Chapter 7: Anger Flows Like Water
'Why does Father hurt you, Mother?' Six-year-old Severus asked his Mother.
Mother was applying a salve on her bruised neck and cheeks. 'Because that's how he is.'
Severus could not understand what that meant. 'Why is he like that?'
'Because this is my place, Severus.' Mother replied.
'No, it's not,' Severus retorted.
Mother looked at him with deep sadness. The bruises on her face, blue and black, frightened the small boy. 'Do they hurt?' He whispered.
'It stops hurting after a while,' Mother said simply.
UUUUUUUU
'Is that what you wore for your wedding?' Six-year-old Hermione asked her Mummy. The beautiful white dress had pearls in the embroidery. She was carefully tracing her finger over the design with interest.
'I did,' Mummy said. 'Do you like this dress, Love?'
Hermione nodded with a smile. 'It's exquisite!'
Mummy laughed at Hermione's choice of word. 'Then, maybe you can wear this on your wedding, too.'
'What did Daddy wear on your wedding?' The little girl asked.
'Oh, it was a tuxedo,' Mummy blushed a bit. 'He was looking very handsome in that.'
'Did you love Daddy even then?' She asked in her childish innocence.
'Of course, Sweetheart,' Mummy smiled. 'Why marry without love?'
UIUUUUU
Severus had woken up early after barely sleeping for an hour or two. He had retired to his Lab in the Cellar. Hours later, he sat with some notes and books on the table. Minerva had sent all the relevant books from the school Library for his use, on bonding rituals. But hardly any book had much information on the Dark Wedding, itself. Certainly, he could find no way of breaking the bond. But at least, he had worked out a solution for the other terms.
The house was silent, he had no idea if the girl had woken up or not. He was restricting himself from thinking about her. Thinking about her made Severus remember the plight that she was in, last night—all because of him. Tears had leaked from eyes, because of Severus! He had caused her a wound that would never heal.
She was young, and he had possibly besmirched her idea of... What an absolute bastard he had turned out to be. He could not understand how the act had even provided a release in the first place. But he knew, had the 'release' not washed over him, the bond would not have been sated. He had to take his mind over all that he could ever associate with being 'sexually stimulating' to bring that release. Severus had closed his eyes, not having the gall to look at her while in the 'act'. It reminded him painfully of what he had become... A beast, a rapist.
He had finally become 'his father's son'.
Mother would be proud, wouldn't she, you lewd beast!
He had felt sick and when he had woken up in the middle of the night, the remnants of a nightmarish memory of his Mother had finally urged the nausea enough to make him revisit the negligible food he had eaten and stomach acids.
He was a rapist. A murderer and a rapist.
When Severus heard the door to the bathroom open and shut, he wanted to retreat to his room, to be anywhere but face Granger and face the churning guilt that came with his new 'identity' as a molester. Reluctantly, he collected his notes into a pile. Severus left the Cellar and went to the living room.
He could hear the water running in the shower on the first floor. He would have to have the conversation with the girl before the bond could start harming her for not 'performing her duties'.
He firecalled the Kitchens at Hogwarts and ordered breakfast. Usually, Albus let the Professors take some specific school elves home for the holidays, barring the ones who looked after the staff that remained in the school. But Severus had never taken any with himself. He valued his privacy. In fact, being Muggle-raised, he usually did his work on his own. Or with the help of magic.A small house-elf soon appeared with a tray of breakfast. Severus put a Warming Charm on the food and sent the tray to the kitchen.
He heard the bathroom door being opened and shut again, followed by the guest room. He waited for Granger to come back, again burying himself into one of the books Minerva had sent.
The fact that there was not much mentioned about the Dark Wedding was also in their favour, in a way. As much as Severus knew the girl, she would make it a mission in life to read all the matter that she could find on the bonding ritual. In that case, their 'taradiddle' would have been exposed. But now that not much was available on it, she would never discover the one-sided nature of the bond—or so he hoped.
UUUUUU
Hermione had expected to have experienced some pain in the morning. But somehow, she didn't. There was some blood on the sheets, but thankfully, that was the end of it. She had taken a long shower, scrubbing herself thoroughly. She had avoided the claw-footed bathtub which did seem intriguing, not wanting to take long enough for Snape to find a way to speak to her. Her skin was flushed from being cleaned under scalding water and her face itched from her too liberal use of harsh soap. She had washed herself with maddening desperation until she felt clean of any physical evidence of last night.
She had quickly retreated to the room given to her and locked the door. She had asked Professor McGonagall to put up wards around the room to bar Snape's entry inside, without her permission.
