Title: Blue October, Volume One – Chapter Thirty-Three.
Author: Woodland Goddess.
Rated: M
Author's Notes: Writing this chapter hurt in places. I just feel so bad for Severus and the Evans and Mr Hemmingway. There'll be more feels in the next chapter, too...
Chapter Thirty-Three: Risk Assessment
The dull light of early morning filtered in through the gap in the curtains, bringing with it the chill. Severus woke almost before the first tremble raced down his spine, curling his body up, sending an ache through his arm. Jaw clenched against the wave of pain, he rubbed his left forearm with vigour. Though the heat generated by the friction eased the ache, the movements tired out the underused muscles in his good arm. A gust of breath pushed its way past his jaw, the air ruffling his blanket.
The house was relatively quiet; Eileen and Tobias were still asleep, the sounds of their slumber reaching him in the lessening darkness. His own breathing seemed too loud in the stillness. Today was the day Mr Evans would bury his sister, the day Lily would utter one last goodbye to her aunt. His mother had forbidden him to attend, but Severus had no intention of obeying her edicts. If he was unable to be there when Lily needed him most, what good was their friendship in the first place?
No. Severus would be there and if she wished to hold his hand or bury herself in his arms, then he would suffer through it for her sake. She would do the same for him; he knew that very well. Face tight with determination, he threw back the blanket and carefully sat up, willing the springs in his bed not to betray him. He slowly eased out of bed, holding his breath as he did so, pausing for a long moment. A shiver ran down his spine, through his limbs; goose bumps followed in its wake.
On silent feet he crept across his bedroom, finding one of his more decent sets of clothing in the wardrobe after a moment of hushed rummaging. It was one of the outfits Mr Evans had bought for him; it was warm and snug and sombre in colour. Just what the occasion called for. He dressed in silence, a frown tugging at his mouth, knitting his eyebrows together in a line that seemed almost stern. As soon as he located his winter outerwear, Severus fetched his wand, slipping it in to his pocket.
After combing his hair, ready to face the world and any obstacles that got in his way, Severus slipped out of his bedroom and slunk through the house, avoiding every patch of wood that creaked with practised ease. Opening the front door, he stepped out in to the morning chill. It bit at his cheeks and nose, flushing them red. Eyelashes grazing his cheeks as he closed his eyes, the young Wizard focused his mind. He allowed an image of Berkeley Square to fill his mind, letting it fill every fibre of his consciousness.
With his destination fixed firmly in his mind, Severus turned with determination. A tingle of Magic shot through him, quickly followed by the familiar squeeze of apparition. He disappeared with a crack, appearing in Berkeley Square a moment later. Lingering by the thick trunk of a tree, he glanced around, searching for possible observers. A curtain in one of the topmost windows of Hemmingway House shifted, revealing a sliver of blond hair and lips parted in a gasp for the briefest moment.
Surprisingly, no other movements were detected by his sharp gaze. Severus stepped away from the tree trunk and crossed the grass, ice crunching under his shoes. He hurried across the road towards Hemmingway House. The front door opened before he reached the steps; Mr Evans, clad in his green pyjamas and a dressing gown, stood in the doorway. Shocked eyes stared at him from within a pale face, exhaustion etched in every wrinkle at the corners of his mouth, of his eyes.
"Severus," he breathed in disbelief, his breath misting in the air in front of him. Frozen on the footpath, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, the young Wizard in question gazed up at Mr Evans, his own face alive with concern and trepidation and hesitancy. It was possible the Evans family would not want him around, but he hoped that was not the case. Green eyes quivered in their sockets; Mr Evans blinked repeatedly and swallowed thickly. "What are you doing here? Where's your mother?"
Dark eyes fell instantly, gaze burning holes through the frozen ground at his feet. Mr Evans sucked in a sharp breath as the truth of the situation made itself apparent in Severus' silence. Shoulders hunching slightly, Severus chanced a glance in the man's direction. Leaving the door open, the chill invading the Manor House, Mr Evans descended the steps. He hardly seemed to notice the crush of frost, the press of painful cold against his bare feet. Moving forward to shorten the distance, Severus met him at the bottom step.
"I couldn't stay away," the boy whispered, the words too loud in the morning air. "Lily needs me." Obsidian eyes locked with expressive green ones as Severus craned his neck. He hoped the man understood what he meant to say, but had no idea how. A tired mouth twitched with the barest hint of a smile. Arms reached out for him, tugged him close; their embrace was short but warm, keeping the pain of loss and the touch of cold at bay for a suspended moment. A hand rested against his raven locks, warm and heavy.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut, forehead pressing against Mr Evans' abdomen. Absentmindedly, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be loved, to be appreciated by one's father. For so long he had envied Lily, had envied her relationship with Mr Evans. He lived for those rare moments Mr Evans bestowed such affections on him, as if Severus were his son, as if he were family, as if there had never been anything for him to envy in the first place. But soon the warmth came to an end as Mr Evans was finally forced to acknowledge the cold seeping in to his bones through his skin.
