying that she saw her mother die is intentional.
Secondly, I rewrote the prologue again. The gist is the same, so you don't have to re-read it if you don't want to, but this chapter is mentioned in it.
Thirdly, thanks so much to xXClearSakuraxX, Mywaychan, PollyWantCookie, argyle owl, and Leslie for reviewing!