47. Spinner's End

I woke up the next morning when the birds were singing and the sky was silvery with clouds. It was before breakfast-time, but through the window I could see that smoke was rising from Hagrid's chimney, so I pulled on my heavy cloak and went down the hill to visit him and the wolves.

He opened the door with an exhausted but happy look on his face. The mother wolf was sleeping soundly in front of the fire, and her little one was curled up against her belly. There was a visible line where the wound had been, but it was no longer bleeding, and looked well on its way to healing fully.

Hagrid's kneazle Pouncer, who had been out hunting last night, was now sitting up on the table, eyeing the wolves with a pinch of jealousy, but no fear or ill will.

"Cut off from their pack, seems like," he said, after I'd told him the full story of how I'd happened upon them. "It's my guess she was hurt in a fight of some sort. Poor things. Don't know if it would be best to take them back to where they were. They can roam in the forest here. And maybe they'll take a liking to me…"

Hagrid did not come to breakfast in the great hall that morning, but come lunchtime he brought both wolves with him from his cabin, wanting to introduce them to everyone. They had indeed taken a liking to him, and I was very surprised by how easily they approached humans. The little one was more sociable, quickly getting over its wariness of people, and taking a particular interest in me. I secretly fed it a couple of scraps from my plate, but not too many–I didn't want it to be ill. The mother took a bit longer to let her guard down, but was eventually curled up rather happily near Hagrid.

I kept checking the Marauders' Map throughout the day, watching to see whether Severus had returned. But by the looks of it, he was nowhere on the grounds. I wondered where he was.

Neville remained as upset as he had been the night before, and discouraged me from trying to find Severus, correctly deducing why I was staring at the map over dinner.

"Severus is a good man at heart," Luna said, ever the peacemaker.

Neville shook his head. "I care more about his actions than his heart. He's a bully."

I couldn't deny the truth of that, and had heard enough about Neville's difficulties with Severus in school to know not to try explaining my view of things to him.

Despite the brutality of the argument, it hadn't changed how deeply I wanted to understand Severus, to understand the pain he kept tightly hidden. It had to be very deep, I knew, to make him say such things. I had been hurt by him at first, and doubted even now that I would ever fully forgive him for what he'd said about Remus. But now that the argument was over, I only wanted to see him again, to make sure he was alright.

Perhaps I would have felt different had he struck me. In fact, I was sure that I would have. However, though his words had made deep cuts, I was glad that they had at least been true. He'd meant everything he'd said–none of it had been fabricated to deceive me, to keep me at a distance. It had been our first full-blooded argument, where both our hearts were fully in it. That was what made it forgivable.

"When he returns," Minerva said shortly, "he will owe you a very sincere apology."

After two days he had still not returned. And I realised, with a feeling of idiocy for having not remembered it before, that he was probably staying in that house he'd taken me to after he'd found me in No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and I'd chased the wolf through the woods. The house where I'd had my miscarriage.

I decided to go in the afternoon the next day. I left the castle when everyone else was busy, knowing it would look bad to be seen going after him, after what had happened between us. My efforts to slip away unnoticed were successful.

I remembered that Severus's house was attached to the floo network, but wouldn't have known what to call the place. So I would have to apparate instead.

Once I was outside the bounds of Hogwarts, I closed my eyes and called to mind the bridge where we'd landed. The water flowing underneath it, and the willow weeping over the riverbank.

I landed exactly there, in the centre of the bridge. When I'd been there last it had been midwinter, and the scene was quite different now that it was spring. Though it was overcast the sun shone lightly through the clouds. The trees which had been barren and naked were now approaching full leaf, the green haze thick and healthy. The sound of the river was deeper, and I thought I heard faint strains of laughter in its song.

She crosses the bridge, does her best to navigate the town. The streets and houses looked quite different when it was not dark and raining, and I could recall none of the signs. I tried not to look suspicious, but attracted a few long glances from the few people who were out and about. Eventually, with great focus, I found myself in the street where we had ended up, and located Severus's house.

I entered the alleyway and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Making sure I was certain that this was his house before I did so, and guarding my wand from the street, I unlocked the door myself and boldly went inside.

There was an air of ruin and danger, even in the small entryway. The clock which had hung on the wall had been shattered, and the table by the door had been thrown down, one leg snapped. The scene reminded me sharply of how Death Eaters had raided houses during the war, and I felt an instinctive terror rising in my chest. I looked up the staircase, where pale light poured down from the window on the first landing. "Severus?" I called fearfully.

No answer.

Closing the door behind me, I climbed the stairs, looking urgently into each doorway until I finally came to the room at the end of the hall.

He was there, in the midst of a terrible mess. Broken glass and books were strewn across the floor. The only thing which had not been upturned was the chair in which he sat, staring into the dead black fireplace.

"Severus?" I said, stepping cautiously into the room. My heart was still pounding. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

He did not turn around. His body was so still, and his silence so long, that I was not sure if he had heard me.

"Get out," came the quiet words.

I gathered my breath, realising now that the mess was his own creation. "So, are you going to leave me, too?" I asked him.

"If that is what you wish," he said to the cold maw of the fireplace.

"I don't wish it. I want you to come back. I want you to speak with me."

He remained silent, still. I perceived some deep pain inside of him. I stepped forward into the room, but saw him flinch minutely at the sound of my approach. I stopped. "Let me stay with you," I offered. "I'll make you some tea."

"No."

I looked at the window, taking in the cold white light from the street, and around at the books, the shattered glass of the lamp. I remembered how haunted he'd looked when he'd stayed here last, and my question came out of me unbidden. "What is this place?"

There was another long pause before he spoke. "You should not be here."

His voice was hoarse. I wanted to look into his face, but did not approach him further. "And should you?"

"That is my concern alone." His voice was awfully quiet. "Now, please, get out."

I didn't know what this place was to him, but thought perhaps I should obey him and give him the privacy he'd come to find–however unhealthy. I turned away from him silently and went with quiet footsteps back downstairs. I repaired the clock, and returned the table to its legs. I looked back up the stairs worriedly before going out the door and locking it behind me.

Two more days passed and still he did not return. I wanted to give him the distance he had asked for, afraid that forcing him would result in another argument. But the thought of him sitting in that terrible room alone made me anxious. Our argument seemed to have driven him back to a place where he no longer belonged, and I didn't want him to stay there if his only reason was to avoid me.

I decided to write a letter to him. There was a risk that he would tear it into pieces or burn it before he even opened it. But if he did read it, I knew it would be more difficult for him to ignore than a patronus.

Severus,

Please don't stay in that place alone. I will come and help you clean up if you would be agreeable. If not, please come back to Hogwarts. We cannot continue as we have done, and if anything is to change, we cannot avoid each other.

I am sorry for my part, and though I cannot yet forgive you fully for your own, I would like to begin.

Please come back. We don't have to speak at once.

Wilma.

I read the letter over many times, making sure it meant what I wanted it to, and then sent it off with one of the school owls. The owl returned later the same day, having been fed, but carrying no response.