Hope is a Dangerous Thing

Six

2008

Today, he had been summoned to the castle.

Initially, the sight of the owl had made his throat clench with dread, but he soon saw the Headmistress's own hand on the missive. Nevertheless, the dread lingered at realising his presence was being requested for afternoon tea. Severus crumpled up the parchment and grimaced. Afternoon tea was not something he would ordinarily indulge in. However, he was at a disadvantage, in that he felt he could not refuse the wishes of his old friend. It was one of the few ways he knew how to express his gratitude to her.

So it was that he found himself walking up through the grounds later that Sunday afternoon. There was an unseasonable warmth to the Autumnal sun and even he could feel his mood lift a little. There were smatterings of children about and he drew some furtive glances that he resolutely ignored.

What he could not ignore, however, was the sound of his name being called.

'Over here, Severus!'

He swore under his breath at what he saw. They were sitting down by the lake—'they' being the Headmistress and her deputy. Minerva was sat bundled up in a wheelchair, a garish tartan blanket covering her legs, whilst Professor Granger sat atop an equally garish blanket that laid on the ground.

Minerva studiously avoided his glare as he approached. He knew exactly what he was walking into—meddling, pure and simple. He received only a cursory glance from Granger herself—a blank upwards lift of her head—before she returned her attention to what he could see in her lap was a pile of knitting. By the sudden whitening of her knuckles as she gripped her needles, he could tell she had also been caught unawares.

'Take a seat,' Minerva instructed brightly.

'Where?'

'There,' she replied, as if he were a first-year, pointing at her side and handing him another garish blanket.

'I'm pushing fifty, Minerva,' he grumbled, folding himself down onto the ground.

He was resolutely ignored.

A tray suddenly appeared before them adorned with all manner of cakes, biscuits and sandwiches.

'There,' said Minerva. 'This will keep you happy.'

He could not argue with that and took a pasty, looking at her. 'Are you well enough to be outside?'

'It does me good to get out into the fresh air. I won't be out here long, but it is such a lovely day today.'

There was silence then and it seemed to his mind a little stilted. Minerva seemed happily oblivious, focusing her attention on applying jam to her scone. Professor Granger had put down her knitting and was holding a teacup. Her eyes were directed to the shoreline of the lake, however, and was obviously determined to say nothing. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Severus decided to simply concentrate on his pasty.

When he was done with that, he picked up a cauldron cake next. Instead of eating it, though, he found himself considering it, turning it in his fingers. His favourite, but he hadn't had one in years. There were no cauldron cakes in his life anymore, he thought sardonically. He recalled someone had made him a whole plateful, once. His eyes flicked across to her and he was not surprised to see that she was observing his contemplation. At her unreadable expression, however, he felt he could not hold her look for long. He blinked and put the cake down, turning to his tea instead.

He just about managed to suppress a flinch when, in a moment, Granger's knitting flew from her lap and she suddenly was on her feet, marching across the grass.

'I saw that!' She shouted to a group of boys lurking by the lake. One boy was sopping wet.

Minerva smiled. 'Do you ever miss that, Severus?' She was watching Granger remonstrate with her charges.

'Oh, every day,' he replied dryly.

'They will need someone to teach Potions when Hermione becomes Headmistress.'

He inwardly blanched and decided not to dignify the comment with a response. 'She will have big shoes to fill,' he said eventually, changing the subject slightly.

'She is young, but I have full confidence in her ability.'

For what it was worth, so did he, but he did not offer his opinion aloud. What did he know, anyway? His own experience could not count for much, not really. Most days it felt like a distant memory, admittedly less so sat in the shadow of the castle itself, but still. He felt relieved to be removed from it and had no desire to return to it. As he continued to watch the goings on by the lake, he wondered if this, being back here, was now the test - the test of whether he had indeed accepted his mistakes and moved on, grown from them, or whether he had simply run from them.

He felt a bubble of irritation at the painful irony that he could have run all this time in a circle, to end up right back at the start. Mired once again in painful memories and resentment of the happiness of others.

