Ten Things I Hate About You (6/6)
Sep. 9th, 2010 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redorchidsChapter 14 - Reparations
His sudden departure had shaken her. One moment they were sitting peacefully on the bench, cosily wrapped up in each other, and the next he was stumbling to his feet, telling her to leave him alone before disappearing from the garden. For the longest time, she just remained in her seat, accosted by thoughts and emotions, hoping that he would come back. When he didn’t, she got to her feet, straightened her gown and decided to go back to the party. She wouldn’t start looking for him, not yet. She could stand waiting a little while longer. The memory of his face as he’d left, however, made something clench painfully in her gut. He’d had an almost wild look in his eyes, wild and pained, as though he’d just seen something horrific and needed to get away from it. She was worried about him.
“Please, Severus, don’t do anything stupid!” she whispered urgently under her breath as she made her way towards the reception area.
***
Before she reached the ballroom, however, a small foot inside her decided to press against her bladder, and she veered off towards the ladies’ room, slipping into one of the stalls and closing the door behind her.
Less than a minute later, she heard the outer door open and close again, and two pairs of feet started clapping against the stone. She recognised the voices – they were two girls in Ginny’s year... Hannah and.... Caprice, if she wasn’t mistaken. She’d never really known them, their only interaction at Hogwarts being the few times she’d reported them to Professor McGonagall for sneaking into the boys’ dormitories in the middle of the night. She didn’t really want to face them right then either, so she remained where she was, leaning her head against the cool wall of the cubicle and closing her eyes.
“... imagine if Ron Weasley had been stuck with her!”
“Yeah, I bet he’s counting his blessings that he escaped that horrible fate.”
Hermione’s eyes snapped open. They were talking about Ron, that much was clear, but the girl they were referring to... it sounded almost like...
“Can you imagine dating someone like her? She probably quotes Hogwarts, A History during sex.” The other girl snickered.
“Yeah, or recites the uses of human saliva in Potions making while kissing.”
“Well, that should make her a good match for Snape.” More laughs. Hermione was starting to feel mildly sick to her stomach.
“Oh, I don’t know,” one of the girls – Hannah, she thought – said in a conspiratorial voice. “There’s something about him that’s just really attractive. I think it’s his hands. Oh, and his voice of course. God, that voice was the only reason I took Potions past fifth year.”
“Are you kidding?” the other girl asked in astonishment. “You’re honestly saying that you think Snape is sexy? Have you gone completely barmy?”
“Oh, come on Caprice! You’re blonde, not blind! Besides, I’ve heard some things...”
“What?!” Hermione pressed her ear closer to the wall, careful not to make a sound. The slight nausea she’d been feeling was growing stronger. What kind of stories could these girls possibly have to tell about the man who was now her husband?
“Well...” Hannah started, lowering her voice, making it hard for Hermione to follow, “he’s supposed to be really great in bed.”
“How do you know that?!” the other girl gasped, Hermione’s head echoing that same question.
“My sister told me. She used to complain about him a lot while he was her teacher, you know, like most other people. And then, two summers after she graduated, she suddenly got this smug expression on her face whenever his name was mentioned – usually when I was complaining about him...”
“And?!!!” Caprice almost shrieked. Hermione could feel her throat going dry.
“She’d met him at a conference in London. He brought her back to his apartment and shagged her silly. Best sex in her life apparently,” Hannah said, a spark of excitement in her voice.
Hermione felt a sudden wave of jealousy hit her like a slap in the face. Unbidden, names started flying across her mind, trying to locate the face of the girl who was the cause of her emotional upheaval. What was Hannah’s last name again? Claret? Cousteau?... and then it hit her – Hannah’s name was Clearwater. Same as Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater, the girl who’d saved Hermione from being killed by a Basilisk by using her mirror to guide them through the corridors. The girl who’d been going out with Percy for more than four years – and... She suddenly stiffened, a shot of pure ice seeping down her spine. ...and left him rather brusquely the summer between their fifth and sixth year - two years after Penelope had graduated from Hogwarts.
Oh God...
She put her head between her knees, trying to block out the memories and images that filled her head. Percy returning to the Burrow, a broken version of the confident young man she’d last seen. Unemployed, alone and miserable. Severus’ slight innuendos at Grimmauld Place about how perhaps he hadn’t been man enough to keep his fiancée interested. Percy’s quick exits whenever she and Ron would kiss, or even hug. The sadness in his eyes as he rubbed one of her brown curls between his fingers one drunken night. He’d been killed by Death Eaters before they even went back to Hogwarts.
“...ever see him again?” Hermione’s head snapped up and her concentration quickly focused on the girls on the other side of the thin wall.
“Every once in a while. She used to work in Hogsmeade, you know – rather convenient. But then she got married last Christmas and I don’t think she’s been with him since.”
“Yeah, I guess Michel wouldn’t like that,” Caprice said. Hannah chuckled and lowered her voice again.
“Oh, I don’t know... Ok, so this is a complete secret, alright? Swear you won’t tell anyone.”
“Of course!” Hermione could almost hear the other girl leaning closer with wide eyes.
“Penny didn’t meet Michel in the store like she’s telling everyone. She met him...” Hannah paused for what felt like an eternity and all Hermione could hear was the blood pounding in her ears as she waited. “...She met Michel... in Snape’s bed.”
“No way!” Caprice gasped, luckily loudly enough to drown the sound of protest that had escaped Hermione’s own mouth. She quickly covered it with her hand, feeling as though the room was swirling around her.
“It’s true!” Hannah insisted. “Apparently, they did quite a bit of threesomes. Usually, Penny would bring one of her girlfriends though. She says he enjoys variation.” With every word coming out of the girl’s throat, Hermione felt the tightening in her chest grow more painful. She didn’t want to know all this. Didn’t want to know the things he’d done, the things he’d experienced – the women he’d had, and undoubtedly compared her with. She blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears that were forming behind her eyes, without success. A big, glistening drop rolled down her face as she pressed her head even closer to the wall.
“So, what? Professor Snape is, like, bisexual or something?” the other girl asked, wonder in her voice. Hannah laughed again.
“Caprice, no! Just ‘cause you have a threesome, it doesn’t mean that everyone has to sleep with everyone else. It’s more about two people sharing the third party if I understand it correctly. Or at least that’s how Penny described her little adventures with Snape and Michel.”
“Oh.” In her stall, Hermione pressed her eyes shut and tried to keep still and silent as tears ran down her cheeks. She wished she’d never come here, wished that she’d stayed at Hogwarts were all was quiet and calm and no one bothered her.
“You know...” Hannah’s voice was suddenly hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“I was just thinking... you know, I – I saw Snape, just before we came in here. At the bar...”
“Uh-huh?” Caprice’s tone was going towards the nervous as well.
“Well, you know... I just thought... What do you think about maybe... you know, you and me... I mean, he’s supposed to be really good.” Hermione sat frozen, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to jerk open the door and tell the stupid girls to just stay away from what was hers. But she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. She just sat there, listening.
“I don’t know, Hannah,” the other girl said. “I mean, I’m getting married to Andrew in less than a month.”
“But you’re not married yet, and you don’t even love him! You’re just getting married because you have to, and Andrew’s not even here.” Her voice turned pleading. “Come on, Caprice, I really want to do this, but I don’t think I could do it alone...”
“You would hardly be alone,” Caprice said with a snort. “Sex requires two people, remember?”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. I just –”
“What about him, Hannah?” Caprice interrupted her friend, slight fear in her voice. “What makes you so sure he wouldn’t turn you – us – down? He’s married too, you know.”
“Yeah, to Hermione Granger!” Hannah retorted. “He’s married to the know-it-all bookworm, and she’s pregnant on top of that! He’s probably desperate for a good shag by now.”