Hermione spotted the small vial of potion sitting on the desk. By the colour, it seemed to be a Pain Reliever. She did not need his favours! Hermione picked up the vial and threw it against the floor at a distance. The glass broke and the contents spilled freely to form a puddle.
Fuming, Hermione got into bed and under the blankets. She had no will to leave the room. She had no will to do anything, but to close her eyes and dream about the times that she had had with her parents, the better days. She regretted all the holidays that she had spent at school or somewhere else, missing her chance to be with them... And now, she would never get that chance again.
A lullaby that Dad sang to her played in her mind. His voice was too rough to be singing and she always laughed when he sang. Her father used to snap his fingers and clap on the rhythm, not caring about Hermione's giggles. It made her happy in a way that a child becomes happy on seeing colourful balloons.
Crooks settled by her side, butting his head into his hand, purring. She hugged him and buried her face in his coat. Her eyes burned from crying all night and she felt bone-weary.
"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green,
When you are king, dilly dilly,
I shall be queen..." She began singing to herself in nothing more than a weak whisper. Her song had no rhythm, no melody. Only a hollowness that stung her.
"I'm sorry, Dad... I'm sorry, Mum," she mumbled apologies. "If I were not a witch..."
The tune kept echoing in her mind and soft sobs made their way out.
UUUUUU
It was after an hour that Severus realised Granger was still locked in her room. With a groan of annoyance, he put the book down.
He ascended the steps to her room and knocked at the door with great reluctance. They had much to discuss. The terms of the bond had to be sated soon, now that the bond was consummated.
"Miss Granger?" He called.
The girl did not reply. He sighed and knocked again.
The door suddenly jerked open with more force than required. "What?" She snapped. Granger kept standing behind the door with her face turned away from him.
"Come down, please," he said. "We still have a lot to discuss."
"I do not want to discuss anything with you," she muttered. "Leave me alone."
"You must know that this discussion is regarding how you are to deceive the terms of the bond," he said before she could shut the door. "I have worked out certain-"
"Fine. I'll be there in a minute," she said tersely and closed the door on his face.
Damn her! Had it been anyone else, Severus would have- No. She was well within her rights. What else did he expect? The girl would not come dancing to his tunes after what he had done. She better not, in truth.
He went down to the kitchen. Two plates of breakfast sat on the table. She would not eat with him, that much he was certain of. He vanished one of the two plates with his wand.
Severus sat on the other end of the table, almost considering drinking another Pain Reliever for his headache. That would be his fifth since the last day.
The door opened and closed. Hesitant steps followed, coming down the stairs. Granger had her wand in her hand at her side. She stood near the wall, glaring at him. Severus summoned his notes from the living room and stacked them in front of himself.
"Sit. Please." He needed to remind himself constantly not to deliver any speech as an order.
"I am fine here." She said curtly.
He gestured towards the plate of food. She eyed it for moment before folding her arms in front of her and shaking her head.
"Your Head of House has sent the meal from Hogwarts, must you know," he lied.
She stood in consideration, then finally decided to sit. She moved towards herself the plate laden with eggs, bacon and toast. Granger ate in silence. Severus noticed, from behind the parchment that he was reading, how her deft fingers practised proper manners with the food, working on cutting neat pieces with her cutlery, taking slow bites and chewing without a noise. He had often had the displeasure of watching Ronald Weasley eat while leaving the Order Headquarters after a meeting—suffice to say, Severus had felt like emptying the entire Gryffindor hourglass away. That random thought kept Severus from acknowledging the situation at hand for a while.
When she was finished, the plate disappeared on its own accord, seemingly back at Hogwarts.
"Miss Granger," he said, keeping his voice levelled, "I would like-" he pretended to cough to cover his slip of tongue up, "-I would request you to read the terms of the bond from here." He summoned a book from the Cellar and offered her.
Granger took the book and opened it.
"Page one-ninty-two," he said, looking at his parchments again.
He surreptitiously watched as the girl read that particular page. Her reaction changed from annoyed, to angry, to disappointment, then back to annoyed. She snapped the book shut.
"You must know, Professor, that I will not follow a single one of these morbid terms," she stated. Her emphasis on his title was sharp and acerbic, letting him know of the animosity that prevailed without reservations.
"Neither was I expecting otherwise," he said in his usual cold voice. "I have worked out a few well-meaning ways to satisfy the terms without you having to actually bear with the terms."
When he was sure that she would not retort, he said, "Let us begin from the first term: cooking, for me."
