1998, November 7th
It's been over a month since Minerva down right refused to let him 'jeopardize his future for the sake of saving face,' her words. Which completely eliminated any choice he may have had in the matter. So, he's spent his time wisely pursuing his studies like a good little student in the hopes of being rid of the school once and for all, next June. She wasn't at all happy about him not giving all the details when they asked for them originally either.
"You kept this from us for nearly five months, Severus, this would have been very valuable information if we had known it while examining you last Spring." She had said, her pointed hat seemed to bristle along with her.
"Did she give you any inkling as to who this supposed soul-tie may be?"
"No." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, "I do not intend to find out who either."
"That would be a mistake, the poor woman is probably having issues of her own because of this tie she has to you." She said, "Soul-ties are not much different to unbreakable vows, except that they can be felt."
"Well it doesn't matter right now either way because I need to focus on passing my N.E.W.T's." He stood from his place across from her desk, "If that will be all, I do have studies to get to since you refuse to let me study privately elsewhere."
"I still think that there's a very good possibility that this tie of yours is also here at Hogwarts." Dumbleodres portrait chimed in, his eyes twinkling as they always do.
"What do you mean, Albus?" Minerva said, turning to face him, "A student?"
"Yes."
"Preposterous." She laughed, "In what world would that make any sense at all, I do believe you've grown senile in your old age."
"It's not unlikely."
Severus felt a chill run down his spine. The idea that the soul-tie could be someone at Hogwarts was unsettling. He had always prided himself on his ability to control his surroundings, but this was something beyond his grasp. He cut in before Minerva could comment further.
"Even if that were true, it doesn't matter," Severus said, trying to keep his voice steady, "It changes nothing. I will not be distracted by this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have many other things I would rather be doing than sit here and listen to you speak about things I do not wish to hear."
Minerva sighed, her stern expression softening just a bit. "Very well, Severus. But do keep in mind that ignoring it won't make it go away."
He nodded curtly and left the office, the weight of their words pressing down on him. As he walked through the corridors, he couldn't help but glance at the faces of the students he passed. Could one of them be tied to him in such an inexplicable way?
Severus grumbled to himself, glaring at every person he walked past as he went. The idea of a soul-tie, especially one that could be affecting someone else, was an unwelcome complication. He couldn't afford distractions, not with his N.E.W.T.s looming. The thought that his soul-tie might be a student was even more unsettling.
As he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, he couldn't help but replay the conversation in his mind. Minerva's insistence that he should find out who the soul-tie was linked to, gnawed at him. He had no desire to form any more connections than necessary, especially one that could complicate his already precarious position.
The next few days were a blur of intense study sessions and sleepless nights. Severus buried himself in his textbooks, determined to excel in his exams. But the nagging thought of the soul-tie lingered at the back of his mind, a constant distraction.
One evening, as he was studying in the library, he glanced up at Granger sitting across from him, deeply engrossed in a book. They had begun sharing the same table in the Library after he approached her hoping that her presence would sway the onlookers to give him a break from being constantly stared at. Her presence was a reminder of the complicated relationships he had with many of his past students. He couldn't help but wonder if one of them could be the person tied to him. The thought was both absurd and unnerving.
As the days turned into weeks, Severus found himself increasingly aware of the people around him. He started to notice small things—a fleeting glance from Hannah Abbott, a smile from Luna Lovegood, a moment of understanding with Daphne Greengrass. Each interaction, no matter how insignificant, made him question whether they could be the person linked to him.
Despite his best efforts to focus solely on his studies, the mystery of the soul-tie became an obsession. Determined to find answers, Severus decided to confront the issue head-on. He began to research soul-ties in the restricted section of the library, hoping to find a way to sever the connection without causing harm to the other person. But the more he learned, the more he realized that the bond was not something that could be easily broken.
One night, as he sat alone in the common room, he felt a sudden wave of emotion that wasn't his own. That was new. It was a feeling of loneliness and longing, so intense that it took his breath away. He knew then that the soul-tie was real and that the other person was struggling just as much as he was.