Grimacing, the man hopped from one foot to the other for a moment. Beckoning for Severus to come, the man hastily mounted the steps towards the door. The young Wizard followed after him, slipping inside the house with a grateful sigh. On silent hinges the door swung shut in his wake, locking the cold outside. The pair of them took a moment to scuff their feet and shoes over the welcome mat. Mr Evans shivered, the tremors racing down his arms and legs, bringing goose bumps with them.
A twinge of guilt tightened Severus' abdomen; the man had been out in the cold because of him. "Come on, then," said Mr Evans as he headed for the kitchen and dining room, voice warm and soft and welcoming despite the surprise Severus had given him. Unsure what he planned to do, Severus followed him and took a seat at the table, relieving himself of his coat and other outerwear. A kettle was filled with water, set to boil. The soft sound of the kettle heating was the only noise in the kitchen as Mr Evans wearily seated himself at the table opposite him.
Green eyes, shimmering in the harsh artificial light, studied him. Lips pressed in to a thin line as Mr Evans shook his head minutely, eyes drifting closed for a moment. "I don't know whether to be happy you're here or disappointed in you for running out on your mother, as she clearly must have forbidden you from coming down here." He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "With good reason, I might add, young man. You really know how to cause a person to suffer a conflict of interest."
The kettle boiled, the loud noise summoning Mr Evans from his chair. Severus watched intently as he retrieved two deep mugs, a spoon, a bottle of milk and a container of cocoa powder. Hands moved with practised ease as they poured and spooned and stirred, concocting two steaming mugs of hot chocolate to warm them and provide what comfort it could. The scent of it permeated the room, assailing his senses; Severus licked his lips in anticipation. A cup was placed before him and Mr Evans paused by his side long enough to touch his shoulder lightly before departing for the other side of the table.
Silence blanketed the room, soft and unhurried, as both of them took a moment to feel the warm ceramic against their cold hands, feel the heat spread through their skin, chasing away the lingering chill. Severus carefully lifted his mug and took a small sip, eyes drifting closed as he sighed at the flavour, the warmth, the heady scent that threatened to overwhelm him. "I appreciate what you've done," Mr Evans eventually uttered, tone warm but gently scolding, underlined with a hint of concern, "but I don't want you to do it again; anything could have happened to you."
A dark gaze flicked upwards, glittering with quiet defiance and a sliver of wonder as Mr Evans gazed across at him. Blond eyebrows knitted together in a slight frown as green eyes swam with an overabundance of sentiment. "What if I hadn't been awake? What if I hadn't heard you arrive? What if I hadn't remembered what that cracking noise meant? There are too many questions, too many scenarios in which you could have been hurt or worse." The man released a soft breath and for a moment those green eyes abandoned Severus' face, but they returned soon after, just as intense.
"When your mother tells you not to do something, I expect you to obey. You're young, yet; there is plenty of time for you to be rebellious. Right now you need to concentrate on giving your mother as few reasons to worry and stress over as possible." Mr Evans sipped his hot chocolate, adam's apple bobbing noticeably. "The world is a dangerous place – more dangerous than I initially realised, given the world hidden away from this one. Surely, you know that?"
Severus frowned. "Of course I know that; I'm not a fool." Blond eyebrows threatened to vanish in to Mr Evans' hairline. The boy flushed scarlet and averted his gaze. "I simply felt the occasion was worth the risk."
"Simply," muttered Mr Evans, "right." A soft laugh escaped him. "You're a cheeky one, you are." The man sounded almost fond. Severus was uncertain how to respond; he settled for sipping his hot chocolate, squeezing the cup a little tighter between his hands. Running a tired hand down his face, Mr Evans peered through his fingers at him. "Once you're done I want you to call your mother and tell her where you are and who you're with, understand?"
"That...won't be possible," Severus answered, hesitantly glancing in his direction. "We don't have a telephone. People like me use owls to carry our missives. The Floo Network is another method of communicating over long distances; that's where you throw Floo Powder in the fireplace, call out the address and stick your head in the flames. I've heard it's very uncomfortable and plays havoc with your knees."
Mr Evans looked faintly green at the idea. "Well, do that, then."
"I can't. Firstly, this is a Muggle household – there is no Floo connection. Secondly, I don't have any Floo Powder. I don't own an owl." Severus shook his head and sipped his hot chocolate, savouring the warmth and flavour. "So, you'll have to suffer my abominable presence until you cast me out." Green eyes met obsidian; both of them knew Mr Evans was not going to turn him away. A steaming mug hid the man's kind smile as he took a large swallow of his heated beverage. A tentative smile pulled at Severus' lips in return.
"Where do you buy owls?"