She winced. So did he, inwardly.
"According to the bond, you are to cook something for me for each meal that I take," he gave a short preamble, ignoring her scowl. "It could also be interpreted in the way that I have to eat, at the very least, one item that has been cooked by you. Instead of cooking for every one of my meals, you can prepare something at once that can be kept under the Stasis. I will eat a small portion from that item at each meal."
"Something like pickle?" She asked.
"Precisely," he nodded.
"Fine." She muttered.
"Next, you are supposed to do the laundry, according to the bond," he added. "But I believe that you only are required to wash any one piece of my clothing daily."
"That's absurd," she muttered.
Indeed.
"There are no specifications given, so the item can be something as nondescript as a handkerchief," he explained. "While we are at Hogwarts, you can use a simple spell on it. Meanwhile, you only need to as good as wring it after putting it under running water."
Granger huffed. "Fine."
Severus had expected some kind of reaction but apparently, the girl wanted nothing more to do with him than strictly required.
Well, that was a relief for him.
"The third is cleaning my property," he said in his levelled voice. "It is nowhere mentioned that the said property cannot be movable. You can clean any piece of furniture here, only one, each day, while you are here. At Hogwarts, I will provide you with something of my possession for the same."
"Fine."
"Fourth term of the bond, Miss Granger," he said, cognisant that the peace would be broken here, "Is that you are to spend some time in my company-"
"Don't even expect-"
"Half an hour should suffice," he finished. "As I could not find any other way to deceive that particular term, I believe thirty minutes should be enough."
"I am not spending any time in your company outside class!" She declared.
"On the days that you do have a class with me, you will not be required to follow the term otherwise," he said, looking into his parchment. "On other days, perhaps sitting in the library would be sufficient to deceive the bond."
"Fine."
"The last two terms will never be a bother to you, I give you my word." He finished solemnly.
"Oh, I'll make sure they aren't." She muttered with a huff.
The last two and the most preposterous terms of the bond were such that they were no better than being unspeakable. The second last term said that the girl was to 'take care' of him. There was no further explanation on the term 'take care', so Severus assumed that it would only apply to her if he were to make a complaint of not being 'taken care of' by her. Which he would unquestionably never do. The last term was the most atrocious of them all. It specified that the girl had to satisfy his needs—sexual needs. But again, Severus assumed that as the terms of the bond would never work against the man in the relationship, it clearly meant that if he did not want the girl to be the one to satisfy him, the bond would not react badly. As it was, not many men in the ancient Pure Blood strata had legitimate children continuing their line.
"I don't want to see this," she suddenly declared. Severus looked up to find her holding her hand out, the one that had the band on. "Hide this with a Glamour."
Without a word, he simply waved his wand over her hand. The silver band vanished from the view, leaving behind pale skin. He applied the same spell on the band on his finger, too. Severus, too, had no desire, whatsoever, to be reminded constantly of their situation. Or worse, be subjected to answer uncomfortable questions.
He watched as Granger set her gaze to Severus' right. He turned back slightly to see what had intrigued the girl out of the conversation. He found nothing too enticing in his living room that came into his line of sight. He turned back to the girl to find her eyes to have already been averted, now fixed to her lap.
"I would advise that you begin with the cooking," he said neutrally.
"What?"
"Anything that you can—with ease," he replied. "I will put it under Stasis." Severus had never been too fond of food, anyway. He ate to live, not the other way around.
Granger positively looked at a loss. He suppressed his urge to roll his eyes and bark at her to make a move before the bond took it for dawdling in performing the duties. "Miss Granger, I can assist you with the positioning of the ingredients in my kitchen, but not with the cooking itself," he said in order to initiate the task.
"Jam?" She suddenly asked. "I know how to..." Her voice sounded small and quite vulnerable. But it quickly took a colder demeanour. "I will make some jam." With that, she stood up.
Severus was satisfied with that—jam could be put under Stasis with no difficulty, and can be consumed in small quantities in all his meals. Although, he almost despised sweet, he could manage with a small spoonful for sure.
"You will find the fruits in the refrigerator," he instructed, getting to his feet, too.
Granger opened the refrigerator and picked some peaches. Severus watched as she almost absently chose a knife from the rack, and began removing the seed from the fruit. Granger's fingers worked deftly while she sliced the peached into small pieces, a telltale to her remarkable grades in potions—not that he would ever comment upon that in the open, and would deny ever even thinking on those lines. The girl worked almost in a daze, hardly paying attention to the fruits. Severus wondered if she was in a habit of cooking. She belonged to a Muggle household, with no house-elves. She could very well be.