“But isn’t there a Fidelity Charm in the wedding ceremony?” Caprice asked. “Doesn’t that mean that he can’t be unfaithful even if he wanted to?”
“Well, no. It’s not that kind of charm, only one that makes sure that any children born are legitimate ones. Basically, you can’t get pregnant by someone who’s not your husband, and the guy can’t knock up anyone else either. So actually, if you think about it, it makes having casual sex easier. No worries, no fuss!”
“But maybe they’re happy together. It wouldn’t be -” Hannah almost choked on a giggle.
“You can’t be serious. She’s frigid and completely boring in bed! Ron used to go on about how unsatisfied he was for hours on end.” She let out another laugh. “Ok, so not hours, ‘cause I usually made sure to fix that – um – problem before he got too whiny, but still...”
Something inside Hermione snapped. Legs shaking, she stood up, adjusted her dress and pushed the door open with a loud slam. The two girls by the mirror jumped at the sound and spun around, only to pale when they saw the girl in front of them. While they stood frozen in their spots, Hermione calmly washed her hands and reached for a towel. She then walked to the door, but just as she was about to grab the handle and walk out, she turned around, the swelling anger inside her pulling what felt like a red veil in front of her eyes.
“Word of advice,” she said, voice deceptively calm, fingers itching to reach for her wand. “Stay away from my husband... or I’ll make sure that Transfiguration becomes a very unpleasant experience for the two of you next year.”
She managed to slam the door shut and walk to the end of the corridor before breaking down into tears. Vision blurred, she made her way towards the ballroom. She needed to talk to Severus and she didn’t care if she came across needy or jealous or any of the other things Parvati and Lavender had used to describe as “capital sins in a relationship”. Ron had cheated on her when they were going out – that alone had shaken her. She’d known they weren’t blissfully happy together, but she’d never thought that he’d go so far as to actually... She choked on a sob. The worst part wasn’t the actual deed itself, even, but the way he’d apparently talked about her to this (these?) other girl. She felt utterly betrayed, like someone had thrown her head first in a puddle and then kicked mud at her for good measure. How could he?! I guess the old saying is true, she thought bitterly to herself. With friends like this, who needs enemies?. She leaned against the cold stone as another wave of shaking sobs overtook her. Not Ron! Please, not Ron! She could hear the silent plea as though it was coming from an old record stuck on repeat. Her best friend at Hogwarts...
She could feel something break inside her - innocence shattered like a crystal jar hurled into a dungeon wall.
Without seeing where she was going, she moved across the floor, only to have her progress halted as she stumbled into a tall dark form, making them both crash against the wall.
***
She knew before even looking up that she’d found him. His smell seemed to wrap itself around her like a warm blanket. She raised her chin and saw worry pass over his face. She quickly wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, taking a step away from him.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, trying to get the tears under control. Severus grabbed her chin, tilting her head back.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, a tense look on his face.
“I – It’s nothing... just – I just... in the bathroom, I heard – someone said... Please, could we just go somewhere else?” she pleaded, latching on to his arm with an almost desperate grip. He gently put his other arm around her and pulled her close, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips. The way she responded, falling into his touch, opening up to his kiss as a dried up flower would open up to rain, served to subdue any lingering doubt he’d had. Whatever had her so upset had nothing to do with his recent behaviour on the dance floor. He was safe.
Except, now he had a problem concerning what to do with the key in his pocket.
Scanning the room, he quickly saw a solution. Pulling Hermione (who refused to let go of his arm in a way which both pleased and annoyed him) with him, he swiftly crossed the room and caught up with the blond man before he walked out the door.
“Bruce, good thing I found you.”
The Australian turned with a smile, which then grew into a slightly puzzled expression as he laid eyes on Hermione. She looked back in equal bewilderment.
“I’m sorry,” Snape said, adding politeness to his voice. “Hermione, this is Bruce, a friend of Ron’s. Bruce, this is Hermione... my wife.” Understanding flashed across the other’s features and he smiled broadly, picking up Hermione’s hand and placing a quick peck on the back of it.
“A pleasure to meet you, Hermione,” he said, before turning to Severus. “So, what can I do for you, mate?”
Snape withdrew the key from his pocket and handed it over with a casual gesture.
“I need give this back to you. Much as I would have enjoyed a game of cards, I think my wife needs me right now. Would you be so kind as to give my sincere apologies to the other players? They should have retired for the game already.” Bruce accepted the key with perfect ease, slipping it into his pocket.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I think this one was going to be quite spectacular. I’ll deliver your apologies, though. No problem, mate.” His smile grew a little wider as he subtly emphasised the word. “I’ll better go up there right now. Wouldn’t be polite to keep the others waiting.”
“Thank you,” Snape said, and for once in a very long while, he actually meant it. Then again, this wouldn’t really turn out to be a sacrifice on the Australian’s part, quite the contrary. He could feel blood rushing downwards as a flash of his previous dance partner writhing underneath him momentarily cut off his vision. The flash was directly followed by a great surge of vexation directed towards the woman at his side.
“Well, I should get going then,” Bruce said. “Nice meeting you,” he added, nodding to Hermione. “Oh, and you know, mate, if you change your mind later on, you know where to find us, yeah?”
“Most certainly,” Severus answered, a slight smirk gracing his lips as he put an arm around Hermione and led her out of the ball room.
***
They ventured outside again, into the cool summer night. The moon was up and the skies were clear, the stars painting their surroundings a mystical blue. They walked silently, side by side, each preoccupied with their own thoughts and wondering about the other’s. After about fifteen minutes, the path they’d been following ended. They were standing on a cliff, looking down as the black water crashed rhythmically against the unyielding stone. Without thinking, she sank to her knees, hypnotised by nature’s display. Without a word, he drew his wand and conjured a thick blanket before joining her on the ground.
He rolled over on his back, looking up at the starry skies. It was peaceful, the sea and wind the only things breaking the silence. The alcohol coursing through his system made his muscles relax and his breathing grow heavy. The vivid irritation he’d felt when Hermione showed up was loosing its grip on him and the frown on his face straightened out. The lost opportunity didn’t seem as important anymore, as his body came to rest against the soft earth.
“Ron cheated on me.”
He’d almost forgotten she was there when her words jerked him out of complacency. So that was why she was so upset.
“How did you find out?” He rolled onto his side so that he could see her face. At present, it showed surprise. His answer clearly wasn’t the one she’d expected.
“I overheard a couple of girls talk in the bathroom. At least one of them slept with him when we were still together.” He could hear the pain in her voice, which sparked two reactions in him – as was so common these days. He concentrated on the part of himself which felt sorry for her.
“God, I’m so stupid!” she moaned, new tears coming from her eyes.
“Really, Hermione, I fail to see how your intelligence could have anything to do with this,” he said in a dry voice, getting a small smile from her.
“I know things weren’t perfect between us,” she whispered. “But why? Why did he betray me like that? How could he?”
“Why do you think?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. This elicited another heavy sob.
“She said he was miserable. That I couldn’t satisfy him.” Her voice faltered. “That I couldn’t satisfy anyone.” Her voice dropped even more until it was scarcely more than a whisper. “That I wouldn’t be able to satisfy you.”
Severus blinked in surprise. This was very far from what he’d expected. He reached out and wrapped his hand in her hair, twirling a strand around his index finger.
“And do you believe that?”
“I don’t want to believe it.”
“But you do?”
“It’s just – I haven’t forgotten the things you said... you know... back then, before we got married. And... I agree that the Perception Potion was a good thing... it made things easier – at first at least – but now... it just makes me sad sometimes, knowing that you’re with me without really seeing me. And it makes me wonder if you would have fallen in love with me if you saw me as I am. Not pretty Hermione – just... me.”