The common room of Gryffindor tower stood empty, lit by the warm glow of the flickering fire. Severus sat in an armchair by the fireplace, a small flask of Firewhisky in his hand. Thank Merlin, his private stores in the dungeons were left untouched after the Battle.
He took a deep swig from the flask, feeling the familiar burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. It took a while to get used to the burn of the alcohol again, he never did like it as a teen but with his continued presence at Malfoy Manor and Lucius' constant influence, he grew to enjoy the drink. It had become a nightly ritual for him now, an attempt to drown his frustrations in the warm burn of the drink. Usually he hid away on the dusty floor of his private stores with his back pressed against a wall of potion ingredients. Tonight however, was Remembrance Saturday, which granted him free reign of the Tower since every Gryffindor was in Hogsmeade lighting candles for fallen Aurors.
Every day that passed only seemed to strengthen that damnable soul-tie.
He leaned back in the armchair and took another swig, his mind replaying the day's events. Another day wasted, lost to the endless monotony of studies and a barrage of stares from curious students. The soul-tie, the constant presence that now resided deep within him, had become a near-permanent companion. It was a silent reminder, a constant presence, tugging at his consciousness. Frustration and irritation simmered within him. Every aspect of his life seemed to be dominated by the damnable soul-tie. It affected his sleep, his focus, even his ability to enjoy a simple drink in peace. Everything had been turned upside down.
He took another large gulp from the flask, the fiery liquid warming his throat. Damn it all. What he wouldn't give to be free from this burden, what he wouldn't give to turn back time only a few weeks when he was purposefully oblivious to the bond.
He chuckled wryly to himself, the alcohol starting to take effect. Life had been simpler then—studying, teaching, and avoiding Minerva's endless badgering. But now, every aspect of his life seemed to be touched by the soul-tie in some way.
He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. But the bond remained, a persistent presence like an irritating insect buzzing in his ear. He could feel it, jealousy rang in his ears. Whoever she was, whatever she was doing, he could feel every dominating emotion she had. He took another long draught from the flask, hoping the alcohol would dull his senses.
A bonfire raged in the center of Hogsmeade Square, the flames dancing wildly into the night sky. Shadows moved across the cobblestones as people gathered around the fire, red poppy flowers pinned to their chests in silent tribute.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke and pine, blending with the faint smell of butterbeer and fried food. Laughter and chatter rose in volume as more people gathered around the fire. The atmosphere was festive, a stark contrast to Hermione's mood. She longed for the comforting presence of Ginny or Harry, but they were both off somewhere doing what couples tended to do at festivities. She felt unbearably alone.
She wrapped her arms more securely around herself, the breeze was biting.
Ron threw his head back and laughed at something Romilda Vane said, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. She watched as Romilda adjusted Ron's poppy flower and her hand lingered on his chest. The sight made Hermione's stomach twist into knots. It was all too much.
She had always known he had a roving eye, but this felt different. This felt like a betrayal. Luna's words echoed in her mind like a bitter prophecy. She had known this would happen, but somehow that made it feel worse.
Hermione clenched her fists. The sight of Romilda's hand on Ron's chest, of their shared laughter and closeness... it was a dagger to the heart. She had believed Ron when he said they'd start something serious after graduation. But here he was, flirting shamelessly with another girl.
She longed to march over and confront him, to demand an explanation. But something held her back. A stubborn sense of pride. Or perhaps it was fear of being hurt even more. She wanted to flee, to bury herself in a quiet corner until the pain subsided.
The laughter and chatter faded into the background as Hermione wrestled with her feelings. As she stood there, torn between anger and sadness, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Luna standing beside her, a knowing look glimmering in her eyes. Neville stood not too far behind Luna with a flower pot in his hands.
Luna's presence was a soothing balm to Hermione's troubled mind. The blonde girls' usually dreamy expression was replaced by a look of sympathetic understanding.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Luna asked, her eyes trained on her face.
"Yes." Hermione said solemnly, wiping a stray tear from her eye, "I think I'm going to call it a night, will you tell Dean and Seamus to escort everyone back to the castle after the festivities are over."