Next, she picked out a container from the shelves and put the sliced fruits in. "Sugar?" She asked without looking at him.
"Third drawer from your right," he simply instructed.
As the girl put the fruits to soak into the sugar solution, Severus' thoughts drove back to what Minerva had said.
'Be kind to her, Severus.'
He mentally snorted. He was seldom kind to anyone. But he was the culprit here.
It had not been Severus' first committed murder, let alone his first offence. He had committed many crimes, including murders—for both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Granger was not the first person he had orphaned. But his guilt was at the zenith that particular time because...Granger was the first he had to face after committing such a gruesome crime in front of her eyes.
Granger was the first whom he had so gravely injured and in fact, trapped so complicatedly that there would be no respite. Perhaps, the little tolerance he had for her was for that reason. He had compelled Granger in ways that he never had before.
After her parents' demise, cooking for him was not what she was supposed to be doing. She was meant to be mourning, in the presence of those who could share her pain. Severus could understand that she was grieving, but he could not empathise with her. Because he had never felt that kind of loss.
When his Mother had died, he had 'tried' to mourn, to feel the surge of grief, but it had never struck him. Maybe, because he had known that death was kinder than Eileen Snape alive but bereft of all hopes and happiness. Her death had also eased a burden from his shoulders—a burden to remain on the Light side for the fear that his Mother would be disappointed in him. By then, Lily had already severed all ties with him. So, after his Seventh year, when Mother had passed away, he had joined the Dark Lord, two days after her funeral.
And, when he had received the news of his Father dying, all he had bothered to mutter was—'Good Riddance'.
But loss—he had felt loss, loss that had left him so empty that he could never feel anything after that—neither for himself nor for anyone else. That had been for Lily's demise. Severus still did not know how the months following Lily's death had gone by. He was in a haze, for the lack of a better word.
He had to spend about three weeks in Azkaban until Dumbledore could prove his innocence to the Wizengamot. That pleasurable stay at Azkaban, too, had a role to play in his apparent dearth of empathy.
When he thought about Lily—whenever his thoughts drifted to that only soulful corner of his being, he did feel pain. But for nothing beyond that—for no one beyond Lily.
But guilt—that he knew all too well. Guilt of having the only woman he had ever loved, killed. Presently, he was burdened with the guilt of destroying Granger's life... But guilt could hardly give rise to kindness.
As the smell of peaches pervaded the kitchen, Severus looked back where the girl was standing by the stove, her back towards him. Her shoulders were shaking, ever so slightly. Sniffs were muffled by one of her hand while the other worked with a spatula. Involuntary sobs were being ineffectively tried to be covered in the shadows of feigned bouts of coughs.
The only act of kindness that Severus could do was to give the girl some privacy. She was grieving so at least, he would let her—in some peace. He left the kitchen and went to sit in the living room, instead. It was private—shedding tears over a lost family.
He snatched a journal on potions from the shelves covering the walls of his living room and sat with his back to where the girl was working.
UUUUUU
"The last terms will not be a bother to you, I give you my word." Snape declared.
"Oh, I'll make sure they aren't." Hermione huffed.
She recalled the last two terms and the briefly explained Infidelity Clause in her mind and cringed. Taking care? She was not his nursemaid. The events from the dreadful last night made an appearance in front of her eyes. She would rather slit her own throat—or better yet, his throat—than be 'involved' with him again. She knew it had still to hit her. Among her parents gone and her new situation, the last night had not registered itself in her head, completely. When it would, she did not know how she would manage to cope up with it.
It was not rape, according go a strictly legal definition, because she had—though reluctantly—given her consent. But her will was not there... But she had willed to save Snape's life due to which she had to... Did that count?
Suddenly, all those thoughts drained from her mind as her eyes fell upon the dark brown curtains in Snape's living room. That was her Dad's favourite colour. Last year, Hermione had sent him a sweater in that colour on his birthday—she had knitted it herself... Dad had later sent a photograph to her of his in that sweater. It was a bit loose but he was grinning with such joy in that picture that it didn't matter if the garment fitted or not.
She had been saving to purchase a wrist watch for him for his coming birthday... That money was still in her trunk, Muggle money, safely tucked in an old wallet so she didn't spend it anywhere else... She wouldn't need that money anymore... Dad was gone—forever. And so did Mom.
She quickly looked away, not wanting to break down in front of Snape, and insult her parents' memories!
"I would advise that you begin with the cooking," Snape startled her out of her stupor.