There he was again, at another of those bloody moral crossroads. How did she keep putting him there, he wondered. He could choose to open up, tell her the truth and give her another lethal weapon with which to potentially harm him, or he could tell her something else, something reassuring, but which probably wouldn’t make her worries go away more than temporarily. But he would be safer... God! This was why he’d tried to escape for a while, why he’d sought some mindless satisfaction from a pretty former student – to escape all those bloody feelings that accosted his body every sodding time Hermione touched him. Every time they talked, every time he thought about her even. It was exhausting and frightening and he just wished it would stop. Wished he could just make it stop! An easy, casual, no-feelings-involved tryst had seemed just the ticket. With the added bonus of making a fool out of Weasley. Just a few hours where he could forget, where he could let go of everything and make his mind blank and his heart stop aching. Just for a little while. Just to regain a little bit of control and to prevent himself from drowning in their new-found love. Just to keep himself intact, just to save himself a little. Just to make sure he didn’t get completely lost.
“I do see you, Hermione,” he said softly, fixing her with his gaze. “I have ever since the night when you first felt my scars.” There it was, he thought. Yet another leap of faith taken for inexplicable reasons. How did she keep doing this to him?
“Really?” The hopeful light that shone through her eyes at that one word made his heart clench. It would be so easy to just lose himself in that warm light, to just give up and fall through unknown waters with her. But he couldn’t do that. Not now, not ever. He had to keep in control.
“Yes, I see you. And, Hermione, I won’t betray you,” he promised, stroking her hair, watching peace settle over her features. She captured one of his hands, and brought it to her lips, kissing each knuckle tenderly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if you would sleep with another woman. I don’t think I could bear it.” He felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt shoot through him at her words. Another flash of Katie Bell-Weasley – this time with her hands tied to the headboard – flashed before his eyes and he swallowed harder than usual.
“Simply sleeping with someone else doesn’t constitute betrayal, Hermione,” he started, feeling it was important for him to get this point straight right away. “Betrayal is of the mind or of the heart – not of the body. Casual sex is just to fulfil a physical need. It has nothing to do with betrayal.” The happy smile she’d had on her face vanished in an instant.
“You don’t actually mean that, do you?” she asked, light panic in her voice. He sighed.
“Yes, I do,” he stated firmly, still holding her eyes. Angry fire was stirring inside them.
“So, if I were to go sleep with another man, just to ‘fulfil a physical need’, you would be ok with that?” she challenged. His face hardened.
“That’s different,” he stated coldly. She felt fury surge inside her.
“Really? How?”
“Because for me, it wouldn’t mean anything. It would have nothing to do with you.”
“How could it not?! I’m your wife Severus! How could it not have something to do with me?”
“Because I wouldn’t love her. She’d be a tool to gain satisfaction, nothing more.” The statement was low and piercing. She pulled in a sharp breath.
“And why shouldn’t it be the same for me?” she asked, defiantly.
“You know why, Hermione,” he growled, swiftly rolling half on top of her and pinning her to the ground. “To you – and most women I’ve known – sex is about submission. You submit, and accept and you give. You accept the pleasure I grant you instead of taking it. You plead and beg rather than make demands, and you put your own release second in importance to mine. And when you submit your body, you automatically submit your heart.” He moved a thumb over her cheek in a slow caress and felt her shiver. He continued his path down along her neck and down her side, all the way down to the hem of her gown, where he slipped beneath the fabric to work his way up again.
“It’s very simple, love,” he whispered as his fingers worked their way up her inner thigh. “Penetration is a very intimate thing – much more so for a woman than for a man. You take something inside, deep inside, letting it touch places over which you have no control. You open up a hole in your walls, physically and mentally, and once that first door has opened, you can’t keep yourself closed up anymore.” His fingers were inside her knickers now, pulling the fabric down her thighs before sliding back up to make his point more clearly.
“Once a man enters you, things change. You’re no longer alone in your body. He can affect you deeply, because he’s already inside – and there are only two ways for that to happen.” His thumb caressed her outer lips, spreading the moisture over her smooth skin. “Either you welcome the intrusion,” he murmured, applying pressure to her opening and feeling her muscles relax, allowing two fingers to slip inside with ease. He withdrew and pushed in again, eliciting a gasp and a low moan. “And by welcoming it, you submit. You open up, giving yourself over, placing yourself in my power.” He curled his fingers inside her, moving them in circles over her most sensitive spot. She shuddered, hands coming up to grab his face, trying to pull him to her for a kiss. He resisted, working his fingers faster, bringing her nearly to the brink before, suddenly, withdrawing them. She whimpered.
“Please,” she whispered, looking at him, eyes wide. He had made his point.
Without a word, he kissed her deeply, bringing his fingers back inside to finish what they’d started. She clung to him as she came, pouring her heart and soul into their kiss. Oh, yes, he had more than made his point.
“What’s the other way?” she asked when they lay still again, breathing going back to normal.
“To be taken by force,” he said simply. “Something I hope you’ll never have to experience.”
Another long silence followed this statement. They were lying on their backs again, not facing each other.
“I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else. I don’t want you to make them feel the way you make me feel. I don’t want to share you.” Her voice was very low, but he still caught every word. Funny, he’d never thought of it like that before...
“It was so humiliating,” she whispered, turning towards him, “hearing two people I don’t even know very well discussing my relationships, judging me. I just felt like such a fool, like everyone knew but me and that people were laughing behind my back. Which these two were doing,” she added bitterly. He suddenly wanted to go back inside and find these two girls. Hit them with an assortment of hexes so that they wouldn’t be able to show themselves outside for a week at least. He knew what it felt like to have people laugh at you behind your back, knew the pain of judgement and rejection. Knew those wounds cut a lot deeper than physical violence.
He really hoped that he would be able to resist using this information against her.
That was the problem, really. All this honesty and understanding. He wondered if she didn’t realise that she was, in fact, handing him her heart on a silver platter with a butcher knife on the side, or if this was all part of the self-destructive tendencies she’d spoken about after he almost killed her. He desperately wanted her to try to fight those impulses better – this way, she was practically inviting him to hurt her. Or so it felt. Maybe she thought that if she gave herself over completely, if she rolled onto her back and bared her throat, he would spare her, do the noble thing, not kick the person already on the ground.
He really, really did not want to test that theory.
“Hermione, I know you love me, but do you trust me?” he asked, face turned towards the stars, willing himself to look away from her.
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. Too trusting, too innocent, a far too easy victim.
“Then will you trust me when I say that sometimes, doing something bad is a means to prevent something worse from happening.” She swallowed hard.
“What are you saying?”
“Tonight, earlier on the bench... when you refused me, I – well, I didn’t handle it very well,” he started, not quite sure how to explain or how much to tell her. “To hear that... right after I’d told you- only hours after I’d let you see- after I’d lowered my defences miles further than I’d ever done before... it was just... a slap in the face,” he said, still not looking at her.
“Severus, I’m –”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he stated, cutting her off. “Or rather, part of me wanted too hurt you too much. So I walked away, and tried to make myself forget...” His words trailed off into the night. She remained silent, a hand finding his and squeezing it in quiet support. That one simple gesture of respect served to make up his mind. She would have the honesty she wanted.
