Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.

Chapter 17 – Between Us Now and Here.


\"Between us now and here--
Two thrown together
Who are not wont to wear
Life\'s flushest feather--

Who see the scenes slide past,
The daytimes dimming fast,
Let there be truth at last,
Even if despair.\"

--Between us now. Thomas Hardy.


Hermione cringed at the loud bang. Well, that seemed to be the end to her plans, with the dinner she had envisioned disappearing with the sound of the door slamming angrily behind the back of her eight-year-old daughter. And the man she cooked it for was looking slightly amused. As if Severus Snape had ever shown any emotion that wasn’t brutally neutralized, and then probably not even the single emotion he had momentarily experienced. She wanted to cry with frustration. Knowing frustration was very likely a temporary substitute for those feelings she could not afford herself to entertain right now – fury, hurt, despair – only increased Hermione’s anger.

Hugging her knees to her chest, Hermione looked at Snape. “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”

He arched an eyebrow. “What do you expect me to say?”

She sniffed hard. “Something, anything. God. I’m always messing things up, am I?”

Snape frowned, his brow wred, ed, as if he was trying to solve a very difficult problem. “If you’re looking for comfort, I feel obliged to warn you I am not the right person.”

“Who is the right person?” She asked him, her voice thickened with tears.

Snape sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Well,” he inclined headhead courtly. “I think it’s time I was going -”

“Fine! Just fine!” Hermione cried. “Things go crashing downhill and the mighty Snape walks away!\"

Snape rose to his feet. Sleek, flexible and graceful, completely silent as he moved swiftly across the room to face her. “Now listen to me-,” Snape\'s hiss, reminded Hermione of the tomcats that had congregated in the dark alley by her New York apartment, hissing and spitting as they moved around a she-cat in heat, forming a magical circle. His eyes were dark and dangerous – cat’s-claw eyes, glazed with light-reflecting substance, which was piercing the darkness. Kneeling in front of her, Snape brought their eyes to the same level. Hermione cocked her head slightly.

“I have never known you to play games,” he told her, “so I’ll credit you by assuming thisnot not the case now. Therefore, I shall not even attempt to hypothesize why you might be looking up at me. I cannot give you what you need-”

“-What do I need, then?” She cut him, lips tightened with anger. “As it seem you know so much better than me. Come on Severus, spit it out, make my life easier, shorten my quest to self-fulfillment.”

Snape gave a strained groan. “I. Don’t. Know,” he growled. “Perhaps if I had it in me to see what you need and provide you with it, things would have been different. In many ways. But I am what I am, and I refuse to have you relying on me when I’m bound to fail you.” His tone was cool and scathing, as if he wanted the words to cut. “Am I making myself clear, Miss Granger?”

Snape\'s gaze became too much to bear. Moistening her lips, Hermione lowered her eyes, blinking back the tears. Suddenly chilled, she wrapped her arms around her body, failing to soak the dim heat that drifted from Severus. “It’s strange, you know. That being with you, I should feel so alone. So bereft when you’re so near.” She inhaled. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Hermione tilted her head to wipe it dry on her sleeve. “Why don’t you ask me?” she whispered. “I can tell you what I need.”

“Because,” Snape answered coolly, “I don’t want to be the one to give it.”

Hermione had buried her face in her arms. What a pleasant, pleasant man. Expose your belly and he would nail you to the wall, your blood pooling at his feet. Sobbing, she heard Snape hiss.

“Bloody Merlin, woman. Granger, look at me-,” he swore silently. “Come on, stop being an idiot.” Obviously annoyed now, Snape extended his hand, cupping Hermione’s tear-stricken face and forcing them upward. “Now listen to me, you silly girl. This is not a good idea.”

“Right.” She swallowed back her tears. “That’s what you keep saying. Why don’t you just walk out and leave, then?”

Snape rolled his eyes with desperation, as if he was talking to extremely dense child. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that you would not let me?”

She snorted. “I find it hard to believe my approval, or the lack of it, would have stopped you.”

“I’m still here.”

“That’s right,” she agreed, lifting her gaze to meet his. “You’re still here. But not because I told you to stay.”

Snape jaws clenched. “Very well, Hermione. Tell me what you need.” His face was an almost clear mask of self-control, subverted by the hinted shade of brutal violence. It should have scared her. It only made her think him beautiful. A wry smile quirked the edges of Hermione’s mouth. Raising her hand, she had once again wiped her face dry using the cloth of her left sleeve. “Hold me,” she told him at last. “I need you to hold me.”