Luna nodded silently, her eyes lingering on Hermione's face for a moment longer. There was a knowing wisdom in her gaze, as if she understood the storm of emotions that were raging within Hermione, her expression sympathetic but not pitying.
"Of course," She said quietly.
Neville, who had been silent up until now, spoke up suddenly, "I can walk you back to the castle if you like. I need to put this in the greenhouse so I can start replanting it in the morning."
Hermione gave a weak smile, "Thank you, Neville, I'd appreciate that. I just need to let Harry and Ginny know I'm leaving, I'll be right back."
"I'll wait for you at Tomes and Scrolls."
Hermione nodded her thanks and turned away from the bonfire and pushed her way through the throngs of people. She spotted Harry and Ginny standing near one of the food stalls, Harry with an arm around Ginny's waist, their heads bent together locked in a deep conversation. They looked so content in each other's company, it made her heart ache.
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat as she approached her friends. Ginny looked up as if sensing Hermione's approach.
"Alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked, concern etching her features.
"I'm alright, just a bit tired," Hermione said, pasting on a brave smile. "I just came to say good night. I'm heading back to the castle."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, sensing the underlying tension in Hermione's voice. Harry spoke up, his voice gentle.
"Are you sure? We were planning on sticking around for a while. You're welcome to join us if you want."
Hermione shook her head, her voice steady despite the turmoil within, "No, it's alright. I've got some homework I need to catch up on anyway."
Harry looked like he wanted to say more, but Ginny gave him a discreet look, silently telling him not to press. She glanced back over to Hermione and tilted her head in question. Was her pain really so obvious? Did she wear her heart on her sleeve?
Hermione tightened her lips in a forced smile. "I'll see you in the dormitory."
She turned on her heel before either of them decided to press further, taking a deep breath and she forced her eyes to look anywhere but in the direction she knew Ron and Romilda were standing.
She found Neville exactly where he said he'd be standing near the entrance to Tomes and Scrolls, his back arched against the wind and his face tucked into the soft warmth of his scarf. He smiled at her as she approached, a kind, friendly smile. She often wondered why her poor wretched heart couldn't have picked him to fall in love with. Someone kind and gentle. Someone loyal.
"Hermione," Neville greeted when he saw her approach. His eyes flicked over her face, taking in her slightly red-rimmed eyes and the tight line of her mouth. It was obvious she was distressed.
"Ready?" He asked tentatively, offering her his arm.
She wrapped her hand around his arm, grateful for his presence. She would have to remind Luna what a lucky girl she was. Neville was indeed a catch.
"Ready," She said quietly, and they set off down the cobbled street.
Upon reaching Gryffindor tower, Hermione found herself alone; Neville had excused himself, citing chores in the greenhouse. A pang of loneliness tugged at her, but she quickly pushed it aside.
Neville was now assisting Professor Sprout with her gardening and even aiding her with her teaching. Apparently she offered him an apprenticeship. He seemed rather excited about it, since that's all he could talk about the entire walk back to the castle. It was a welcomed distraction. It made her wonder what she would be doing with the rest of her life. She had many aspirations and many paths to choose from, but in the last two years she has changed. She wasn't the same person she was before. War changed her. Being on the run for such an extended amount of time, changed her. She didn't know what she wanted to do now.
She wasn't alone for long, there in the armchair by the blazing hearth was Snape with his face lit by the firelight, a silver flask hanging from his fingers. He looked worn out and tired with large dark bags under his eyes and a slouched posture. It had to be at least a week since she had seen him last outside classes. She was beginning to assume he was avoiding her but quickly squashed that thought after realizing it probably had a lot to do with avoiding everyone after leaving class so abruptly a month or so ago.
He started at the sight of her, but his surprise was quickly masked with indifference.
"I assumed no one would be back until well after midnight." He said, and straightened in his seat, his eyes flickering back to the fire.
