Judgement and Guilt
A heart is a heavy burden. – Diana Wynne Jones
"Wake up, you tosspot!"
Harry woke with a start as Ron was shaking him vigorously by the shoulders.
"Whatimzit?" he grumbled, opening one bleary eye.
"It's thirty-seven past eight, we're expected to start work at nine, and we're going to miss breakfast at this rate! Get up!"
"Awright, ammup. Gimme a minnit," Harry groaned. His head was pounding. Firewhisky. Great idea indeed, he thought to himself.
Harry was sharing a room in the Hufflepuff dorm with Ron, Neville and Seamus, as well as a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seventh-years, and, unexpectedly, Draco Malfoy. Hermione and Ginny slept in another room with several other girls from all four houses. A week after the battle, Professor Sprout had suggested that the students who chose to remain and help with the repairs be re-housed to the Hufflepuff Basement, as both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers had been too damaged to be used as living quarters. However, a thorny problem had presented itself when Draco and two Slytherin girls had volunteered to help alongside the others.
"There's no way we're sharing a dorm with that lot," Terry Boots had protested, met by loud mumbles of assent.
Of all Gryffindors, only Neville had disagreed. "I don't have a problem with it," he'd said quietly.
"Well, they don't need to stay with us, anyway," Pavarti had chimed in. "The Slytherin dungeon hasn't been damaged. They can use that, it's theirs, after all. I don't fancy sleeping next to Millicent Bulstrode or Tracey Davis."
However, the Hufflepuffs had put their foot down.
"Now more than ever, we need to stay united. If they're here and they want to help, they're with us, not against us. And this is our dorm, what we say goes," Susan Bones had stated sternly. The rest of her house shared her views, and that had settled the matter, although the three Slytherins were still regarded suspiciously by the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws.
Harry looked around the now-familiar circular room. Strikingly different from the grandeur of the Gryffindor Tower, it had a lush cosiness that reminded him of a Hobbit house. The low ceiling was supported by arched wooden beams; soft woollen rugs, woven in intricate plant patterns, covered the clay floor tiles. Delicate carvings decorated the doorframes, and stained-glass lamps bathed the room in a warm golden glow. He sat up and let out a loud yawn.
"Will you just get a move on?" Ron pressed him.
"Give it rest, Ron. I'm up, kay?" Harry said as he grabbed some grubby work robes and pulled them over his head.
"And about bloody time! In case you haven't noticed, we've got a castle to repair. While you and Hermione were saving Snape and getting hammered, some of us did actual work, you know!" Ron snapped.
"Oi, calm down, will you?" Harry felt his temper rising as they left the room.
"Why should I, since the pair of you seem to think Snape's so wonderful that he's worth wasting a whole day's work for!"
"Have you not listened to anything I said, Ron? Snape – is – on – our – side! He was Dumbledore's the whole time, spied for him and risked his life in the process!"
"Well, excuse me if I don't swoon over your new hero! It's all so bloody easy, don't you see? If You-Know-Who had won, Snape could have sided with him just as easily!"
Just then Hermione joined them and cast Ron a sharp look. "Are you going on about Professor Snape again? How often do we have to go through this, honestly!"
"As long as you act like he's some kind of romantic hero!" Ron barked as they reached the Common Room and made for the long wooden table. "If he was as great as you all seem to think now, he would have done more to protect us, to protect Ginny! Did you hear what the school was like with him in charge? I bet the twisted old git enjoyed it!"
"Oh, it's about me, is it?" Ginny chimed in as she sat next to Harry, brushing her fingers on the nape of his neck. "Well, for what it's worth, when I tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor, Snape sent me to do detention with Hagrid, who he knew was on our side. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he'd have handed me to the Carrows – that would have been something else, trust me."
"Oh, so you're on Snape's side too? I just give up," shrugged Ron as he piled toast, sausages and eggs on his plate.
The four friends wolfed down their breakfast and headed for the greenhouses, were their fellow students, under the directions of Professor Flitwick, were using a strong charm to gather the shattered glass and weave it back together. It was tedious and dangerous work, because the scattered pieces, being imbued with Hogwarts magic, had a tendency to either fly in all directions, or to collapse into the gritty sand they had originally been made from. Draco had discovered himself a talent for recreating the beautiful stained glass from the sand itself, and had been warmly congratulated by Professor McGonnagal.
Elsewhere, expert wizards and witches were tackling stubborn blocks that had acquired a life of their own and were reluctant to align back into walls. The main staircase had given them a lot of trouble, but it had been completed the previous week, to loud cheers from the Hogwarts staff. They were now recreating the Great Hall, whose walls were almost finished; the ceiling, of course, would be another huge challenge. Still, the Headmistress was hopeful that come September, the castle would be fit to welcome and teach students again.
The first thing Severus became aware of was a thumping headache. A hangover potion wouldn't go amiss. Then, he realized that he was not lying on the threadbare sofa in the Shack, but in a comfortable, if narrow, bed. The third thing he noticed was the young witch nestled by his side, her arm slung across his stomach, her mane of red hair spread on the pillow.