“I sought oblivion at the bar,” he began, his voice slipping into low caressing tones, as though he was telling her a shimmering fairy tale of places far away. “I didn’t even feel the burning in my throat for the first shots, but the effects remained faithful and I drank more, allowing myself to just be wrapped up in the haze, allowing my control to slip.” He paused, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Then there was a man, I don’t think he even knew my name, talking to me. He pointed out a girl on the dance floor, a former easy conquest of his. I watched her dance, and suddenly, it all seemed so easy. She seemed to be everything I needed right then: a tool to forget, an easy source of casual pleasure. No feelings, no thoughts, no respect even. Just someone I could use for the small price of letting her use me in return. So...” he kept his eyes fixed on the moon, “I asked her to dance. And we danced. And a meeting was arranged. I was on my way to join her when you arrived.”
He expected her to yell, or to cry, or to run off, or to try to curse him even. So when she remained still and silent, keeping the hold of his hand, he was very much surprised. Then she opened her mouth and true shock filled him.
“What was so terrible that this was the better option?” Her voice was trembling slightly, words catching in her throat as she asked the question.
Stunned by her reaction, his mind failed to stop the hand that smoothly withdrew a wand from inside his robes and put it to his temple. Without a word, without a single thought, it withdrew a long glittering strand of silver substance and then moved to connect with Hermione’s left temple. She closed her eyes and fell back into the memory. So did he.
He was back inside the coal bin, watching the scene play out before his eyes. His father grabbed the wrought iron fork and he pressed his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the screams. They came, just as before, but the panic he’d remember didn’t get a hold of him the way it used to. A warm hand was holding his, squeezing it so hard he thought his circulation might get cut off. He turned his head and saw a girl, slightly smaller than him, with brown curls growing wild around her face and shoulders. She watched with him, eyes wide and horrified as the scene changed character. They huddled together, unable to lock out the visions or the sounds as the dark man proceeded to take by force what he considered to be rightfully his, ignoring the anguished howls from the woman beneath him. After what felt like a small eternity, the sounds of violence finally stopped, leaving a heart-wrenching echo of stifled sobs in their wake.
“There now, sweetheart,” they heard the dark man’s voice whisper almost lovingly as he arranged the dishevelled woman’s robes and pulled her to her feet. “Please don’t make me do this again, I can’t bear to see you cry.”
“I – I’m so sorry, Julius,” the blonde choked out, trembling as she stood before him. “I’ll try to be a better wife, I’ll try –” Her fervent promises were cut off by a piercing scream and she fell to the floor, clutching her round stomach.
“Trying isn’t good enough,” the man said harshly, aiming another hard kick at the area she desperately tried to protect.
“Please, Julius, please stop! You’ll hurt her, our baby, she’ll -”
“I don’t want any fucking daughters!” he bellowed, kicking her again. “I told you to get rid of it if you found out it was a girl – that I wouldn’t tolerate any simpering useless little lasses in this house! I want sons – good strong sons, not like that scrawny little piece of shit that’s supposed to be my heir!” He reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking her to her feet. He held her still about a foot from his face, letting his eyes roam over her. His lips curled into an unpleasant smile.
“Although, with such a pathetic excuse for a wife, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” he said coldly, released her hair and quickly left the kitchen. Celeste sank to her knees, tears pouring down her face.
In the coal bin, the two children cried into each other’s arms.
***
They remained on the blanket, holding each other in a fierce and unrelenting embrace until dawn sent the first shots of gold and pink across the horizon. They lay silent, watching the sunrise, all words inadequate to describe what they’d seen and what they’d felt. They’d both been there – they both knew.
“I’m glad you found me when you did tonight.” Severus’ voice was hoarse, speaking for the first time in hours. Hermione raised her chin from where it’d been resting against his chest and met his eyes.
“So am I,” she whispered, giving him a small smile.
He didn’t say he was sorry for what he’d almost done and she didn’t ask for an apology. After what had passed between them during the night, she didn’t need excuses and she didn’t need any promises. They both knew they were past that stage now, that they had reached something deeper, and that they didn’t need to run anymore.
They just might survive loving one another.
The thought seemed to course through both of them at the same time and Severus felt a smile creep across his face as he lowered his head slowly, taking the lips of the girl he now loved in a fierce kiss.
Taking a leap of faith had never before felt so liberating.
THE END
Epilogue
The creature was so tiny in his arms, and for the first time since leaving the innocence of a child behind, his initial reaction was to protect rather than to ruin. He gently touched the black tufts of soft hair and the impossibly small features and felt lightheaded, too much blood rushing to his head through the elevated rhythm of his heart. He was the strongest man on earth, and the weakest. The bravest and the most cowardly. The little face showed him everything that he was and had been - a tiny, perfect mirror - but the blue eyes held none of the pain or violence which had so marked his life. He knew that the blue wouldn’t stay, that the eyes would most likely turn to a dark or chocolate brown; but for now, he could look into them and see a version of himself that called for hope. Hope. He’d never thought such a feeling would ever be allowed to genuinely penetrate his armour.
It wasn’t the shock it could have been. His growing intimacy with the creature’s mother had opened up his heart for cracks of light to make it through occasionally. It hadn’t been easy, and it still wasn’t; he figured it most likely never would be. His life with Hermione was as full of destruction as it was of creation, the fight for control and dark impulses always present beneath the surface. He loved her now, down to the very core of his being, as one loves the life-giving sea despite its treacherous, fatal undercurrents and crashing waves. Like the sea, it spanned from the unyielding, deep currents of passion to the raging, black fury of a midnight storm and back to the smooth, silver tranquillity of the calm in a bay at the break of morning. To live like they lived, and to love like they loved, wasn’t always grand, nor was it painless, but they’d managed to make a life in the waters all the same. He looked for signs of his wife in his new-born daughter and found them in the details: the shape of an earlobe against his calloused thumb and the way her fingers curved as she grabbed at him; how a small tuft of hair behind her ear almost twisted itself into a tiny curl. As always with Hermione, she’d managed to sneak in past his defences and somehow infuse the child with her essence, which called to him like the sweetest of Siren song. He hadn’t held her more than a few minutes, and she’d already brushed past his strongest shields. Fighting the budding love he could already sense would be a losing battle. His worn heart was too tired even to try.
The blue eyes fixed themselves on his face and he felt stabbing pains go through him as he recognised someone else in the gaze. Not reborn, but remembered, his mother smiled at him through her granddaughter, and he couldn’t look away. Sadness and guilt broke inside him and a low vibration started somewhere in his gut, working itself upwards. He didn’t realise he was shaking from incontrollable sobs until the baby joined him, her cries slightly muffled from where she was pressed tightly against his chest. They cried for a long time together, the first time he’d experienced tears since the day so very long ago, when he’d watched life slowly seep out of his mother’s eyes and leave him stranded in the surrounding darkness. Drying his face on the back of his sleeve, he closed his eyes to collect himself, pressed a kiss on the child’s head and went back into the bedroom to join Hermione.
“Aisling,” he announced, handing the child to his wife and sitting down next to her on the bed. She looked at him in askance, and he could see the wheels turn in her mind, calling up facts from her inner library to see the meaning behind his choice. Frowning, she looked at the baby’s blue eyes and then back at him.
“Not Celeste, then?” She took his hand and he swallowed hard before answering, locking his eyes to the infant’s gaze once more.
“No.” His voice was hoarse and he struggled to master it. “That would be an illusion, and she’s not. Aisling is just right.”
She smiled then, leaning her head against his shoulder as his arms came up around the two of them. She breathed in the scent of him through the damp fabric of his robes and let herself fall into the sensations. Taking in the form of her daughter, she couldn’t help but agree with Severus. Not an illusion of what was or had been, but a vision to strive for, an opportunity to direct their paths towards something new. She imagined there would never be a fresh start for them or any true escape from darkness. She’d learnt over the past few months, however, that even darkness had its comforts, and that night time filled the world with dreams. She, too, pressed a kiss on her daughter’s head and moved deeper into her husband’s embrace. Aisling indeed.