Hermione stared, seeing Snape alone in the common room was unexpected. His hair was unusually disheveled, and there was a slight flush on his pallid cheeks. She didn't have to wonder what was troubling him so much that it made him drink. The anniversary of Harry's parents' deaths was a week ago, which could also explain why she hadn't seen him outside of classes or even in the Library as of late.
"I have some reading to do," She replied, her voice soft. She took a step further into the room, feeling a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He was acting strange, but she knew she could place the blame for that at whatever alcohol he had in his flask.
Snape glanced at her again, his gaze traveling over her weary face. He studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, he could sense her inner turmoil, the gears shifting in that bushy head of hers.
"It's Saturday." He said, his voice tinged with skepticism. Snape raised an eyebrow, not buying her explanation. He regarded her for a moment, taking a long sip from his flask before speaking again.
"My tolerance isn't what it used to be." He said, looking down at the silver flask with distaste.
"I imagine." She said, studying him silently.
He raised the flask in the air towards her. "Drink?"
He could feel her eyes boring into him, but thanks to the Firewhiskey his vision was beginning to blur and he couldn't quite make out the expression on her face. Though he could register her surprise simply from her sharp intake of breath.
And despite her surprise, she found herself nodding.
"Alright," She said, her voice a touch uncertain. "But just one."
She moved closer to the fire, perching herself on the edge of the armchair opposite Snape's, and took the flask from his long fingers. With a hesitating glance in his direction, her eyes meeting his as he watched her, she rose the flask to her lips and poured a small amount into her mouth.
He watched as she took a cautious sip from it. The sight of her taking a drink from his own flask stirred an odd flicker of something within him. He quickly banished the thought and returned his gaze to the fire.
"Careful," He warned, his voice low. "It's strong."
She sputtered and coughed as it hit her tongue and shoved the flask back in his direction. That was awful.
Hermione's reaction to the strong drink brought out a rare smirk on Snape's face. He took the flask that she handed back to him and chuckled softly.
"Told you," He said, his voice laced with amusement. He raised the flask to his lips and took a long sip, his pale throat bobbing as he swallowed.
Hermione dropped into the chair with a huff of her breath.
He studied her in the moments that followed, the silence in the room only broken by the crackle of the fire. He noted the way she fidgeted, picking at a loose thread on the arm of the chair. Something was clearly bothering her.
Normally, he would have been content to remain silent, but, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself uncharacteristically curious. He took another sip from his flask before speaking.
"Out with it," He said, his voice low and gravelly. "What's troubling you?"
Hermione looked up at him, surprise flickering across her face at his unexpected question. She fidgeted further, twirling the loose thread around her finger.
"I...it's nothing," She mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
But Snape wasn't one to be easily fooled. He raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes boring into her.
"Granger," He said, his voice a touch more stern. "You're a terrible liar."
Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping as she realized he wasn't going to let it go. She stared into the fire for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
"It's just...Ron and I..." She trailed off, the words catching in her throat. She glanced back at him, "If a guy loves a girl and she gave him every chance to be with her, would he want to wait to be together?"
Snape's expression softened almost imperceptibly as he met the vulnerability in her gaze. He took a slow sip from his flask, contemplating her question.
"Love is never simple," He said after a moment, his voice steady and laced with a hint of bitterness. "But if a man truly loves a woman, he shouldn't need time to decide if he wants to be with her."
"That's what I thought." She turned her eyes back to the fire.
Snape observed her, the flicker of the fire dancing across her features. He could practically taste the disappointment on her.
"Men," He muttered, his voice tinged with discomfort. "They're incapable of seeing what's right in front of them until it's been taken away."
There was a moment of silent understanding. Snape's words seemed to hang heavy in the air, a bitter truth he knew all too well, judging by the subtle tension in his jaw.
Hermione, in turn, felt her frustration and disappointment gradually replaced with a small pang of empathy.
Snape finally broke the silence with a long sigh as he stood up. Towering over her he held the flask out to her, peering through his curtain of black hair down at her. "Good night, Granger."
She took the flask from him slowly and watched him ascend the staircase. "Goodnight, Snape."