He leapt out of bed, dismayed at his own behaviour. Merlin's beard, he was supposed to control his emotions, not let them rule over him! He grabbed his clothes from the floor, got dressed and took some water from the tin bucket to splash his face with. Then, he started pacing the room, trying to calm his tempestuous thoughts.
After a while, a mass of copper curls emerged from the bed. Morag picked up her navy-blue jumper and pulled it over her head.
"Guid morning, Severus. How's ye?" She cast him a glance, then added, "Nae too guid, unless I'm mistaken. What's wrong?"
Severus looked at her. How could he put words on the turmoil he felt inside?
"I am sorry, Morag."
"What are ye sairy fer noo, ye daft thing?" she laughed.
"What we did – what I did. I am terribly sorry for… such a display of… for my lack of self-control." He stammered.
The young witch sat on the edge of the bed, one foot tucked under her thigh, her eyes gazing at him with a soft, knowing look.
"Ye did nought wrong, Severus."
"It should not have happened", he insisted.
"D'y ken why ye're feeling that way? I'll tell ye. Ye like me, but ye still love Lily. Ye think yer feelings fer me are a betrayal of her memory. An' ye feel it's nae fair on me because ye arenae sure ye can truly love me. Ye're worried aboot hurting me, aboot the past repeating itself. And ye dinnae ken whit tae do with all of that."
"Are you a Legilimens?" he glared at her suspiciously.
"Good Brighid, nae, Severus. Ye ken me well enough by noo. I'd never be so rude as tae trespass in someone's mind like that. I've eyes an' that's enough."
"Merlin's beard, am I that much of an open book?" he groaned.
"Och, Severus. Ye are an open book tae someone who gives a damn, someone who cares aboot ye. An' ye talk in yer sleep, remember."
"What – precisely – did you hear?" Severus said, rubbing his temples.
"Ye kept calling Lily's name. Then ye'd mumble angrily aboot 'that Potter' and how 'she's too guid fer him'. That told me ye loved her, and she loved another. And then ye'd plead, saying something like 'Please, keep her safe, I'll do anything', and you'd scream and cry out she shouldnae have died, that she was s'pposed tae be kept safe. Means she died even though ye tried tae stop it. Then I heard aboot young Potter's story an' it all made sense." She paused.
"As fer kenning how ye feel aboot me, that isnae hard, either. Ye look at me like a starved man looks at a feast. Ye deserve tae be loved, same as anyone else, Severus. Why will ye nae take what is given tae ye freely?"
His chest felt constricted.
"You don't understand. There was a prophecy about the Dark Lord's downfall… I overheard it. He considered me a loyal servant, and rightly so, at the time. I relayed the prophecy to him, not knowing what consequences would follow: even though I knew Lily had a son, I did not know the date of his birth. When the Dark Lord concluded that the prophecy referred to her – or rather, to her son – I was horrified, but it was too late."
"An' so ye feel responsible fer her death."
"I do not feel responsible, witch, I am guilty! Have you not understood anything at all? I brought about her death! I as good as killed her!"
"Ye didnae cast that evil curse, Severus. T'was that evil lunatic called" – she spat out the name like it was gall in her mouth – "Voldemort."
Severus felt a slight tinge on his arm, reminding him he had once belonged to the evil lunatic in question. "True as it may be, I still had a hand in it, Morag."
"D'ye nae think ye've atoned enough over those long years? Ye cloak yerself in yer pain, ye wear it like an armour. It dinnae have tae be this way, Severus."
"Lily's death has been my burden for seventeen years. Even if I wanted to forgive myself, I would not even know how."
Just then, someone knocked on the door. Morag shook her head in frustration, slid in a pair of jeans and went to open.
"Guid morning, Minerva. How can I help ye?"
"Good morning, Morag. As a matter of fact, I am looking for Severus. Aberforth said you probably offered him lodgings for the night."
"Aye, I did. Come in."
The stately Scottish witch stepped in and swept the room with one glance. "I was thinking, Severus, that you might like to use your quarters at the castle. After all, most of your belongings are still there – and we will most likely need you once the new school year starts. That's only a couple of months away."
"Are you offering me a position back at the school, Minerva?" Severus asked.
"I am, indeed. Professor Slughorn has agreed to stay and teach Potions next year, but we need a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. You have extensive knowledge –"
Severus flinched.
"– my apologies," the Headmistress went on. "By no means did I imply anything negative about you, Severus. On the contrary, I believe you know enough not only about the Dark Arts and how to fight them, but about their dangers, to make you an unvaluable teacher."
"Of course. I appreciate the offer, Minerva. I will consider it."
Glossary
aboot – about
arenae/couldnae/dinnae/isnae/shouldnae/willnae – aren't/couldn't/don't/isn't/shouldn't/won't
Brighid : Gaelic goddess who ruled over healing, physicians, learning, love, and witchcraft, among other things
fer – for
guid – good
ken – know
nae – not
naught – nothing
noo – now
och – oh
sairy – sorry
tae – to
ye/yer/yers – you/your/yours