Back to Masterpost
His sudden departure had shaken her. One moment they were sitting peacefully on the bench, cosily wrapped up in each other, and the next he was stumbling to his feet, telling her to leave him alone before disappearing from the garden. For the longest time, she just remained in her seat, accosted by thoughts and emotions, hoping that he would come back. When he didn’t, she got to her feet, straightened her gown and decided to go back to the party. She wouldn’t start looking for him, not yet. She could stand waiting a little while longer. The memory of his face as he’d left, however, made something clench painfully in her gut. He’d had an almost wild look in his eyes, wild and pained, as though he’d just seen something horrific and needed to get away from it. She was worried about him.
“Please, Severus, don’t do anything stupid!” she whispered urgently under her breath as she made her way towards the reception area.
***
Before she reached the ballroom, however, a small foot inside her decided to press against her bladder, and she veered off towards the ladies’ room, slipping into one of the stalls and closing the door behind her.
Less than a minute later, she heard the outer door open and close again, and two pairs of feet started clapping against the stone. She recognised the voices – they were two girls in Ginny’s year... Hannah and.... Caprice, if she wasn’t mistaken. She’d never really known them, their only interaction at Hogwarts being the few times she’d reported them to Professor McGonagall for sneaking into the boys’ dormitories in the middle of the night. She didn’t really want to face them right then either, so she remained where she was, leaning her head against the cool wall of the cubicle and closing her eyes.
“... imagine if Ron Weasley had been stuck with her!”
“Yeah, I bet he’s counting his blessings that he escaped that horrible fate.”
Hermione’s eyes snapped open. They were talking about Ron, that much was clear, but the girl they were referring to... it sounded almost like...
“Can you imagine dating someone like her? She probably quotes Hogwarts, A History during sex.” The other girl snickered.
“Yeah, or recites the uses of human saliva in Potions making while kissing.”
“Well, that should make her a good match for Snape.” More laughs. Hermione was starting to feel mildly sick to her stomach.
“Oh, I don’t know,” one of the girls – Hannah, she thought – said in a conspiratorial voice. “There’s something about him that’s just really attractive. I think it’s his hands. Oh, and his voice of course. God, that voice was the only reason I took Potions past fifth year.”
“Are you kidding?” the other girl asked in astonishment. “You’re honestly saying that you think Snape is sexy? Have you gone completely barmy?”
“Oh, come on Caprice! You’re blonde, not blind! Besides, I’ve heard some things...”
“What?!” Hermione pressed her ear closer to the wall, careful not to make a sound. The slight nausea she’d been feeling was growing stronger. What kind of stories could these girls possibly have to tell about the man who was now her husband?
“Well...” Hannah started, lowering her voice, making it hard for Hermione to follow, “he’s supposed to be really great in bed.”
“How do you know that?!” the other girl gasped, Hermione’s head echoing that same question.
“My sister told me. She used to complain about him a lot while he was her teacher, you know, like most other people. And then, two summers after she graduated, she suddenly got this smug expression on her face whenever his name was mentioned – usually when I was complaining about him...”
“And?!!!” Caprice almost shrieked. Hermione could feel her throat going dry.
“She’d met him at a conference in London. He brought her back to his apartment and shagged her silly. Best sex in her life apparently,” Hannah said, a spark of excitement in her voice.
Hermione felt a sudden wave of jealousy hit her like a slap in the face. Unbidden, names started flying across her mind, trying to locate the face of the girl who was the cause of her emotional upheaval. What was Hannah’s last name again? Claret? Cousteau?... and then it hit her – Hannah’s name was Clearwater. Same as Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater, the girl who’d saved Hermione from being killed by a Basilisk by using her mirror to guide them through the corridors. The girl who’d been going out with Percy for more than four years – and... She suddenly stiffened, a shot of pure ice seeping down her spine. ...and left him rather brusquely the summer between their fifth and sixth year - two years after Penelope had graduated from Hogwarts.
Oh God...
She put her head between her knees, trying to block out the memories and images that filled her head. Percy returning to the Burrow, a broken version of the confident young man she’d last seen. Unemployed, alone and miserable. Severus’ slight innuendos at Grimmauld Place about how perhaps he hadn’t been man enough to keep his fiancée interested. Percy’s quick exits whenever she and Ron would kiss, or even hug. The sadness in his eyes as he rubbed one of her brown curls between his fingers one drunken night. He’d been killed by Death Eaters before they even went back to Hogwarts.
“...ever see him again?” Hermione’s head snapped up and her concentration quickly focused on the girls on the other side of the thin wall.
“Every once in a while. She used to work in Hogsmeade, you know – rather convenient. But then she got married last Christmas and I don’t think she’s been with him since.”
“Yeah, I guess Michel wouldn’t like that,” Caprice said. Hannah chuckled and lowered her voice again.
“Oh, I don’t know... Ok, so this is a complete secret, alright? Swear you won’t tell anyone.”
“Of course!” Hermione could almost hear the other girl leaning closer with wide eyes.
“Penny didn’t meet Michel in the store like she’s telling everyone. She met him...” Hannah paused for what felt like an eternity and all Hermione could hear was the blood pounding in her ears as she waited. “...She met Michel... in Snape’s bed.”
“No way!” Caprice gasped, luckily loudly enough to drown the sound of protest that had escaped Hermione’s own mouth. She quickly covered it with her hand, feeling as though the room was swirling around her.
“It’s true!” Hannah insisted. “Apparently, they did quite a bit of threesomes. Usually, Penny would bring one of her girlfriends though. She says he enjoys variation.” With every word coming out of the girl’s throat, Hermione felt the tightening in her chest grow more painful. She didn’t want to know all this. Didn’t want to know the things he’d done, the things he’d experienced – the women he’d had, and undoubtedly compared her with. She blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears that were forming behind her eyes, without success. A big, glistening drop rolled down her face as she pressed her head even closer to the wall.
“So, what? Professor Snape is, like, bisexual or something?” the other girl asked, wonder in her voice. Hannah laughed again.
“Caprice, no! Just ‘cause you have a threesome, it doesn’t mean that everyone has to sleep with everyone else. It’s more about two people sharing the third party if I understand it correctly. Or at least that’s how Penny described her little adventures with Snape and Michel.”
“Oh.” In her stall, Hermione pressed her eyes shut and tried to keep still and silent as tears ran down her cheeks. She wished she’d never come here, wished that she’d stayed at Hogwarts were all was quiet and calm and no one bothered her.
“You know...” Hannah’s voice was suddenly hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“I was just thinking... you know, I – I saw Snape, just before we came in here. At the bar...”
“Uh-huh?” Caprice’s tone was going towards the nervous as well.
“Well, you know... I just thought... What do you think about maybe... you know, you and me... I mean, he’s supposed to be really good.” Hermione sat frozen, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to jerk open the door and tell the stupid girls to just stay away from what was hers. But she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. She just sat there, listening.
“I don’t know, Hannah,” the other girl said. “I mean, I’m getting married to Andrew in less than a month.”
“But you’re not married yet, and you don’t even love him! You’re just getting married because you have to, and Andrew’s not even here.” Her voice turned pleading. “Come on, Caprice, I really want to do this, but I don’t think I could do it alone...”
“You would hardly be alone,” Caprice said with a snort. “Sex requires two people, remember?”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. I just –”
“What about him, Hannah?” Caprice interrupted her friend, slight fear in her voice. “What makes you so sure he wouldn’t turn you – us – down? He’s married too, you know.”
“Yeah, to Hermione Granger!” Hannah retorted. “He’s married to the know-it-all bookworm, and she’s pregnant on top of that! He’s probably desperate for a good shag by now.”
