Unlike the cold sterility of the room at St. Mungo's, Hermione's bedroom was a serene oasis, the pale blue curtains moving languidly in the late morning breeze. I woke hungry and with a terrific need for a wee, grateful that she wasn't there to see my hasty, graceless hobble to the loo.
Upon re-entering the room, I saw that she had left me a plate of eggs, toast, and tea under stasis, along with a note that firmly instructed me to "TAKE YOUR MEDS OR ELSE- Nurse Ratched." She had drawn a little heart at the finish of the order, and I was pleased to note the resurgence in her cheek.
Complying dutifully, I went in search of my nursemaid, pleased that my coordination had improved. Unfortunately, my face had several new areas of burning, painful itchiness, indicating that the nerves were starting to function.
Oh, bless. Sensation!
Hermione was out in the garden, weeding a flower bed. She was wearing a ridiculously large-brimmed sunhat and a pair of shorts that did an excellent job of highlighting her better assets. I tried not to stare.
She straightened when she saw me, smiling warmly. "Back among the living, I see."
"If you say so. And yes, before you ask, I have eaten and taken my medicine."
"What a good little boy," she cooed mockingly. "Shall I give you a lollipop?"
"Use that tone again, and this good little boy will give you something rather more than a bloody lollipop," I retorted sharply, but the threat lacked any real heat. Granger laughed, not impressed.
"Oh, come over here, you grumpy sod, and help me plan out the next part of the garden. Did I tell you that Harry put us both on paid leave for the next month? I figured I might as well use the time to put in that potions garden I've always wanted-"
As I reached her, she slid a warm arm around my waist and leaned into my side companionably. My heart damn near stopped, and for a long second, I stopped hearing her babble.
What on earth is she thinking, force cuddling me like this? We don't cuddle! I mused, dazed at the bundle of sunshine under my arm. While it was true that I had opened the door by allowing her to fondle my person the day before, the action was still startling. In typical Granger fashion, she'd taken an inch and turned it into a mile.
It doesn't matter, a traitorous voice shot back. You won't be working together anymore, and friends do this sort of thing all the time...
Uhuh. Friends. Tell yourself another one, Severus Snape…
"-and so I was thinking about putting some of the nightshades in that corner. What do you think?"
I reined in my wildly careening thoughts, somehow spitting out a halfway decent response. "What's the PH in that area? You want something some more on the alkaline side…"
The panic on Severus' face when Hermione had put her arm around his waist had been priceless; her imp of the perverse had been stirred when he stumbled out of the cottage looking like a four-year-old just roused from a nap. She'd been giddy when he'd allowed the gesture, and knew that she had a genuinely idiotic smile plastered on her face.
Not that I care, she thought smugly, basking in the feeling of his long frame pressed against her side. While weeding the mums, Hermione had come to the decision that she was going to push Severus during this enforced idyll to see where their new boundaries lay. It might backfire terribly. Nimue knew that he'd never had a problem shooting her down before and was unlikely to hesitate again. But if it resulted in a positive change?
Then perhaps the terror of the last four days will have been worth it…
After ten minutes of conversation, she couldn't help but notice how rigid he'd become; seeing the tense lines of strain on his face, Hermione thought it was best to get him off his feet. Giving Severus an arch look, she pointed to the towering rowan tree.
"Why don't you go have a lie-down in the hammock? You can order me about from there."
Severus scowled but didn't argue. Muttering something about insufferable harridans, he stomped over the hammock, eyeing it dubiously. She turned slightly so that he had a bit of privacy while he climbed in, biting back another laugh at the way his feet and head poked out belligerently as he squirmed into a comfortable position.
He was asleep in less than five minutes. With a fond smile, Hermione picked up abroad leaf from the discard pile, enlarged it, and sent it to hover about Severus to block the worst of the sun.
Three hours later, Hermione was humming an ancient Spice Girls song—she later realised that it was 'Say You'll Be There'—when Severus' bellow startled her so severely she nearly fell face-first into the raised beds. Whirling about and bringing her wand up in one swift motion, she scanned the garden for the incoming threat.
"Granger!" Severus yelled again, and she was halfway across the lawn before the last syllable of her name had left Severus' lips.
"What?" she exclaimed shrilly, adrenaline rocketing through her body, the small details of the garden coming into sharp focus.
Hair falling over his face as he thrashed in the hammock, Severus growled, "How the hell do I get out of this infernal contraption?"
"What?" she repeated dumbly, coming to a stop just short of the rowan tree and belatedly realising that there was no danger.
