Disclaimer: Not JKR. If I was Snape would have lived and all my OTP's would be canon.
Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! All your comments were brilliant and it's really reassuring that you enjoyed the characterisation of Ron; he's the one I find hardest to write. Anyway, hope you enjoy, continue to review! :)
Comedy is defiance. It's a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it's the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.
Will Durst
Ginny Weasley was an absolute menace.
And to think; Hermione had griped about Harry when he had quietly convinced her to return to Grimauld Place with him. Refusing to take no for an answer, Harry had all but marched her to the floo. She had seen the logic of it all at the time: Ron would probably arrive back drunk and rearing for a row, while Hermione knew that on less than four hours sleep in the last two days, she was completely ill-equipped to delicately deal with the situation. Not to mention it would probably occur in the middle of the Weasley's breakfast.
So she had relented. Grasping Harry's hand they spun through the whirling green vortex, before stepping out into the now clean and airy kitchen of Grimauld Place.
Where Ginny had promptly bullied her into having a cup of tea.
A nice, soothing cup of tea.
Delicately laced with dreamless sleep.
Hermione had woken up in a comfortable languor, stretching out on the wide double bed and sinking further into the luxurious mink duvet. In those fleeting moments of semi-consciousness she'd been completely and utterly content. Until she remembered she didn't own mink duvet and Percy's bed was a cramped single pressed up against the wall with a dodgy spring in the far left corner.
Peeking above the soft covers, Hermione recognised the spare bedroom as the one she and Ginny had shared in the summer of fifth year. Admittedly it had come through some stringent renovations since then. Soft golden sunlight streamed through the beige blinds, setting the lightly floating dust alight. Hermione groaned, wondering exactly how long she'd been asleep.
Scratch that, exactly how long since I was drugged.
Still in her crumpled, and by now slightly mangy St Mungo's robes, Hermione padded down the stairs. While she would have sorely loved to stream down them, billowing profanities for the entire house to hear, she knew nothing, certainly not a bit of sleeping potion, was worth waking the menace that was Mrs Black's portrait.
Arriving in the kitchen Hermione couldn't help but glare at the somewhat sheepish looking boy-who-lived. Harry was sat at the table, paper stretched in front of him while Ginny sat across from him, legs unfolded across his lap.
"Told you she'd be angry" Harry muttered to the fiery red head, as Ginny looked over her shoulder to offer Hermione an infuriatingly innocent smile.
"Angry, does not cover it. What time is it? How long was I out? Have you heard from Ron?" Hermione felt the slight vestiges of a headache pierce her newly won peace. With each question that she couldn't help but shoot out, another memory from the night before came to light.
"Oh god, have you heard from your mum Ginny? Should I go and pick up my stuff?" Hermione's head thumped again as she realised she had nothing to her name bar the creased lime robes on her back.
"And I've missed work. Sullivan will go sparse. They're going to- oh but If I went back…"
Hermione's mouth went dry as she remembered precisely what was waiting for her back at work.
This time it was Ginny, not Harry, who rose from the table forcing her down onto a chair while lightly slapping her on the cheek.
"Right. Hermione. Calm down. It's only 11 o'clock."
"Ginny! Don't hit her! Hermione are you okay"
"I didn't hit her!" Ginny huffed. "She's going into shock again. Trust me, you weren't there the day she realised she'd missed her entire seventh year and had a matter of months to go through it."
Ginny paused here, looking down at the Hermione. Hermione knew on some level what she must look like, and endeavoured to close her gaping mouth and take deep calm breaths.
"Actually, you know, she might have been worse that day." Ginny mused out loud.
Harry looked from his girlfriend to Hermione's still pale face, obviously not sure what to do next.
"Uh, tea. I'll make us some tea." He mumbled
Those, it seemed, were the magic words after all.
"No!" Hermione's face quickly flushed with colour again as she abandoned her calm breathing. "If you think for one minute I'm drinking any thing in this house ever again, you must be out of your mind Harry Potter."
Ginny only laughed at this, patting her heartily on the back.
"There we go, that's our Hermione." The younger redhead beamed
"Honestly, I swear I didn't know that tea was drugged-" Harry's guilt was nearly palpable.
"Oh fantastic loyalty there Harry! The chosen one; dobbing on his girlfriend to save his own bloody skin. Lovely" Ginny mock-squabbled.
"I'd rather face Riddle a hundred times over, thank you very much." Harry tartly retorted, all the while smiling at Ginny's false fury.
"Ginny Weasley, you are worse than all your brother's combined." Hermione growled, eyeing the witch accusingly.
"Thank you" she said, as Harry laughed behind her.
"I'll tell you one thing Hermione." Harry started as he finished laughing, "Mad Eye would have never forgiven you."