“But isn’t there a Fidelity Charm in the wedding ceremony?” Caprice asked. “Doesn’t that mean that he can’t be unfaithful even if he wanted to?”
“Well, no. It’s not that kind of charm, only one that makes sure that any children born are legitimate ones. Basically, you can’t get pregnant by someone who’s not your husband, and the guy can’t knock up anyone else either. So actually, if you think about it, it makes having casual sex easier. No worries, no fuss!”
“But maybe they’re happy together. It wouldn’t be -” Hannah almost choked on a giggle.
“You can’t be serious. She’s frigid and completely boring in bed! Ron used to go on about how unsatisfied he was for hours on end.” She let out another laugh. “Ok, so not hours, ‘cause I usually made sure to fix that – um – problem before he got too whiny, but still...”
Something inside Hermione snapped. Legs shaking, she stood up, adjusted her dress and pushed the door open with a loud slam. The two girls by the mirror jumped at the sound and spun around, only to pale when they saw the girl in front of them. While they stood frozen in their spots, Hermione calmly washed her hands and reached for a towel. She then walked to the door, but just as she was about to grab the handle and walk out, she turned around, the swelling anger inside her pulling what felt like a red veil in front of her eyes.
“Word of advice,” she said, voice deceptively calm, fingers itching to reach for her wand. “Stay away from my husband... or I’ll make sure that Transfiguration becomes a very unpleasant experience for the two of you next year.”
She managed to slam the door shut and walk to the end of the corridor before breaking down into tears. Vision blurred, she made her way towards the ballroom. She needed to talk to Severus and she didn’t care if she came across needy or jealous or any of the other things Parvati and Lavender had used to describe as “capital sins in a relationship”. Ron had cheated on her when they were going out – that alone had shaken her. She’d known they weren’t blissfully happy together, but she’d never thought that he’d go so far as to actually... She choked on a sob. The worst part wasn’t the actual deed itself, even, but the way he’d apparently talked about her to this (these?) other girl. She felt utterly betrayed, like someone had thrown her head first in a puddle and then kicked mud at her for good measure. How could he?! I guess the old saying is true, she thought bitterly to herself. With friends like this, who needs enemies?. She leaned against the cold stone as another wave of shaking sobs overtook her. Not Ron! Please, not Ron! She could hear the silent plea as though it was coming from an old record stuck on repeat. Her best friend at Hogwarts...
She could feel something break inside her - innocence shattered like a crystal jar hurled into a dungeon wall.
Without seeing where she was going, she moved across the floor, only to have her progress halted as she stumbled into a tall dark form, making them both crash against the wall.
***
She knew before even looking up that she’d found him. His smell seemed to wrap itself around her like a warm blanket. She raised her chin and saw worry pass over his face. She quickly wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, taking a step away from him.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, trying to get the tears under control. Severus grabbed her chin, tilting her head back.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, a tense look on his face.
“I – It’s nothing... just – I just... in the bathroom, I heard – someone said... Please, could we just go somewhere else?” she pleaded, latching on to his arm with an almost desperate grip. He gently put his other arm around her and pulled her close, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips. The way she responded, falling into his touch, opening up to his kiss as a dried up flower would open up to rain, served to subdue any lingering doubt he’d had. Whatever had her so upset had nothing to do with his recent behaviour on the dance floor. He was safe.
Except, now he had a problem concerning what to do with the key in his pocket.
Scanning the room, he quickly saw a solution. Pulling Hermione (who refused to let go of his arm in a way which both pleased and annoyed him) with him, he swiftly crossed the room and caught up with the blond man before he walked out the door.
“Bruce, good thing I found you.”
The Australian turned with a smile, which then grew into a slightly puzzled expression as he laid eyes on Hermione. She looked back in equal bewilderment.
“I’m sorry,” Snape said, adding politeness to his voice. “Hermione, this is Bruce, a friend of Ron’s. Bruce, this is Hermione... my wife.” Understanding flashed across the other’s features and he smiled broadly, picking up Hermione’s hand and placing a quick peck on the back of it.
“A pleasure to meet you, Hermione,” he said, before turning to Severus. “So, what can I do for you, mate?”
Snape withdrew the key from his pocket and handed it over with a casual gesture.
“I need give this back to you. Much as I would have enjoyed a game of cards, I think my wife needs me right now. Would you be so kind as to give my sincere apologies to the other players? They should have retired for the game already.” Bruce accepted the key with perfect ease, slipping it into his pocket.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I think this one was going to be quite spectacular. I’ll deliver your apologies, though. No problem, mate.” His smile grew a little wider as he subtly emphasised the word. “I’ll better go up there right now. Wouldn’t be polite to keep the others waiting.”
“Thank you,” Snape said, and for once in a very long while, he actually meant it. Then again, this wouldn’t really turn out to be a sacrifice on the Australian’s part, quite the contrary. He could feel blood rushing downwards as a flash of his previous dance partner writhing underneath him momentarily cut off his vision. The flash was directly followed by a great surge of vexation directed towards the woman at his side.
“Well, I should get going then,” Bruce said. “Nice meeting you,” he added, nodding to Hermione. “Oh, and you know, mate, if you change your mind later on, you know where to find us, yeah?”
“Most certainly,” Severus answered, a slight smirk gracing his lips as he put an arm around Hermione and led her out of the ball room.
***
They ventured outside again, into the cool summer night. The moon was up and the skies were clear, the stars painting their surroundings a mystical blue. They walked silently, side by side, each preoccupied with their own thoughts and wondering about the other’s. After about fifteen minutes, the path they’d been following ended. They were standing on a cliff, looking down as the black water crashed rhythmically against the unyielding stone. Without thinking, she sank to her knees, hypnotised by nature’s display. Without a word, he drew his wand and conjured a thick blanket before joining her on the ground.
He rolled over on his back, looking up at the starry skies. It was peaceful, the sea and wind the only things breaking the silence. The alcohol coursing through his system made his muscles relax and his breathing grow heavy. The vivid irritation he’d felt when Hermione showed up was loosing its grip on him and the frown on his face straightened out. The lost opportunity didn’t seem as important anymore, as his body came to rest against the soft earth.
“Ron cheated on me.”
He’d almost forgotten she was there when her words jerked him out of complacency. So that was why she was so upset.
“How did you find out?” He rolled onto his side so that he could see her face. At present, it showed surprise. His answer clearly wasn’t the one she’d expected.
“I overheard a couple of girls talk in the bathroom. At least one of them slept with him when we were still together.” He could hear the pain in her voice, which sparked two reactions in him – as was so common these days. He concentrated on the part of himself which felt sorry for her.
“God, I’m so stupid!” she moaned, new tears coming from her eyes.
“Really, Hermione, I fail to see how your intelligence could have anything to do with this,” he said in a dry voice, getting a small smile from her.
“I know things weren’t perfect between us,” she whispered. “But why? Why did he betray me like that? How could he?”
“Why do you think?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. This elicited another heavy sob.
“She said he was miserable. That I couldn’t satisfy him.” Her voice faltered. “That I couldn’t satisfy anyone.” Her voice dropped even more until it was scarcely more than a whisper. “That I wouldn’t be able to satisfy you.”
Severus blinked in surprise. This was very far from what he’d expected. He reached out and wrapped his hand in her hair, twirling a strand around his index finger.
“And do you believe that?”
“I don’t want to believe it.”
“But you do?”
“It’s just – I haven’t forgotten the things you said... you know... back then, before we got married. And... I agree that the Perception Potion was a good thing... it made things easier – at first at least – but now... it just makes me sad sometimes, knowing that you’re with me without really seeing me. And it makes me wonder if you would have fallen in love with me if you saw me as I am. Not pretty Hermione – just... me.”