"What?" She took a moment to comprehend.
"Anything that you can—with ease," he replied. "I will put it under Stasis." He had taken her previous slip of tongue as an inquisition. Hermione was not interested in knowing what he would like, anyway. She couldn't care less for what she fed him, even if it was poisonous.
"Miss Granger, I can assist you with the positioning of the ingredients in my kitchen, but not with the cooking itself." That was better, having to do with him as little as possible.
"Jam?" She thought loudly. Could she have remembered how Mum used to make jam at home. "I know how to..." Yes, she would just follow from her memory how Mum used to make it... "I will make some jam."
"You will find the fruits in the refrigerator," he told her.
Hermione opened the refrigerator and looked inside. Mum used to use all sorts of fruits but she could only find some peaches in there. It would be better if she tried it with only a single fruit at first.
She chose a knife from the rack, and recalled how Mum would first remove the seed from the fruit.
Then, Mum would slice the peached into small pieces.
She used to go to Church on Sundays until she went to Hogwarts. Religion was not followed in the Wizarding World. They followed no Bible, no Christ... So she, too, had quickly adapted to that. But some concepts had still remained in her mind from her early sessions.
Hermione picked out a steel container from the shelves and tossed the sliced fruits in. Next, if she recalled correctly, came putting the slices in sugar.
"Sugar?" She asked.
"Third drawer from your right," he coldly said. God, she hated his voice...
She put the fruits to soak into the sugar before adding water to it, ignoring the presence of the man behind her.
Heaven. Was there a Heaven? If there was, she liked to believe that her parents were there, together, like they always were—madly in love with each other, even years after their marriage. For some reason, it never become old for them... Mum had always blushed when Dad complimented her. Dad had always waited for Mum to set his tie right before leaving the house. They still flirted playfully with each other and yet, despite maintaining the novelty, they had been so content and comfortable with each other, even in silence.
Vaguely, she used to wonder if she could ever establish such a relationship with Ron... But Ron, she knew, would never have made the first move. Now, she was glad that he didn't...
She put the utensil on the stove to boil and chose a spatula to work with. She couldn't remember if she were to leave the fruits into the solution or not.
Dad was right, she was just too miserable at cooking...
That was a part of the last conversation she had had with him. The last few jokes she had shared with her beloved father before the world had lost all its colour.
She didn't realise when tears had started leaking from her eyes. The deep hollow was hurting... She couldn't breathe, suddenly, because her heart felt so heavy.
She clamped a hand to her mouth as sobs escaped from deep within her chest, and even pretended to cough to hide them. She would not let the man see her weakness. He had murdered her parents, she would not give him the satisfaction of watching her cry over them. No matter what Professor McGonagall thought or what Professor Dumbledore said, in her eyes, Snape was nothing but a killer.
No matter what his reasoning was, Mum and Dad were gone, so, so, so far for her to reach...
UUUUUU
All of Severus' doubts about Granger's exceptional cooking were cleared the moment he had the misfortune of laying eyes over the 'jam' she had made. He was almost certain that she had deliberately made it so horrible.
It was nothing but a lot of goo. It did smell of peaches but if one were to visually perceive it, one would start loathing even the otherwise soothing smell of the perfectly decent fruit.
Granger stood there, her arms crossed in front of her, glaring at a spot above his shoulder.
Severus wordlessly summoned a glass jar from a drawer and stored the whatever-it-was in it. He put a Stasis on it, too.
Of course, what else did he expect? A royal meal?
He decided to eat a bit of it before the bond started reacting in the undesirable ways. With a spoon, he picked some of the jam up and without looking at it, shoved it into his mouth.
Sweet Merlin!
The thing was positively viscous. It was too sweet to make his teeth hurt and with too much vinegar to make his tongue burn. He mustered all his self control so as not to spit it away immediately.
Vile, scheming woman!
He had to eat that atrocious delicacy with each meal. He only wished the bond wouldn't react to that breach of performing her so-called-duty.
"That should suffice for more than four months, at least," she concluded.
Four months? Merlin!
Granger grabbed a rag from the counter and quickly cleaned the kitchen table with it. Another duty finished.
She, then, stood in front of him expectantly. Severus, having successfully swallowed the jam by now, closed the lid of the jar. It was only a miracle he was not revisiting his last meal.
He, then, summoned a clean handkerchief from his cupboard, and handed it to the girl. Without a word, she washed it under tap water in the sink, wrung it half-heartedly, and returned it to him.