Severus pounced on the opportunity to talk about the Wizarding World. For a time Mr Evans forgot what day it was, what he had lost in the days leading up to that moment. Like his daughter, the man was filled to bursting with eagerness, with wonder at the possibilities held within that secret world that lay so close and yet so far out of his reach. More than anything, Severus wished he could take Mr Evans' hand and lead him into that world; show him the spell books and the broomsticks and everything he could possibly imagine. In a world without fear perhaps he could have done so.
No such world existed; it never would.
In time Hemmingway House began to awaken. The kitchen fell silent, the discussion forgotten. Severus downed the cooling dregs of his chocolate in one swallow. Footsteps sounded overhead, slow and unhurried, almost reluctant. When the kitchen door opened, revealing a tangled mane of crimson hair, he felt something in his chest tighten. Tired eyes blinked in confusion. "Sev'rus?" Lily mumbled groggily, questioningly, a hand rubbing her face. In moments she was wide awake, staring at him.
Green eyes quivered and, quite suddenly, the girl was crying. Severus blanched, unprepared for the collision as she rushed to him; the force of the impact almost knocked him off his chair. Arms wrapped around his neck, his shoulders, trembling hands gripping with desperation. His own tentative arms slipped around Lily in return, one hand rubbing in soothing circles. The embrace was warm and loving as the girl wept, her face buried in his bony shoulder. He gave Mr Evans a helpless, beseeching look but the man merely shook his head, the ghost of his grief lingering beneath the surface.
When the others came downstairs, in drips and drabs, their surprise was evident. None of them brought the matter to question as they eyed the way Lily clung to him, her tears having eventually eased back to choked sniffles. The girl gradually drew back, her hand rubbing aggressively at her face. "Are you hungry?" she asked quietly, voice slightly raspy, her bottom lip trembling. Severus hesitated for a moment but then answered with a nod of confirmation. "Give me a hand, then."
Lily tugged on his hand and he rose from the chair without hesitation, following her over to the cupboards. Severus fetched the bowls and spoons while she retrieved the box of cornflakes, a container of sugar and the milk. The six of them sat at the table during breakfast, though Mr Hemmingway looked too ill to eat much of anything. Mr Evans sat with him, his warmth like a blanket, quietly encouraging him, his hand gently brushing the man's arm. The shadows in Mr Hemmingway's eyes were too ghastly to look upon for too long.
Seated between the Evans girls, Severus had no idea how the man endured it. How could Mr Hemmingway lose his wife, his everything...and still remain breathing in her wake? It was precisely why he hoped he would never fall prey to love; it would cripple him in ways he could scarcely imagine. He focused on his bowl of cornflakes, pushing such thoughts out of his mind as he did so. The crunch was almost soothing as he ate, chasing away the dull, sympathetic ache that had settled upon his heart.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, broken only by the scrape of spoons against bowls and quiet chewing. Lily's presence at Severus' side was distant, hardly carrying any warmth as she gazed miserably down at her bowl, but that was no surprise. When her hand shook, momentarily dropping to her lap, gripping her nightgown tightly, Severus discreetly reached out. His hand found hers, wrapping around it, easing it away from the tormented fabric. His fingers interlocked with hers, squeezing gently. Her hand trembled within his but that was fine.
That was perfectly alright.
Expected.
Eventually the meal drew to a close and the others began drifting back out of the kitchen and dining room, heading upstairs to get ready for the service. Lily lingered, her chest heaving as she struggled with the emotions roiling inside her. Frightened, pain-filled green eyes lit upon Severus' face, pleading. "Stay with me?" He reached out and brushed a tangle of crimson hair out of her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. Always, Severus thought, the word warm and soft in his mind, but carrying the weight of promise. Dark eyes burning with that promise, he nodded.
Lily closed her eyes and her face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks in fresh streams. She ran her free hand across her face and choked back a sob. Severus offered no words to alleviate her pain; there was nothing that would. Instead, he rose from his chair and embraced her tightly, ignoring the awkwardness he felt in favour of holding her. Soon Lily managed to find strength enough to withdraw, to rise from her chair, her hand still locked with his. The girl led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking him in to her guest room.
He sat quietly in the chair by the fireplace, wringing his hands, staring at the rug; his cheeks flushed scarlet as his friend got dressed for the funeral. Really, Lily had no sense of propriety. Severus was just glad he knew better than to look; not that he was even the slightest bit curious, anyway. Girls were not that interesting...unless they were willing to have lengthy discussions about intellectual subjects. When she was dressed, Lily ran a brush through her hair and slowly braided it, though a few short tendrils escaped to brush against the pale skin of her neck.
Though her face was haunted by her pain, her eyes dark with loss, Lily Evans was beautiful in her grief and Severus felt like a monster for thinking so. A pale hand reached out towards him, fingers splayed in offering. Without a word, Severus took her hand and rose from the chair. Together, the two of them descended through the house, the dark-haired boy like a bar of chocolate in the wake of a Dementor...
To Be Continued.
Aw, Sev; why are you so sweet as a kid? *sadness*
Feel free to let me know what you think, guys.