There he was again, at another of those bloody moral crossroads. How did she keep putting him there, he wondered. He could choose to open up, tell her the truth and give her another lethal weapon with which to potentially harm him, or he could tell her something else, something reassuring, but which probably wouldn’t make her worries go away more than temporarily. But he would be safer... God! This was why he’d tried to escape for a while, why he’d sought some mindless satisfaction from a pretty former student – to escape all those bloody feelings that accosted his body every sodding time Hermione touched him. Every time they talked, every time he thought about her even. It was exhausting and frightening and he just wished it would stop. Wished he could just make it stop! An easy, casual, no-feelings-involved tryst had seemed just the ticket. With the added bonus of making a fool out of Weasley. Just a few hours where he could forget, where he could let go of everything and make his mind blank and his heart stop aching. Just for a little while. Just to regain a little bit of control and to prevent himself from drowning in their new-found love. Just to keep himself intact, just to save himself a little. Just to make sure he didn’t get completely lost.
“I do see you, Hermione,” he said softly, fixing her with his gaze. “I have ever since the night when you first felt my scars.” There it was, he thought. Yet another leap of faith taken for inexplicable reasons. How did she keep doing this to him?
“Really?” The hopeful light that shone through her eyes at that one word made his heart clench. It would be so easy to just lose himself in that warm light, to just give up and fall through unknown waters with her. But he couldn’t do that. Not now, not ever. He had to keep in control.
“Yes, I see you. And, Hermione, I won’t betray you,” he promised, stroking her hair, watching peace settle over her features. She captured one of his hands, and brought it to her lips, kissing each knuckle tenderly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if you would sleep with another woman. I don’t think I could bear it.” He felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt shoot through him at her words. Another flash of Katie Bell-Weasley – this time with her hands tied to the headboard – flashed before his eyes and he swallowed harder than usual.
“Simply sleeping with someone else doesn’t constitute betrayal, Hermione,” he started, feeling it was important for him to get this point straight right away. “Betrayal is of the mind or of the heart – not of the body. Casual sex is just to fulfil a physical need. It has nothing to do with betrayal.” The happy smile she’d had on her face vanished in an instant.
“You don’t actually mean that, do you?” she asked, light panic in her voice. He sighed.
“Yes, I do,” he stated firmly, still holding her eyes. Angry fire was stirring inside them.
“So, if I were to go sleep with another man, just to ‘fulfil a physical need’, you would be ok with that?” she challenged. His face hardened.
“That’s different,” he stated coldly. She felt fury surge inside her.
“Really? How?”
“Because for me, it wouldn’t mean anything. It would have nothing to do with you.”
“How could it not?! I’m your wife Severus! How could it not have something to do with me?”
“Because I wouldn’t love her. She’d be a tool to gain satisfaction, nothing more.” The statement was low and piercing. She pulled in a sharp breath.
“And why shouldn’t it be the same for me?” she asked, defiantly.
“You know why, Hermione,” he growled, swiftly rolling half on top of her and pinning her to the ground. “To you – and most women I’ve known – sex is about submission. You submit, and accept and you give. You accept the pleasure I grant you instead of taking it. You plead and beg rather than make demands, and you put your own release second in importance to mine. And when you submit your body, you automatically submit your heart.” He moved a thumb over her cheek in a slow caress and felt her shiver. He continued his path down along her neck and down her side, all the way down to the hem of her gown, where he slipped beneath the fabric to work his way up again.
“It’s very simple, love,” he whispered as his fingers worked their way up her inner thigh. “Penetration is a very intimate thing – much more so for a woman than for a man. You take something inside, deep inside, letting it touch places over which you have no control. You open up a hole in your walls, physically and mentally, and once that first door has opened, you can’t keep yourself closed up anymore.” His fingers were inside her knickers now, pulling the fabric down her thighs before sliding back up to make his point more clearly.
“Once a man enters you, things change. You’re no longer alone in your body. He can affect you deeply, because he’s already inside – and there are only two ways for that to happen.” His thumb caressed her outer lips, spreading the moisture over her smooth skin. “Either you welcome the intrusion,” he murmured, applying pressure to her opening and feeling her muscles relax, allowing two fingers to slip inside with ease. He withdrew and pushed in again, eliciting a gasp and a low moan. “And by welcoming it, you submit. You open up, giving yourself over, placing yourself in my power.” He curled his fingers inside her, moving them in circles over her most sensitive spot. She shuddered, hands coming up to grab his face, trying to pull him to her for a kiss. He resisted, working his fingers faster, bringing her nearly to the brink before, suddenly, withdrawing them. She whimpered.
“Please,” she whispered, looking at him, eyes wide. He had made his point.
Without a word, he kissed her deeply, bringing his fingers back inside to finish what they’d started. She clung to him as she came, pouring her heart and soul into their kiss. Oh, yes, he had more than made his point.
“What’s the other way?” she asked when they lay still again, breathing going back to normal.
“To be taken by force,” he said simply. “Something I hope you’ll never have to experience.”
Another long silence followed this statement. They were lying on their backs again, not facing each other.
“I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else. I don’t want you to make them feel the way you make me feel. I don’t want to share you.” Her voice was very low, but he still caught every word. Funny, he’d never thought of it like that before...
“It was so humiliating,” she whispered, turning towards him, “hearing two people I don’t even know very well discussing my relationships, judging me. I just felt like such a fool, like everyone knew but me and that people were laughing behind my back. Which these two were doing,” she added bitterly. He suddenly wanted to go back inside and find these two girls. Hit them with an assortment of hexes so that they wouldn’t be able to show themselves outside for a week at least. He knew what it felt like to have people laugh at you behind your back, knew the pain of judgement and rejection. Knew those wounds cut a lot deeper than physical violence.
He really hoped that he would be able to resist using this information against her.
That was the problem, really. All this honesty and understanding. He wondered if she didn’t realise that she was, in fact, handing him her heart on a silver platter with a butcher knife on the side, or if this was all part of the self-destructive tendencies she’d spoken about after he almost killed her. He desperately wanted her to try to fight those impulses better – this way, she was practically inviting him to hurt her. Or so it felt. Maybe she thought that if she gave herself over completely, if she rolled onto her back and bared her throat, he would spare her, do the noble thing, not kick the person already on the ground.
He really, really did not want to test that theory.
“Hermione, I know you love me, but do you trust me?” he asked, face turned towards the stars, willing himself to look away from her.
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. Too trusting, too innocent, a far too easy victim.
“Then will you trust me when I say that sometimes, doing something bad is a means to prevent something worse from happening.” She swallowed hard.
“What are you saying?”
“Tonight, earlier on the bench... when you refused me, I – well, I didn’t handle it very well,” he started, not quite sure how to explain or how much to tell her. “To hear that... right after I’d told you- only hours after I’d let you see- after I’d lowered my defences miles further than I’d ever done before... it was just... a slap in the face,” he said, still not looking at her.
“Severus, I’m –”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he stated, cutting her off. “Or rather, part of me wanted too hurt you too much. So I walked away, and tried to make myself forget...” His words trailed off into the night. She remained silent, a hand finding his and squeezing it in quiet support. That one simple gesture of respect served to make up his mind. She would have the honesty she wanted.