"I think the quota of thirty minutes has already been satisfied," she said. Without further words, she turned to leave the kitchen. Then, she froze. "Funeral." She turned back to face him, "What did they do to them?"
UUUUUUU
Hermione felt like kicking herself for wallowing so deep in her own grief that she had forgotten to inquire about her parents'...bodies. Giving them a proper funeral was the least she could do for them.
For a moment, she thought that the Death Eaters had vanished their body with their wands—that felt like a sharp stab in her stomach. She turned to Snape, "What did they do to them?" No. She could not bear the thought of denying her Muggle parents the simple respect of a funeral, and letting their bodies be vanished by a wave of Magic—the same Magic that had killed them.
Snape seemed conflicted before smoothening his features into impassiveness. "They were buried." The words held no reverence for the dead, no guilt for his deeds.
"Buried?" Hermione took a shuddered breath. "Just like that? Just...buried?"
"Your Head of House had confirmed that they were Catholic, so they were buried with the due procedure, I believe," he said coldly.
"When?"
"The early morning after-"
"Who arranged for it?" She asked with exasperation.
"Your Head of House, I believe," he replied.
"And nobody thought it prudent to have involved me, too?" Hermione was breathing deeper than usual to control her rising temper.
"You, Miss Granger, were unconscious, if I recall correctly," he reasoned, except it was without a reasoning. "Their bodies could not have been left, Muggles as they were, and had been struck by Magic, their bodies would have decayed too soon to even be recognised-"
"Don't speak about them like that!" She snapped. She knew what he was saying was only conceptual—the bodies would have, indeed, been decayed. But to hear of her parents in that context by their very killer was all too nauseating.
"Whether you like to hear of it or not, Miss Granger-"
"I want to visit them," she declared, cutting him off. "Today. Now." Not wanting to look at his face any longer, she turned away, again.
After a moment of silence, he said, "Very well. We will Apparate to the Graveyard in ten minutes."
Not bothering to reply, Hermione strode up the stairs.
UUUUUU
Severus sat, contemplating what possessed him to have barked such an ill-prepared lie to the girl. Now, he would have to make Minerva privy to the story, in case the girl ever stumbled upon that topic with her—which she would, no doubt.
Severus had gone straight back to the vicinity of the Malfoy Manor after leaving Granger with Albus. Those imbeciles Lestrange brothers had said something about dumping the bodies in a garbage pit. To them, the dead bodies of two Muggles was nothing more than garbage. To them, there was no meaning to a man beyond his Magic and blood-status.
He had located the said pit and had easily found the corpses of Granger's parents. They had already begun to decompose. Severus had retrieved the bodies and had Apparated to the Granger residence in the dead between night and dawn.
He had taken the dead couple in the house, and noticed the plight that the vacant house reflected—the smell of burnt food from the kitchen having been left on the stove for too long, a shattered vase in an attempt to strike one of their attackers, the telltale blood trail and the disheveled state of the living room in general quite clearly evident to a struggle.
He had taken the bodies to one of the bedrooms. He had tried to clean the bodies as best as he could manage—without using too much Magic. He had to be quick, in case some lunatic follower of the madman had plans to destroy the house, too. Severus had dressed the couple in clean clothes, having cleaned the blood and sealed the gaping wounds. It had taken the good part of an hour.
Severus had also gone around the house to find any evidence of the faith they followed. He had easily found a Crucifix on the wall of the living room. With that knowledge, he had Apparated himself and the bodies to a nearby Graveyard.
It had taken some good spell-work on his part to have Confounded the priest in such a way that he did not inquire the reason for an early morning burual without anyone from the family, but also did not falter in performing the rites.
With the burial done, Severus had once more Apparated to Granger's house to collect her belongings and her trunk, along with that nasty, little cat of hers who had fought with all its might not to go with Severus, but had later complied. He had packed anything of importance he could find: books, clothes, photographs, albums, documents, letters, basically everything from the room that was clearly Granger's and from all the drawers and cupboards in the house, except the drawers that contained mundane things like compact disks and china.
Now that he thought of the night, Severus wondered why he had taken it upon himself to provide a burial for the couple instead of actually levying that upon his colleague like he had said to Granger. Again, it must have been the guilt...
When Granger came down, she was wearing Muggle clothes—a simple black dress. She had been mourning since, now it was just more apparent. Her hair was tucked in a bun, leaving her face exposed enough to see her swollen, red eyes.
He had done it.
"We will Apparate," he announced. Severus was already in a pair of trousers and a button-down shirt—Muggle enough, he decided. His cloak would not accompany him today.
