Understanding

Thanks to Shem for beta-ing, and to GrrArrg for keeping me sane. Individual thanks will be posted with Chapter Twelve.

Own nothing, etc, etc.

Understanding

Chapter Eleven:

Solitude

*Song lyrics will be included in the chapter*

The days dragged on as if they were weeks, and after a few very, very miserable days, I had capitulated and slunk over to see Minerva. Tea with my former Transfiguration professor had become one of my favorite times of day, and soon I was spending practically every day with her. She was much more fun than I remembered her being as a professor, but whether this was due to the fact that the war was finally over or that I was no longer her student I could never be sure.

The only odd thing I noticed about her was that after that first tea, Dumbledore had been nowhere to be found, and each time I mentioned this, she stiffened and tried to change the subject. I smiled inwardly. Must have been some fight for those two to not be speaking. But Minerva and Dumbledore always seemed to get back together. It was so cute.

Made me want to vomit.

Minerva was actually quite good company most days, and we spoke of everything, from books to politics to research in the field of Transfiguration. Every subject, scholastic or otherwise was covered. Well, everything except for relationships.

I had brought up the matter rather casually one day in hopes of getting her to tell me what was actually going on between her and Dumbledore, but every time I brought it up, she seemed to harden somehow and shy away from the subject. For a while, I was worried she'd been offended by my rejection of her nephew, but the fear was assuaged quickly as she calmly dropped into the conversation the fact that he'd run off with some girl the family had never met and eloped. But my curiosity was insatiable, and the more she refused, the more I pestered. And the more I pestered, the more she relented. Finally one day she snapped.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione! One would think you wanted to be asked about your own love life!" She was smiling, obviously teasing me, but I was taken aback. I thought on it for a moment and blanched.

"I hadn't intended it to sound like that," I murmured, though immediately sure that on some subconscious level, I had intended it exactly like that. I was at once afraid she'd ask me about it now. But I thought I could tell her. If she asked, that is. My relationship- if that's what we were calling it now- with Severus was always on the forefront of my thoughts, and I wished I had someone to talk to. But I wouldn't volunteer that information. If someone were to ask, however...

"It's alright, Hermione. From the way you tore out of here that first day, I suspected you had been recently heart-broken."

"Oh, no! It's not like that... I mean..." I looked down at my hands. I was sure I could trust Minerva, but now that she was listening, I had no idea what to say.

"Hermione, please. If you don't want to tell me that's fine, but, dear, you must find some way to deal with these emotions. Have you seen the outside wall of your quarters?"

I had. It was black. No deviation, no decoration. Just black. I nodded at her and she continued.

"It is unhealthy to keep these feelings bottled up. I understand if you don't want to tell me. I have been an authority figure in your life for too long to just fall into a friend role. I think too many professors make that mistake- moving too quickly- and then regret it. Trust and friendship are not mutually exclusive, and I know of tany any people who confuse the two. However, when a true friendship can be formed, it is priceless. I believe you will be one to overcome the obstacles often placed in the paths of ex-students who befriend professors. And I hope that if you come back next year to teach, we can be friends- truly."

I had a good idea she wasn't talking about being friends with *her*, but I didn't have the balls to ask her.

"Did you befriend any of your professors when you graduated?" Minerva smiled and looked away wistfully.

"Only Albus." The impact of the statement hung in the air, and for several moments, we eyed each other meanilly.lly. I was about ninety percent sure she somehow knew. She knew about Severus. She knew he'd left, and she seemed to be egging me on.

"I hear you play piano, Hermione."

Okay, that came out of nowhere.

I nodded and took a sip of the tea Dobby had brought. I was glad he'd survived. At least he was being paid, so I couldn't really complain about elf rights.

"Have you ever visited the music room?" asked Minerva with an upraised eyebrow. God, did that just happen to people at Hogwarts? I knew I couldn't do it. Maybe both eyebrows, but not just one.

"I didn't know there was such a thing," I answered truthfully. One more area of the school I hadn't known about before. I made a commitment to myself to search all the hidden crevices of the school I'd never seen before. Maybe I could borrow the Marauder's Map...

"Oh, yes. I used to visit it rather regularly before I became Head of Gryffindor house and became weighed down with all that position brings with it. I don't believe it's been used in a rather long time. Rather drafty down there in the dungeons." She eyed me, and I was now completely sure she knew everything, though how, I could not say. She leaned forward and took my hands. "Go sing for him, Hermione. He needs you. He may not know it or accept the fact, but he needs you. Don't be afraid, Hermione. He may take some time to warm up, but he will. It was not his fault he left you."

I sprang back as though slapped. What could she possibly mean, not his fault?

"What? What do you mean?" So, McGonagall knew about me and Snape, appeared to approve, and also knew why Severus had gone away. Why was it that everyone seemed more informed about my love life than me? And if Severus hadn't wanted to leave, why had he? My stomach dropped and my mouth went dry in my confused state. I had no idea what to do or what was true anymore.

