Hope is a Dangerous Thing

Three

2008

Severus climbed the steps up into the Hospital wing with some sense of foreboding. As he stepped into the small antechamber beyond, he immediately saw his misgivings were accurate. He found himself looking at the back of some riotously curly hair, belonging to a figure occupied with casting sterilising charms over empty flasks. At the sound of his entrance, though, the figure turned around and he schooled his expression into blankness. He had thought he might surely have avoided her for at least a couple of visits. To have encountered her both times was frustrating. He was clearly without luck, it seemed.

'May I ask how it is that you come to be in the castle again?' She asked, folding her arms.

'Why, I entered through the front door.' Obviously, hung unsaid in the air.

'I mean, without an appointment. You can't just wander in and out of a school.'

'The Headmistress requested my presence - my appointment is with her.'

She glared at him. 'Visitors are supposed to be escorted around the castle.'

Severus nearly laughed. 'Very well, if you must, I will be returning at the same time most evenings for the time being.'

She raised her eyebrows immediately in surprise and he frowned in annoyance.

'You thought I would spare only one afternoon?'

Her cheeks turned pink, and there was a brief moment before she replied haughtily. 'I'm quite sure it doesn't really matter what I think.'

They glared at each other and he was beginning to feel agitated. He had not really expected to walk into such a confrontation and wasn't ready for it. Not yet. He took the time to choose his next words carefully.

'Professor Granger, I shall be visiting Minerva as and when I see fit. If you have a problem with my presence in the castle, I suggest you take it up with her. I assure you, I have no interest in inconveniencing you.'

After an obstinate pause, she moved aside. He was nearly through the door when she spoke again. This time, he noted her tone was more equitable.

'Fine… How should I contact you if… You know…'

He blinked and cleared his throat. 'I'm staying at the Hog's Head.'

He didn't wait for a reply, but took to the stairs, cursing himself. At the top, when he reached for the door-handle, he thought his hand trembled and he scowled. The past was catching up with him, again. After all this time. He closed his eyes briefly. Minerva was dying. Soon, there would be no one. And Granger, well… Clearly, he had forgotten much, in the years gone by. His memories had not afforded her nearly enough beauty, he thought. But she seemed so different now, and older, as well, he supposed. And so was he; older for sure, but different? He liked to think so. Something else he had completely misjudged was her apparent umbrage. He had anticipated at best, courteous acknowledgement and, at worst, polite indifference. Still, it would not be the first time he had got things wrong. Likely would not be the last.

He finally opened the door, going inside to find Minerva smiling warmly.

'How are you today?' he greeted, endeavouring to ensure his consternation was not visible to her.

'Never mind that.' She waved her hand at the chair. 'Come on, I have been waiting all day for this.'

He groaned loudly. 'You won't drop this?' This was just what he needed after that little skirmish.

'No!'

He folded himself into the chair and glared at her resentfully.

She ignored him. 'But before we start…' She nodded to the little nightstand. 'A wee dram?'

He laughed and obliged by pouring out a measure of Scotland's finest. He handed one to her. 'Should you be drinking?'

Minerva shrugged impudently.

He settled back against the chair and sighed at length at the expectant look he received. 'I suppose I should begin by pointing out that this entire situation is your fault, Minerva.'

She blanched. 'Excuse me?'

'Yes. I was supposed to die or have you forgotten? There was never an outcome where I lived happily ever after and I was always reconciled to that. You know that I was.'

She met him glare for glare. 'I'm not going to apologise,' she sniffed.

'And then you had the temerity to place me in her care.'

'Severus, you exaggerate; you were not in her care, as you so delicately put it. Now, supervision is more -'

He scoffed. 'Supervision? Have you met Hermione Granger? She does nothing by halves. She made it her personal mission to rehabilitate me - mind, body, and…' His voice broke off into the ether with a sigh.

Minerva was looking studiously into her glass. 'And did she?'

It was a moment before he replied. 'Not quite.' He downed his drink in one go and Summoned the bottle back to him. When he had replaced the bottle and she threw him an impatient look that he could not hold. Instead, he looked down to where his feet were crossed at the ankle and fumbled around for the right words.

'I was all over the place when I was recovering… I felt vulnerable most of the time. I didn't know why I was alive. I didn't know how I would survive, after everything. I didn't know what I was supposed to do for the best. And she, well… She was…' He broke off with a groan and put his head in his hands, cringing. 'She was nice to me, Minerva, that is all. That is how ridiculous I was - how ridiculous I am!'

He felt her hand suddenly on his arm. 'Severus, look, you don't have to -'

'No, you wanted to hear it, and maybe I need to hear it, too.' He looked at her now. 'She showed me kindness when I was at my lowest. She seemed to care about what happened to me. I had forgotten what that was like.'

Minerva's face immediately dropped in indignation and he put his hand over hers in reassurance.

'I never deserved kindness from you, but from her? It did not compute.' He shook his head. 'The problem was, it was different…' He looked away, not sure he had it in him to explain to her exactly what he meant by that. It had made him feel different. 'She owed me nothing. Her attention, such that it was, was strangely addictive. And it amused me to cultivate it, I do not deny it. Towards the end, we would spend hours talking.'

To shield himself from the scrutiny, he put his hand over his brow and rubbed at it. He chuckled under his breath. 'Merlin, those talks…' In this very room. He could see them both now, if he wanted to. Her pontificating, and he, by turns, deliberately facetious and earnestly curious. He was sure he must have done his own share of pontificating, mind. He pulled his hand away and straightened up in the chair, venturing a look. Minerva was watching him with raised eyebrows. He smiled inwardly; it was worth his discomfort to know he could still surprise his old friend.