"I cannot," she mumbled. But even that acceptance of inability to do something did not bring that embarrassed rush of blood to her face that he had—only very rarely—seen in his class. Perhaps, she had said it without actually registering the words.
"Side-along, then," he muttered, holding up his arm for her to take.
She looked at him with uncertainty and even some anger. He waited for a bitter retort to be thrown his way 'for even suggesting that she would touch the arm of the killer' but Granger took it albeit flinching. He would have commented upon the importance of the tightness of her hold but Severus was certain the girl was aware of the consequences to let her grip be anything but firm.
With a crack, they took flight. In a matter of moments, his feet touched the grassy ground of the Graveyard. As expected, the Apparation point was empty. In fact, from a distance, he could only see an elderly couple standing near one of the tombstones.
Beside him, he heard the girl stumbling on her feet. But as he reached to help, she held up a hand defiantly, although that only made her fall to the ground on her hands and knees. But Severus made no attempt to aid her again. He only crossed his arms over his chest, reminding himself what Minerva had said—but with those 'kind' responses from the girl, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to hold up to the words.
Granger, after a minute, stood up and dusted her dress, without looking up. Severus, too, wordlessly led her to where her parents' grave was.
UUUUUU
As Hermione followed Snape through the Graveyard, she became aware of her surroundings. She had never really been inside a Graveyard before, and had imagined the place to be eerie with eagles flying over her head and dried leaves crunching under her feet. But this Graveyard had grass, green grass. It was almost peaceful. Perhaps, it had a significance to the peace that death provided... She could hear the birds and could feel the sun. She avoided looking at the couple who, too, were visiting one of the graves, although she did wonder, vaguely, whom they might be visiting.
When Snape stopped and gestured towards two adjacent tombstones, Hermione's eyes fell upon the Epitaph.
'Jean Granger'.
'Samuel Granger'.
That was all-plain and simple. Only their names without their middle names... Names that could only be remembered as a far gone memory—names that would not be called to addresses anyone. Names that nobody would respond to now.
There was dust on the names engraved on the white stone. Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
Hermione pulled out a handkerchief from her small satchel, and gently wiped it over the names. But the bare standing of just the incomplete names hurt her eyes. They deserved better recognition than that.
"Can I use my wand?" She asked in a steely voice, still facing the tombstones.
"You can," Snape replied after a moment. "The Ministry will not be able to trace you as the culprit in public."
Hermione pulled out her wand from her sleeve. She glanced around to find that that couple had left. With relief over that, she knelt before the tombstones.
"Engraveo," she cast. The magic from her wand penetrated the stone. It worked like a quill on a parchment, beautifully carving every curve and line of the letters, on her Mum's tombstone.
When she was done, Hermione shifted back to read the words.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.
Hermione also added her Mum's middle name and birth and death year below her name.
Next, she moved to sit before her Dad's tombstone, and cast the spell again, after adding his nane and years, too. After carving the words, she moved her eyes through them.
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.
'You're hardly old, Dad!'
'What would you call a fifty-year-old, then?'
She caressed the carved name of her father with her shaky fingers.
Too young to have died.
"Miss Granger-"
"Don't you speak!" Hermione abruptly got to her feet to face the wretched bastard. "Get lost! Just go away! Don't you dare disgrace their graves with your presence!" She could hardly comprehend if she was yelling or merely whispering. But whatever it was, it had such fervour that it made her tremble. She jabbed a finger to his chest. "Don't you come near my parents' graves, you bloody murderer!"
"Granger, it is not safe-"
"Oh, I know!" She shot back. "Safe? I'm not safe anywhere, having been stuck with a deplorable, cold-hearted, murderer of a Death Eater like you, Snape!"
Hermione did not wait for him to open his mouth. She went on, feeling the heat of her anger on the very surface. "How did you feel, huh? How does it make you feel every time you kill someone? Does it give you warmth to see the blood that you have drawn, to hear your victims in agony, to watch as their breathing stops as you kill them—with your bloodstained, murderous hands!"
"Enough!" Snape barked.
"No, you will listen!" Hermione shrieked. "Why? Does it weigh too much on your non-existing conscience to be reminded of all your wretched deeds? Tell me, Snape, do you relish in your memories of having perpetrated such heinous acts?! Does it soothe you your tainted soul—if you still have one, that is!"
Hermione, herself, could not believe these words were coming out of her mouth. She did not know herself to be capable of such derogatory remarks. But she went on...