“I sought oblivion at the bar,” he began, his voice slipping into low caressing tones, as though he was telling her a shimmering fairy tale of places far away. “I didn’t even feel the burning in my throat for the first shots, but the effects remained faithful and I drank more, allowing myself to just be wrapped up in the haze, allowing my control to slip.” He paused, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Then there was a man, I don’t think he even knew my name, talking to me. He pointed out a girl on the dance floor, a former easy conquest of his. I watched her dance, and suddenly, it all seemed so easy. She seemed to be everything I needed right then: a tool to forget, an easy source of casual pleasure. No feelings, no thoughts, no respect even. Just someone I could use for the small price of letting her use me in return. So...” he kept his eyes fixed on the moon, “I asked her to dance. And we danced. And a meeting was arranged. I was on my way to join her when you arrived.”
He expected her to yell, or to cry, or to run off, or to try to curse him even. So when she remained still and silent, keeping the hold of his hand, he was very much surprised. Then she opened her mouth and true shock filled him.
“What was so terrible that this was the better option?” Her voice was trembling slightly, words catching in her throat as she asked the question.
Stunned by her reaction, his mind failed to stop the hand that smoothly withdrew a wand from inside his robes and put it to his temple. Without a word, without a single thought, it withdrew a long glittering strand of silver substance and then moved to connect with Hermione’s left temple. She closed her eyes and fell back into the memory. So did he.
He was back inside the coal bin, watching the scene play out before his eyes. His father grabbed the wrought iron fork and he pressed his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the screams. They came, just as before, but the panic he’d remember didn’t get a hold of him the way it used to. A warm hand was holding his, squeezing it so hard he thought his circulation might get cut off. He turned his head and saw a girl, slightly smaller than him, with brown curls growing wild around her face and shoulders. She watched with him, eyes wide and horrified as the scene changed character. They huddled together, unable to lock out the visions or the sounds as the dark man proceeded to take by force what he considered to be rightfully his, ignoring the anguished howls from the woman beneath him. After what felt like a small eternity, the sounds of violence finally stopped, leaving a heart-wrenching echo of stifled sobs in their wake.
“There now, sweetheart,” they heard the dark man’s voice whisper almost lovingly as he arranged the dishevelled woman’s robes and pulled her to her feet. “Please don’t make me do this again, I can’t bear to see you cry.”
“I – I’m so sorry, Julius,” the blonde choked out, trembling as she stood before him. “I’ll try to be a better wife, I’ll try –” Her fervent promises were cut off by a piercing scream and she fell to the floor, clutching her round stomach.
“Trying isn’t good enough,” the man said harshly, aiming another hard kick at the area she desperately tried to protect.
“Please, Julius, please stop! You’ll hurt her, our baby, she’ll -”
“I don’t want any fucking daughters!” he bellowed, kicking her again. “I told you to get rid of it if you found out it was a girl – that I wouldn’t tolerate any simpering useless little lasses in this house! I want sons – good strong sons, not like that scrawny little piece of shit that’s supposed to be my heir!” He reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking her to her feet. He held her still about a foot from his face, letting his eyes roam over her. His lips curled into an unpleasant smile.
“Although, with such a pathetic excuse for a wife, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” he said coldly, released her hair and quickly left the kitchen. Celeste sank to her knees, tears pouring down her face.
In the coal bin, the two children cried into each other’s arms.
***
They remained on the blanket, holding each other in a fierce and unrelenting embrace until dawn sent the first shots of gold and pink across the horizon. They lay silent, watching the sunrise, all words inadequate to describe what they’d seen and what they’d felt. They’d both been there – they both knew.
“I’m glad you found me when you did tonight.” Severus’ voice was hoarse, speaking for the first time in hours. Hermione raised her chin from where it’d been resting against his chest and met his eyes.
“So am I,” she whispered, giving him a small smile.
He didn’t say he was sorry for what he’d almost done and she didn’t ask for an apology. After what had passed between them during the night, she didn’t need excuses and she didn’t need any promises. They both knew they were past that stage now, that they had reached something deeper, and that they didn’t need to run anymore.
They just might survive loving one another.
The thought seemed to course through both of them at the same time and Severus felt a smile creep across his face as he lowered his head slowly, taking the lips of the girl he now loved in a fierce kiss.
Taking a leap of faith had never before felt so liberating.
THE END
Epilogue
The creature was so tiny in his arms, and for the first time since leaving the innocence of a child behind, his initial reaction was to protect rather than to ruin. He gently touched the black tufts of soft hair and the impossibly small features and felt lightheaded, too much blood rushing to his head through the elevated rhythm of his heart. He was the strongest man on earth, and the weakest. The bravest and the most cowardly. The little face showed him everything that he was and had been - a tiny, perfect mirror - but the blue eyes held none of the pain or violence which had so marked his life. He knew that the blue wouldn’t stay, that the eyes would most likely turn to a dark or chocolate brown; but for now, he could look into them and see a version of himself that called for hope. Hope. He’d never thought such a feeling would ever be allowed to genuinely penetrate his armour.
It wasn’t the shock it could have been. His growing intimacy with the creature’s mother had opened up his heart for cracks of light to make it through occasionally. It hadn’t been easy, and it still wasn’t; he figured it most likely never would be. His life with Hermione was as full of destruction as it was of creation, the fight for control and dark impulses always present beneath the surface. He loved her now, down to the very core of his being, as one loves the life-giving sea despite its treacherous, fatal undercurrents and crashing waves. Like the sea, it spanned from the unyielding, deep currents of passion to the raging, black fury of a midnight storm and back to the smooth, silver tranquillity of the calm in a bay at the break of morning. To live like they lived, and to love like they loved, wasn’t always grand, nor was it painless, but they’d managed to make a life in the waters all the same. He looked for signs of his wife in his new-born daughter and found them in the details: the shape of an earlobe against his calloused thumb and the way her fingers curved as she grabbed at him; how a small tuft of hair behind her ear almost twisted itself into a tiny curl. As always with Hermione, she’d managed to sneak in past his defences and somehow infuse the child with her essence, which called to him like the sweetest of Siren song. He hadn’t held her more than a few minutes, and she’d already brushed past his strongest shields. Fighting the budding love he could already sense would be a losing battle. His worn heart was too tired even to try.
The blue eyes fixed themselves on his face and he felt stabbing pains go through him as he recognised someone else in the gaze. Not reborn, but remembered, his mother smiled at him through her granddaughter, and he couldn’t look away. Sadness and guilt broke inside him and a low vibration started somewhere in his gut, working itself upwards. He didn’t realise he was shaking from incontrollable sobs until the baby joined him, her cries slightly muffled from where she was pressed tightly against his chest. They cried for a long time together, the first time he’d experienced tears since the day so very long ago, when he’d watched life slowly seep out of his mother’s eyes and leave him stranded in the surrounding darkness. Drying his face on the back of his sleeve, he closed his eyes to collect himself, pressed a kiss on the child’s head and went back into the bedroom to join Hermione.
“Aisling,” he announced, handing the child to his wife and sitting down next to her on the bed. She looked at him in askance, and he could see the wheels turn in her mind, calling up facts from her inner library to see the meaning behind his choice. Frowning, she looked at the baby’s blue eyes and then back at him.
“Not Celeste, then?” She took his hand and he swallowed hard before answering, locking his eyes to the infant’s gaze once more.
“No.” His voice was hoarse and he struggled to master it. “That would be an illusion, and she’s not. Aisling is just right.”
She smiled then, leaning her head against his shoulder as his arms came up around the two of them. She breathed in the scent of him through the damp fabric of his robes and let herself fall into the sensations. Taking in the form of her daughter, she couldn’t help but agree with Severus. Not an illusion of what was or had been, but a vision to strive for, an opportunity to direct their paths towards something new. She imagined there would never be a fresh start for them or any true escape from darkness. She’d learnt over the past few months, however, that even darkness had its comforts, and that night time filled the world with dreams. She, too, pressed a kiss on her daughter’s head and moved deeper into her husband’s embrace. Aisling indeed.