Hermione only groaned. The brightest witch of her age, a budding potion's apprentice working towards her masters- drugged with a perfectly detectable brew.
"Harry! I think given the circumstances-" She whined, before Harry interrupted her
"Constant vigilance!"
"- it's not like I was expecting my two best friends to drug me –"
"Constant Vigilance!" Ginny growled, joining in.
Hermione caved, unable to stop herself from laughing along. For the briefest few minutes, her world was confined to the rolling ache of her stomach as she gave in to the infectious laughter. It was enough, that even after everything she had done, after the months of guilt and secrets and pent up fear, that she could sit here and laugh with two people who had every right to turn her away.
Suddenly Hermione wasn't laughing so much as crying.
"Hermione! What's wrong" Harry jumped up, immediately forgetting his laughter
"Sweetie, We were only teasing! Hermione?" Ginny crooned, leaning over the table and clasping her hand.
"You just- It just, it means so much, that you're still here and you haven't, I mean, you haven't turned me away. I am so sorry, to both of you. I- Harry, you're my best friend and I should have told you, and Ginny, Ron's your brother and I can't, I can't ever-"
"Hermione, stop." Ginny's own brown eyes were glassed over, and regardless of the fierce determined look that overcame her face; Hermione knew the young girl was close to becoming just as upset as she was.
"I don't care what happens between you and my brother, okay? No matter what, you will always, always be a sister to me. Got it? You have nothing to be sorry about."
"She's right Hermione. I know now why you did it. After everything you've ever done for me, after all the things you've sacrificed to me, how could you ever, ever think I would turn you away?"
Hermione tried to swallow past the burning lump in her throat. Even as she nodded dumbly, the tears refused to stop. It seemed she had mistaken Harry after all. She still saw the boy who'd sided with Ron over a broomstick, who had left her in the library while he played with the boys. She had forgotten the man he'd grown to become. The man who'd forgiven her for breaking his wand, the man who'd nearly sacrificed his place in the second twi-wizard task rather than leave her behind; The man who had been ready to die, along with Ron, to rescue her from Bellatrix's ministrations.
"You're always welcome here, you know that right? No matter what else happens." He continued, oblivious to her inner thoughts.
"And I promise not to drug you again." Ginny added, with a tight watery smile.
Hermione barked out a laugh through her tears.
"I thought I told you. Never drinking here again, remember?" She hiccupped.
Again, the three of them laughed around the table, and Hermione's heart sang. Nothing, she thought, would ever ruin this moment for her.
The laughter in the room died, as the hearth flared to life, spilling green light over the grave face of Mr Weasley.
"Ginny, It's your brother. Harry, Hermione, you'd best come too. Ron's in St Mungo's."
"I hope your soul rots forever in Azkaban you evil worthless git, hell would be too good for you."
"I am so sorry for everything you've been through, you really are a hero of the Wizarding world, our neglected saviour…"
"I don't care what anyone says, you're a murderer and you don't fool me for a second. Dumbledore got what he deserved for trusting you…"
"… it's so unfair how neglected you've been for all these years… Forget Lilly, I live in Sussex and there's always room for you at my small cottage, or my not so small bed…"
"…You tortured and killed my husband and I won't rest until each and every one of you death eaters are wiped off the face of the earth…"
"… Marry me, please..."
"…I hope you die in a pit of your own filth…"
"…We named our eldest after you…"
"…Two-faced coward…"
"…I always fancied you at school you know…"
Severus couldn't decide which set of letter's disgusted him more. He was sat on the stone floor of his living room directly in front of the steadily glowing hearth. On either side of him sat a stack of letters, which he slowly dismantled, then fed to the flames. He'd been at it for at least four hours now, and the mountain of mail was still at an impressive height.
To think, he'd actually planned on sleeping tonight. He'd woken up that morning believing tonight was the night he'd reclaim his peace. Oh and he'd tried. He'd thrown the thrice-cursed book on the mantle place without giving it a second glance. He'd shed his oppressive woollen robes and collapsed onto his bed.
But the darkness was full of her laughter.
It played over and over in his head until his blood boiled with rage and his stomach filled with acid.
She had to have been lying.
You know she wasn't fool.
But why would she mail him, asking for his permission, only to laugh when he demanded formal acknowledgement.
Of course, the voice in his head was silent on that point, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling working the puzzle over, trying to ignore the sound of her laughter coursing through the room. Getting up with a grunt, Severus begrudgingly admitted defeat. He wasn't going to get to sleep.
But he was going to get to the bottom of this.
There were only about 600 letters, after all.
Note: I can't help but picture Severus, moodily going through hundreds of letters, growling all the while. He defiantly needs a witch to help him laugh at himself. Perhaps a swotty know it all witch? ;)
Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone else who hit follow and favourite too :)