'Minerva, why did you engineer this?' He demanded. 'She does not want to spend time with me.'

'I haven't engineered anything. I simply wish to spend time with my friends.'

He scowled disbelievingly at her. 'I've known first-years with more guile.'

She had the grace to laugh. 'My dear Severus, we can't all be so blessed as you when it comes to cunning and guile.'

'More's the pity,' he grumbled to himself.

'Think of it simply as… an ice-breaker.' She glanced over the top of her glasses at him speculatively.

He glared back. 'It has never felt icier.'

'Well, I can't do everything… You will need to have some input!' There was the sound of footsteps, then, and Minerva suddenly twisted around in her chair. 'Ah! Here is Poppy.'

Severus looked to see the former school matron walking towards them. He jumped to his feet.

'Severus!' She beamed. 'How lovely to see you!'

'Poppy, you look well.' He took her outstretched hand warmly.

'It's been far too long.'

'Indeed,' he acknowledged.

Minerva let out a yawn. 'I'm sure you two can find time to catch up later. I think I need a nap now.'

'Already?' he exclaimed in surprise. And she had the temerity to deny any meddling?

'Indeed, shall we return inside, Poppy?'

Severus saw Granger had returned and stood there watching them, silently.

'Come on, then,' ushered Poppy, taking out her wand and levitating the chair to follow her.

'Finish off the cakes, Severus!' Minerva called over her shoulder.

Severus scowled at the floating form of the Headmistress. 'The little subtlety she had has certainly been lost in old age.'

'Am I missing something?' asked Hermione, also watching the retreating form of the Headmistress.

Severus felt his jaw clench in indecision. 'I, ah, should tell you that I told Minerva of our past… acquaintance.'

Her eyebrows lifted marginally. 'Yes, I am aware of that.'

This was a surprise. Clearly, Minerva's scheming knew no bounds and he had greatly underestimated her intentions. 'I did not have much choice; she would not let it be. I assure you, I did not go into minute detail—it was very much a…gist.'

She blurted out a laugh then. 'A gist, eh?' She smoothed her hands down her robes and set herself to banishing the trays and folding up the blankets. 'I am sure I would have liked to hear your attempt at a gist.'

She stared defiantly at him now. He felt his throat dry out and an odd pain clench in his stomach—he knew he must be transfixed. She looked beautiful again, even in her defiance. It was his wish, he realised, that she would not look upon him with such contempt. He could bear it from others, but not from her. He made to speak, but found his throat closing up tightly and no words would come.

It was only when she abruptly turned to leave, that he felt his brain switch on again. 'Must you rush off?'

She paused at that and turned back around.

He swallowed uncomfortably. 'I would like to… That is to say, I am sorry for how things were left between us,' he said plainly, taking a step towards her. 'I regret that decisions I made caused you…hurt.'

She looked momentarily disarmed by his directness, before a contemplative expression took control. He felt she was likely assessing his sincerity, and he wondered if she might now try to deny that she was hurt. It would have been superfluous, however, it positively exuded from her.

'Very well,' she acknowledged eventually, with a small dip of her head, 'thank you.'

He felt a small release of tension, grateful that it had not cost him much to say the truth for once. Indeed, he rather thought he felt better for it. He knew there was more he should say - more he wanted to say - yet, he had no idea where to start. He wished she would say something, anything, that might start him off on the right track. But she said nothing further and the silence elongated into something unbearably awkward.

'I should… I have things to attend to,' she said, 'good day to you.'

He gave a resigned nod, feeling a deep sense of frustration and disappointment. He observed her progress back up to the castle for a time, her step never faltering, before spinning on his heel and marching down to the gates, swearing at himself for his uselessness.

Minerva must be mistaken, he thought. The matter must be dropped. He would tell her to leave it be. Hope always turned to disappointment. He had come too far to once again allow himself to be mired in resentment. He didn't want to live another life like that.

Nothing was worth that.