"I need to use the loo," he admitted through clenched teeth. Twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks. Any other time she'd be charmed by his embarrassment, amused by his foul mood, but not this time; no, Hermione was wholly and suddenly furious at Severus' obliviousness to her needs. There had been no reason to yell like a stuck crup. He wasn't the only one in the house living on a last, frayed nerve…
Closing her eyes, Hermione slowly counted to ten, willing her temper to subside. It didn't work.
"Typically," she replied flatly, heart still racing. "I hit it with a charm to freeze it into place and then can roll out of it."
He wasn't cowed by her displeasure and snarled right back. "If you remember, I can't exactly do magic right now."
"I remember." With a sharp flick, she performed the charm and stepped back. Even with the aid of magic, it proved to be a problematic maneuverer for Severus. Once he was upright, Hermione turned and headed rapidly back to the raised beds, the press of hot, angry tears necessitating a swift escape.
Apparently, she hadn't been quick enough; Severus caught enough of her expression to belatedly realise that he'd royally put his foot into it. "Granger," he called, the thread of temper colouring his tone.
"Use the downstairs WC," she said tightly over her shoulder. "There's no point in climbing up the stairs if you don't have to."
His tall shadow fell over hers as he pulled her around to face him. "What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" she screamed, the tsunami of her emotions exploding out in a great gush. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Severus Snape? The best bloody Dark Arts wizard in the whole of Britain, and you can't even remember to use a sodding shielding charm when you're under attack?"
Leaning forward so that they were toe-to-toe, Hermione punctuated each word with a solid thunk to his chest. "When I finally managed to get that fucking wall off you, your heart had stopped. Stopped! You were dead! I had to shock you three goddamn times, and then there were rivers of blood pouring out of everywhere, and half your scalp was hanging off your head, and then you started choking…"
She was suddenly shaking uncontrollably, barely able to get the tirade out. "It was like the Shack all over again, and all because you couldn't be bothered to take care of yourself! You may not give a damn about your life, but I do!"
"Hermione…" he said shakily, looking stunned.
"Don't! Don't use that voice and my name against me like that!"
Vision narrowing to a narrow band, Hermione staggered, panic biting hard. Severus' arms yanked her into his chest, and she pulled back futilely, not wanting his succour. But she could only fight so much, and abruptly sagged into his embrace as all her suppressed sentiment came pouring out.
I could have lost him… oh, God, I could have lost him, too!
Several minutes passed before she was calm enough to be aware of her surroundings. Hermione was utterly drained, and she could feel Severus' deft fingers tracing a soothing pattern across her back. Picturing the movement in her mind, she realised that he was painting two runic symbols along the long line of her spine: Gebo, which signified a gift or partnership, and Wunjo, which carried the meaning of joy and light. The veiled sentiment made her want to cry all over again.
"It wasn't like that," he finally replied so softly that she had strain to hear him. "You are right. I'm not happy. But it wasn't… I didn't… it was carelessness, not anything else. I wasn't trying to get myself killed, Hermione, I promise."
"Good," she said with a sniff, shifting back to look up at him. "Because I could forgive you of anything but that."
It was the absolute wrong thing to say; in a flash, his face took on the blank, expressionless mask that she hated so much, arms dropping away. He moved back, putting distance between them. The garden seemed suddenly darker.
Ahhh, she thought, grief settling firmly on her shoulders. So here are the boundaries. No real difference, it appears.
"When was the last time you ate something?" he eventually asked, gaze travelling to the cottage.
"Breakfast."
"Do you have any food, or should I order takeaway?"
"The village allotment box arrived this morning, so there is plenty of fresh veg." She sighed, leaning against the edge of the raised bed.
"Coconut milk? Red curry paste?"
"In the pantry."
He gave her a sharp nod, moving further away. "I'll make curry."
"Fine. I would appreciate it." It was Hermione's favourite meal, and she supposed that it was as close to an apology as she was going to get. I do wish that I could be happy with what I have, rather than hoping for the impossible…
But Severus did surprise her then, reaching out and brushing her cheek in a motion that managed to be both incongruously gentle and brusque all at once.
"You turned the dirt on your face intomud," he explained tersely, wiping the other side. Without waiting for Hermione's reply, he turned and billowed to garden doors.
I was just pouring the veg into the curry base when Lily spoke from her perch on the kitchen table.
