The Tigress Lily

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Severus looked over and saw that Hermione was not looking at him. ‘Of course not. Who in their right mind would want to be stuck to you, poor girl.’ He wanted so much to be able to say something, to tell her how sorry he was. To do that he would need to drop his shields. He couldn’t, not yet, it would be too soon, he was too afraid that to drop his shields would only cause him pain.

Hermione could feel his eyes on her. She turned and caught his eye. She was surprised to see the look of pain on his face. ‘Why would he look so sad?’ Hermione asked herself. ‘Maybe because he is stuck to a know-it-all that he hates.’ She was surprised that he hadn’t made a fuss, gotten angry, called her a silly little girl. She was that he hadn’t yelled when she had used his first name he had, in fact, seemed unsurprised. ‘Hermione, you are going to have to be strong,’ she told herself, ‘because if your not, you will never get through this. You have had to be the strong one before, you can do it again, this is no different.’

She gave Severus a shy smile and looked down at their connected hands. Severus could see her thinking; building up her strength for the turmoil ahead and then felt a wave of determination pass over him and realized that it came from Hermione. She was not despairing, she did not hate him…she saw this simply as another hurdle, another problem to be dealt with in her young life. He realized that he had a great deal of respect for her, that she had layers deeper than her had ever realized. He closed his eyes and saw flashes of memories, memories that did not belong to him.

A small girl sits alone at a table, watching the other students laugh andk, sk, she eats from a brown paper sack, a lunch she packed for herself. ‘No,’ a voice in Severus’ head says, ‘she is far to young to be making lunch for herself.’ The other children are looking at her now, pointing and laughing. She is ashamed, her clothes are dirty and faded, one can only get clothing so clean using hand soap in the washroom of a school. Severus can feel tears welling up behind her eyes but she blinks them away. Her chin tilts up, a posture Severus recognizes, in defiance of the taunts of the other children. A flash and that memory is gone.

The girl is older now, but not much, it is cold outside but she has only a thin jacket. She is walking home from school; a heavy bag filled with books hurts her back and shoulders. She approaches a house; the front yard is covered in the slushy grey snow of an England winter. There is garbage covering the front stoop. She pauses for a moment listening for the sounds of fighting in side. Hearing none she sighs deeply. Severus recognizes the relief that floods her small body. She opens the door and is accosted by the smells of alcohol and smoke. A woman, who was once very lovely, is passed out on the sofa. Her features are wasted from alcohol and drug use, her skin sallow and cheeks sunken. Near her hand is a bottle of vodka, it has tipped over and spilled. Young Hermione drops her bag near the front door and moves into the kitchen. She finds a rag in the sink and takes it back to the living room where she scrubs the vodka out of the rug. She is very quite during this whole time, trying not to wake her mother, knowing that there will be hell to pay if she does.

Hermione has aged again in front of Severus’ eyes. She must be fourteen or fifteen at least. She is standing in front of a mirror looking at herself. The surrounding are not familiar to Severus, she must be home over one of the school holidays. She studies her reflection for a moment longer and then begins to unbutton her shirt. Severus is shocked at what he sees. Her ribs are prominent as are her hipbones. She is far to thin. She finishes removing the shirt and turns to look at her back, her head turned at a sharp angle over her shoulder. Severus is shocked at the way her backbone protrudes prominently, like a perfect string of pearls down her back. What shocks him more are the large bruises that cross her back. Severus can plainly see the imprint of a ring in the middle of several of the marks. So the bastard wore a ring while he did this. Severus didn’t want to acknowledge how he had recognized the mark a ring makes so quickly. He watched as the girl turned quickly at the sound of a door opening behind her. She pulls her shirt back on and takes a few steps back. A man enters the room, he had not showered or shaved in days and his eyes are red, bloodshot. On his right hand middle finger he wears a large ring of gold. He sees the girl shrink back even farther, feels the surge of panic that flashes through her and then feels her stamp it down. He watched her face go to the blank expression that he himself had used so often in his life.

He found himself staring at Hermione and himself. She was in the potions classroom. It was at sometime during her seventh year; he recognized the potion that the class was working on. He watched her cut the newt liver into perfect slices, he himself could not have done better, and then carefully add them to the caldron, stirring gently counter-clockwise. He watches himself approach her from behind and can hear himself mutter something about her ineptness has a potion maker, witch, and a human being. He sees that his memory self does not give her a second glance, does not see her flinch when he had sneaks up behind her or see the tears that grace the corners of her eyes for just a moment before she blinks them away. Memory Snape saw none of these things, but Severus saw them all.

Severus opens his eyes and seermiermione staring at him. Hermione has just experienced all the memories that Severus has. They flashed unbidden and unwelcome through her head and in the second that she looks into his eyes she knows that he has seen them too. Hermione turns her head away from him, utterly ashamed. Severus reaches out, not knowing what else to do, and lays a hand across her cheek, he turns her head and forces her to look at him. “Hermione…” What else can he say? He watches tears rise in her eyes aor tor the first time ever he sees them fall. They roll gently down cheeks. She makes no sound. Severus leans back on to the bed pulling her with him. He cradles her head to his chest and can feel the warm tears soak into his shirt.

There are creatures in this world that live solely on tears, on the pain and destruction of others. For the first time in his life Severus Snape realizes that he is not one of those creatures.