"And then? After killing them, after leaving me with no one to call my own," she was positively screaming in his face, "You get me bonded to your pathetic self, and become the martyr in everyone's eyes to have sacrificed your freedom to save a poor Muggleborn girl!
"Because you want to play safe. Whichever side wins, you will win, isn't that the case? For Voldemort, you have killed them and for Professor Dumbledore, you have managed to get my life spared. Slytherin to the very meaning of the word, aren't you?
"And I'm sure, you are sleeping peacefully at night with the knowledge that you have attained yourself a slave for life!"
She paused to take a breath, and looked at his face—still defiantly impassive, not betraying a shred of regret that she wanted him to feel so desperately.
"Only if I were even a part like you, I would have killed myself, taking you along," she spat. "But it is too important to me to maintain that line that separates us, because that reminds me what I should never become, despite whatever you or your swine of a master throw at me! I did not believe myself capable of such hatred, but now I think, I have found new limits to my reserve of loathe for you, you despicable man."
She kept gazing at him, as if piercing him with her mere eyes. "Get out of my sight until I muster enough self control to tolerate your unfortunate presence around." She turned away, her hand itching to hold her wand and hex the man.
"I will grant you your privacy but do not expect me to leave," he stated. No hint of regret in his voice. "When you are capable of looking beyond your narrow vision hampered by intransigence, we can Apparate back to safety."
"Just. Go." She demanded with annoyance.
But at least, he walked away after that, leaving her in some peace.
UUUUUUU
The chit of a girl!
Severus stood at a distance from where Granger was again kneeling by the graves. He was impatiently tapping his foot, making a clear show of having been stuck with her. But if he were to be honest...he was not in a hurry, truly.
He had deserved every allegation that she had thrown at him, except that he 'relished' in those memories. If only she knew of the extent of nightmares that plagued him if ever he dared to sleep without his Occlumency Shield intact, she would know how much he 'enjoyed' following his 'Master's' orders.
The recent incidents had only added on to the bulk.
Her harangue had not even angered him as much as it was supposed to. Wasn't all that the girl had said akin to what he wanted to say to the Dark Lord for killing Lily and to Albus for having failed to protect her? But the girl had let it out, all the steam to her satisfaction, and he had been living with that frustration since fifteen years...
Severus leaned against a tree, surreptitiously watching the girl. But all she did was sat by the graves. She would occasionally stroke the tombstones, but mostly just sat. Severus had never visited his Mother's grave after the funeral, and his Father's grave he didn't even know where it was... He had never felt compliant to visit them for the simple reason that they were dead. All that laid beneath the tombstone were decaying bodies—what comfort was anyone to pick from the dead, anyway?
He had once thought of visiting Lily's grave, but the thought that James Potter's grave would, too, be there had lowered his spirits. That, and the same reason—Lily was dead and certainly not confined to her grave.
But the girl sat there as if she was sitting by her parents, themselves. It was a morbid kind of fascination, he felt. He could never understand what drove people to extract comfort from a photograph of a dead one, or some other trinket that had once belonged to the one dead...
If he ever wanted to remember Lily, he revisited his memories of her, in his mind. That was all he ever did. And even that was unbearable.
Granger sat there until the sun had begun to set. In that time, Severus had sat, stood, paced, looked around—but the girl had sat almost motionlessly. At one point, he had assumed her to have drifted off. But her eyes were open, staring at the tombstones. Occasionally, a tear or two would slip down her cheeks of which she remained completely unaware until they dried and left tear tracks on her face, only to be washed away by new tears after a while.
When she had finally gotten up, Severus had felt almost relieved. She had slowly walked away from the grave, stopping once but not turning back. She, then, had come to his side. Severus had held out his arm which she had taken with her shaking hand.
She had finally glanced back one last time and Severus had waited for her to tell him to stop, but when she did not, he Apparated themselves away.
Nothing more transpired that day. Granger locked herself in her room and Severus went inside his Lab.
He was quite sure that after delivering her diatribe of maintaining the difference between them, Granger would not attempt anything parlous with herself.
Severus then wrote to Minerva, explaining her that she was to abide by the story of having arranged Granger's parents' burial. Had the girl known that he was behind the burial, in reality, she would have lost her mind. He would not have been shocked had she demanded another burial, just because he, Severus, had been involved.
Many people hated Severus, but Hermione Granger was, perhaps, the one with the highest intensity, most passion.
Well, he could live with the hatred, he was used to it.
A/N: Thank you so, so much for such a great response and for showing so much love. I receive a mail about a review or a favourite or a follower, and I just perk up. My lovely readers make my day. :)
Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying this story.