"You shouldn't get used to this," she drawled, tossing her coxcomb red hair over her shoulder. "In what, three, four days, she'll kick you out on your bum, and then where will you be?"
"Islington."
"Hah-bloody-hah." Her voice dropped, concern shining through. "I mean it, Sev. This perfect little cottage life isn't for you."
"Bugger off," I shot back, her words finding lamentable purchase in the vast landscape of my doubts.
"She isn't going to forgive you."
I turned then, facing the ghost of a girl that I had once loved and killed. Reckoned with my own fears. "She might."
"She won't," Lily argued gently. "She cares, I'll grant you that. But she cares about you in the same way that she cares for Harry, for her children… there isn't anything more than that. You made damned sure of that seven years ago."
Hopping off the table top, she advanced like a lioness on the hunt. "Seven years ago, you lashed out just like you always do and said the unforgivable. Burned a bridge. And now you nearly got yourself killed. Another unforgivable."
The recollection of Hermione's tear-stained face returned to me then, caught in the wild, raw grief as she screamed at me for being such a daft idiot in the middle of her garden. There had been such a vulnerability in her expression. A truth.
Turning away, I clutched at the lip of the sink. There was a whiff of hope, and I could not let it be taken from me. Not and survive whole. "She said she could forgive me," I repeated stubbornly.
"I couldn't." I felt the warmth of Lily's breath on my ear. "And I loved you."
The pain of hearing those words was far worse than a thousand lashings; gaining Lily's love while she'd lived had been my Everest; being granted her forgiveness after her death was my Sisyphean endeavour. I had failed at both.
But Hermione wasn't Lily. In a thousand different ways, she had proved herself different. Her love was kind. It was patient and did not demand. If Hermione's love hurt me, it was entirely due to my own actions, not hers; eight years of being partners and friends had proven that.
"Did you really love me? I'm not so sure anymore." The question slipped out my mouth before I could stop it, and I heard Lily hiss as the barb struck home.
"How dare you!"
Standing in a sunny, cheerful kitchen, I felt like my life was hanging in the balance. If I lost Hermione's friendship, it honestly would be the end of the road for me. At the same time, I couldn't step back into our old patterns. But the thought of trying to find a way forward, of asking Hermione for the impossible, made me want to flee like a beast into the wild. No one had truly forgiven me before; not Lily, who had refused to even hear my apologies, and certainly not Albus, who had promised me only a chance at atonement. And then there were the countless others who I could not ask for forgiveness, like Charity...
The memory of Hermione's touch—and it was a treasured memory, not merely a ghostly fantasy—skated across my body. Just yesterday, she'd held me tenderly in her arms when I'd been sick, not a single word of reproach crossing her lips at my reckless haste to be gone from St. Mungo's. This morning, I'd repaid her by scaring her half to death, and she'd still been worried about my sorry hide.
"I dare," I whispered, fear making my throat go tight. "I'm fucking terrified, but for once in my life, I'm going to dare."
Lily laughed disdainfully, the sound entirely too harsh for the warmth of Hermione's cottage. "Yet another mistake. Who would want you, Sev? Really want you, and not just what you could do for them?"
There was no time to answer. With a rattle, the garden door swung open, bring the green scents of the garden into the spice of the kitchen. Lily was suddenly gone, and only Hermione remained.
"That smells wonderful," Hermione said, the whiff of something brittle undermining her calm expression. I could not help but notice that as she moved through the room, she had returned to our usual practice of keeping a careful buffer of space between us. It hurt, especially when I knew that she wasn't trying to punish me, only protect herself.
"I'm glad you think so." With a flick, I turned off the gas and gave the curry a last stir. It would be now or never. Taking a final breath for courage, I turned to face Hermione completely. "Did you mean it when you said that you could forgive me of almost anything?"
She stilled, caution deepening the brown of her eyes. "Yes."
I stepped forward until the gulf between us had narrowed. Reached out. "Hermione, would you forgive me for what I said to you seven years ago?"
A/N~ It's a bit of an evil cliffe, I know. While I am not sorry about leaving you hanging, I do promis to update again shortly, and in the meantime, you all can take guesses as to what it was that Severus said that was so terrible ;)
As always, my thanks to everyone who fav'd, followed, and read this story, and a special thanks to Ali Sara Card, pgoodrichboggs, Kailin, houstonclay, Fragilereality, reneelovessnape, teosinte, Padme.G, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, villafoo, Veneficus, Nachtwens, Bananniejones, kaddiekat, Ardentlyadmired and several guests for taking the time to comment.