Snape glared at her, but nevertheless, extended his arms tentatively, pulling her into his embrace. His left hand came to rest on Hermione’s right shoulder blade, the other hand wound loosely around her waist. Frowning, Snape applied some pressure on Hermione’s back, drawing her closer until her cheek came to rest against his shoulder. Coiling her arms around his neck, she felt Severus flinch. Even though, he made no sign that he was about to retreat. Encouraged, Hermione tightened her grip. “Are you all right?” she mumbled against the starched fabric of his robe.

“I thought it should be me asking that question?” His voice, although strained, carried a tinge of amusement.

“There’s no pattern to such things,” she said, letting her hands drop. “Come, sit beside me on the sofa.”

He nodded. Somewhat stiffly, Severus moved to sit by her side, careful to put some distance between them.

“Hold me,” she murmured, crawling into Snape’s lap as he opened his arms to hold her. It felt good, Hermione decided, curled into a ball with Snape enveloping her – every soft curve flexing against an angular plane; her tears soaking his robe. It felt warm.

“Is this some kind of closure?” Snape asked her.

Hermione shook her head. “No. It’s like ping-pong. Yesterday it was my turn to hold you, now you’re taking caf mef me.”

Snape inhaled. Hermione could feel his chest rising, and then falling sharply under her cheek. “Why me?” he asked her. “It doesn’t make sense.”

His heat permeated through the sensitive skin of her fingertips, now trailing along Severus\'s bicep. Fidgeting a little, she pressed herself into his body. “Does it?”

“I,” Snape paused, “I couldn’t tell.”

“Well, but I can, and being the only one who’s able to tell is good enough for me.” Hermione closed her eyes, submerged in the restless, dynamic quality that was Snape and being close to Snape. He was like the wind locked in a fist – intensive, violent exuberance under a pristine shell of calmness. The contradiction was alluring, as well the knowledge that she could palm this mixture of strength and vulnerability and make it flex into the curves of her hand. Pleased, Hermione let herself be held – let Snape adjust to the sensation of touching another person affectionately.

He was surprisingly pliant, perhaps working his muscles into watery submission. The Zen wolf who became one with the trap in order to get free. Hermione\'s smile was silenced against Snape’s robe. Well, she thought. It was a start.

“Are you hungry?” Hermione asked him after a while.

Snape made a low chuckle.

“Well,” she explained defensively. “There’s food, and I’m hungry, at least.”

“What’s with… Aubrey?”

Hermione sighed. “Right now she’s angry and hurt and probably hates me for abusing my position and being unfair to her- but she’ll come around. She knows I never punish her for her thoughts or feelings, but the way she chooses to express herself. Once she realises her mistake, she’ll apologize and we can discuss things clearheadedly.”

“And what will you tell her?”

Hermione didn’t attempt to avoid the subject. “I’d tell her that my past mistakes are irrelevant to the current situation.” She sighed. “That’s not what you wanted to hear, now didn’t you?”

Snape straightened uncomfortably. Hermione took it as a sign to move aside. Still clinging to him, she spoke. “I’ve though of this so many times,” she said quietly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “You, myself, and Dumbledore… are probably the only people in the entire world who know for sure about the true circumstances of Aubrey’s birth.” Hermione moistened her lips. “People can guess. They can make speculations. I don’t care for them. Severus…- nobody has to know. Least of all Aubrey. There is absolutely nothing for her to gain from learning the truth. Nothing. When she’s old enough, if you’d allow me, I’d tell her we had an affair when I was attending Hogwarts. That should be simple enough. Not dignified maybe, but hopefully, credible. Can you see my point?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Food, then?”

“Is there anything else you can think about?”

“Snogging.”

“Very well, Miss Granger. What’s on the menu?”

* * *

They had a quiet, reserved, though not unpleasant dinner. Hermione talked while serving the dishes- it seemed to be an urge she could not muster. Snape was uncharacteristically polite, but maybe ‘restrained’ was a more accurate definition. His relative lack of response had finally taken the edge off Hermione’s nervousness and made reticence somewhat more possible. It was… nice, she concluded afterward. To be able to share the silence with another person. Few words, food – that he hardly ate but appeared to enjoy, some wine, his company, which was dark and brooding. Above all, there was the silence, which stretched between them like worn out cotton – clingy and soft and welcoming, like a burning fire and a heated room, where a rainstorm is raging outside.