"That's all I can say now, Hermione. Go to the music room. Sing all your feelings out. Make sure he hears. He will come round. Go on. Give Severus my regards." She continued looking at me rather seriously but with a sweet smile on her face. "And don't let Albus know where you're going."

And with that, I set out to find the music room I wasn't even sure existed.

*****
Slaving over a boiling cauldron, I pushed the sweaty hair out of my eyes. My damnable work ethic had gotten the better of me after three days of solid drinking and bleeding. "Research" had become my way of explaining away my long absences from the Great Hall over the summer. My first years as a teacher here had been hellish, laden with many hours of Albus trying to befriend me. I loved Albus, I truly did no matter how much I hated him, but he was infuriating as all hell. I didn't like lemon drops, playing with his phoenix, or having tea with Minerva every day. I didn't like the way the portraits in his office glared at me. I didn't like the he che cheated at chess. Truth be told, I could only take Albus Dumbledore in very small doses.

And so, I had taken to spending all of my time in the dungeons. Told everyone I was doing research and they pretty much left me alone. If anyone actually had the nerve to visit me in the dungeons I scared them off, and I hadn't had a visitor over the past ten years. Just like I liked it. Alone, quiet, and utterly miserable.

Yes. Just the way I liked it.

But after two summers of reading and hiding in the potions classroom, boredom got the better of me and I started to actually do some research. My subjects varied widely, mostly based on my interests at the time, and this summer was no exception. But as love and lust potions were outlawed and the production of them punishable by a lengthy stay in Azkaban, my current interests would not be useful to me. So instead I found myself rehashing old theories and brewing variations on proven recipes. I was bored and uninterested in any real work. But I couldn't concentrate on anything.

Nothing but her.

And the pain searing through my body. The cuts hadn't stopped on my arm this time; I'd run the blade over my chest and stomach as well. Just to watch myself bleed. And to feel. I had to do something to distract me from my thought her her.

I wanted her more now than I ever had, and I ached to hold her and apologize to her. But I couldn't bring myself to go to her. It was more than the fact that she may hate me. It was more than knowing I'd told her I loved her and then left her to wake up alone. I was obligated to Dumbledore. Whether the war was over or not, I was Dumbledore's servant. No matter what happened, no matter how severed my ties to him were, I felt like a grown child abiding by the rules set forth by the family patriarch. I hated him, yes, but I still respected him. And, for all intents and purposes, I was a guest in his house, and I could not bring myself to go against his will. He was more to me than a boss.

When he'd rescued me from the Death Eaters, he hadn't just saved my life; he'd saved my soul.

I knew exactly where I would be if I hadn't tursidesides. I would be dead, and I would have taken my own life. By the time I had contacted Dumbledore to join the Order, I had already committed over one-hundred rapes, twice as many murders, and had tortured countless others. Mostly these acts hadn't bothered me. But I had still been a young man, with some ideals and morals, and afthe the one act I had refused to commit, I had been tortured so badly I had shaken for two weeks straight.

And Voldemort had killed every living member of my family.

As a punishment for me.

And people asked me where my intense self-loathing came from...

Sighing heavily, I straightened and stretched my back. Potions research did nothing for lower back health. I walked lazily around the lab, my eyes falling heavily on Hermione's desk. She wouldn't be in my class come September. She wouldn't be in my life until at least then. She probably wouldn't be in my bed ever again.

I was entirely dejected and exhausted, too tired to even get drunk, when I heard the soft strains of the piano coming from the long unused room down the hall. Intrigued, I left the classroom and made my way stealthily down the corridor. Halfway to the room, I heard the soft voice and froze.

It was her.

My Hermione.

As soon as the feeling returned to my body, I moved to stand in the doorway and listen to her words. The song was already in progress, but the bits I did catch left me breathless, speechless, and entirely miserable.

"I lived through you, you looked through me
Ooh, solitude, still with me is only you
Ooh, solitude, I can't stay away from you
How many times have I done this to myself?
How long will it take before I see?
Whenl thl this hole in my heart be mended?
Who now is left alone but me?
Ooh, solitude, still with me is only you
Ooh, solitude, only you, only true
Everyone leaves me stranded
Forgotten, abandoned, left behind
I can't stay here another night
Your secret admirer
Who could it be?
Ooh, can't you see?
All along it was me
How can you be so blind as to see right through me?"

Hermione's voice quivered and shook, thick with tears, and as the song went on, with anger as well. I hated myself. I hated Albus. I hated life. I hated everything.

But mostly I loved her.

I loved her and was too big a pansy to move the fifteen feet that would close the distance between us. I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her I'd never abandon her again. I ached to kiss her and let her know I'd never looked through her. I physically hurt with wanting to tell her how wrong she was. But instead I turned and walked back to my quarters like the jackass I am.

Closing and locking the door, I slumped against it, a mess of tears, confused emotions, and a burning need for more firewhiskey. I had no logical explanation of why I hadn't gone to her. She'd been practically begging me, and she had to have known I'd hear her with the music being so close to the lab. She was trying to reach out to me.

I am a complete and utter fuck-up.

I told you I'd say it again.