'Eventually, I knew I - it - could not go on as it was.' He shrugged to himself. 'As you know, I could not spend the rest of my life holed up in here, hiding. There was a decision to make and I decided that Granger should - would - have no influence in it.'

'So, she wasn't part of it?'

'Of course not, she had no idea; the same as you. She, ah, wrote to me several times after, but I never replied.'

Minerva sighed loudly. 'Really, Severus?'

'I'm not proud, but it was necessary.'

'Why was it necessary? What was she expecting to happen between you?'

'I don't know -'

She tutted loudly and at her continued look of consternation, he threw his hands up. 'The point is Minerva, I didn't want to find out. I was a bitter, resentful excuse for a man that, in-case you have forgotten, was also supposed to be dead!' He sighed at length. 'I had to sort myself out, and it was for myself to work out who I was and what I was. It was not for her to do that. She was burdened enough as it was, by the war; I could see that I was only adding to it. I didn't want her to be associated with me, in any way. Enough people have been hurt by me over the years, she would not be another one on the list.'

Minerva said nothing. He noted that she plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve.

'In any case, if I recall correctly, she was married to Weasley a year later.'

He was not sure why brought that up. He fought hard not to shrink under the subsequent glare he received.

'Their marriage was an unmitigated disaster, Severus - they were divorced within two years, as you well know!'

He shrugged flippantly.

'And I'm pretty sure there's never been anyone else,' Minerva murmured to herself, pensively.

No words were spoken for a time. He broke the silence first in an effort to derail his own train of thought, which was in danger of veering towards the fanciful. 'It was the right thing at the right time, Minerva. You surely have not forgotten the terms of my sentence?'

'It was never a life sentence, Severus. You sought me out afterwards - why not her as well?'

'I knew you would welcome it.'

He heard her sigh a little. Well it was true; she was the only person he could count in the world who did care for his well-being.

'And what about now?' She prompted.

'Now?'

She nodded.

He gaped. 'Now, nothing, obviously! Minerva, I am telling you this tale simply because you asked. It was a flight of fancy following an intense time. The water has long since flowed under the bridge. So, Professor Granger holds a grudge like the best of us, who knew? Who cares?'

'Your flippancy does you no credit. Hermione cares, clearly, because despite your wishes you obviously did hurt her all those years ago. Why would she nurse that hurt if she did not care about you?'

He had no answer to that, except that, suddenly, he felt like his heart beat in his ears instead of his chest.

'Well?'

'Minerva, we parted as acquaintances. There was nothing between us, no understanding, no declaration - nothing.'

This is what he had told himself time again. In his lowest moments, he had allowed himself the fancy that those words were not entirely true. And now as he said them aloud, after all these years, he considered if the fancy could actually have lain in conceiving those words in the first place.

Nevertheless, he doubled down. 'Her pride was hurt, no doubt. But better that than anything else I could have induced.'

'But you are different now. You have made a new life for yourself. That which was lost might yet be found again.'

He stared at her incredulously.

'I would happily go to my grave knowing I was leaving you happy, Severus. It pains me to think you have never known it.'

He felt a sharp clench somewhere near his ribs at this. For a time he could not speak, but when his stomach relaxed again, he found his voice.

'You can't outrun the past, Minerva; believe me. Try as you might, it's always there.'

'But it doesn't have to rule the present. You know that now.'

'Perhaps.' At her scornful look, he shifted in his chair. 'Very well, I do know that now.'

'You have hidden away from the Wizarding World for long enough now, don't you think?'

He wasn't sure what to say to that. His return had purely been for Minerva's sake, that is what he thought - what he told himself. He had not given any conscious thought as to who or what else he might find at Hogwarts. His intention was to return to his life as he knew it, when he was able. That is what he thought - what he told himself, anyway.

Minerva seemed to take his silence for indecision and she huffed brightly. 'Right; so, then, you leave things to me.'

He flinched violently and leaned forward in earnest. 'No, please -'

'Severus -'

'She clearly holds only contempt for me now!'

'Nonsense!' Minerva scoffed loudly. 'You forget that I know her better than you. She has nursed this hurt for all these years, yet, she has never mentioned any of it to me! No, my boy, her contempt is paper thin, you mark my words!'

He stared in horror as she positively wriggled with excitement and squeezed his hand tightly.

'Do not worry, I will be discreet. If you give her the opportunity, Hermione will be able to see things from your perspective, Severus. She is not a selfish person.'

She looked at him and her expression became stern. He knew what was coming, having been in receipt of it many times before - a rebuke.

'But you should have written to her, Severus, irrespective of what might or might not have come from it.'

He clenched his jaw and turned his head stiffly to watch the flames in the fireplace. That she was right, of course, was obvious. He knew it then and he knew it now.

And he had, in actual fact, written many times… But each missive had either seen its fate in the flames or obliterated into fine pieces - actions torn from him in a fits of pique, shame, and hopelessness.

He turned his attention back to the bed, whereupon Minerva gave him an encouraging smile. He managed a brief, resigned quirk of his mouth in reply. Having her support might actually make the difference, he thought. Minerva had belief, where he had none, and maybe he could take inspiration from it.

Which, in turn, allowed him a small prickle of hope.

That both thrilled and frightened him at the same time.


AN: Thanks for your comments, and thanks for reading : )