“Maybe you could… say goodbye to Aubrey,” Hermione asked after retrieving the unsurprisingly full diner-tray from the child’s room.

Snape, on his way out, already wrapped in his cloak, gave her a quizzical look.

“This part of the evening, where it concerns Aubrey, still needs some kind of closure,” Hermione explained. “She won’t listen to me right now- not before I talk to her and that could take a while, but she might say goodbye to you. We\'ve made some progress, Severus. Don’t let it all be wasted.”

He nodded, obviously tired. “All right. What am I supposed to say?”

She smiled softly. That a man so sharp and apt with words would be struck speechless by an eight-year-old girl. “Just go to her, take your leave. Remind her of your presence. That should be all.” Hermione wanted to reach her hand and touch his cheek, but sensed it would probably be too much for him to process. “Go,” She encouraged Snape. “She’s only a child. She won’t bite you.”

He sneered, and with that, stood before the girl’s door, knocking politely.

No answer came.

“She probably thinks it’s me,” Hermione whispered. “Just make your identity clear.”

Snape gave Hermione a sharp glare, then followed her orders.

“Oh-,” Aubrey’s voice came from inside, muffled from crying. “Come in, then.”

Hermione watched Severus step into the dimly lit room, hand extending to pivot the door behind him. It remained partly open, allowing both the milky darkness and the room\'s two inhabitants\' muffled voices to escape outside. Hermione sat herself comfortably against the wall, listening to the awkward conversation that played between the man and the child.

“Well, you wanted in…” Aubrey sounded tired, her voice tainted with faint accusation.

“Yes, I did,” Snape answered stiffly. “I came to take my leave.”

“You mean Mum made you come and say goodbye.”

Hermione could almost imagine Snape glaring at Aubrey. Astounded, she heard his voice come quietly, almost softly. “Your mother has good intentions.”

“She knows nothing!”

Snape cleared his throat. “Whether she does- or doesn’t, her intentions are nonetheless good. Your mother is acting on your behalf.”

“By making me be friends with you?” Aubrey asked angrily. “You can sit, you know. There…” Hermione could hear Snape’s robes rustling as he moved to sit, probably on the edge of Aubrey’s bed. She pictured them in her mind, sitting in mid darkness, each on either side of the bed, Aubrey wrapped in her quilt, Snape enveloped in his cloak, not looking at one another while their words formed a shaky bridge in the tear-salted dark.

“So…” Aubrey’s voice trailed. “What are we going to do…?”

“What do you mean?” Snape’s tone was sharp. The kind of sharpness Hermione had learned to treat with caution.

“Is it… is it safe for me to… like you? even a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said you’d try.”

“I will. That won’t make me likable.”

“Mum likes you.”

“Your mother likes all sorts of things,” Snape said snidely. Nevertheless, he was amused, and Hermione smiled at his observation. “I wouldn’t recommend for you to use your mother’s peculiar tastes as a standard.”

“Well, if I chose to like you, that’s my problem, right?”

“Silly girl.”

“Language,” Aubrey chanted with sing-a-song voice, obviously enjoying herself.

Severus snorted.

“This is impolite,” the girl noted absentmindedly. “Did you like your parents?”

“This is none of your business.” Snape’s voice was layered with ice. Hermione stiffened. Judging by Aubrey’s voice, the child was apparently aware to the danger as well.

“I didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to-,” she stuttered. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t like.”

“I don’t. Fuck- excuse me, listen, girl,” Snape took a deep breath. “This is… a delicate subject. Surely not one I wish to discuss, but you have no way of knowing that. I understand why you should be afraid of me as I did everything in my power to scare you, but I can only hope that in due time I’ll to repair some of the damage and convince you that there’s no-,” he paused, considering his words. “Admittedly, thinking me completely harmless will be inaccurate and probably unwise, but I hope you will see that I am not going to endanger your well-being or happiness in any way at all. Ever.”

Hermione stifled a sob, softly biting on her lower lip that cracked in a little smile. And the bloody fool is still wondering why him. From inside, she heard her daughter speak.

“That’s alright. I know. Well, it’s not exactly feel safe- like this boy from my class in New York who couldn’t trust any dogs after one bit him? But he knew some were okay, and in the end, he learned to trust them again.” Aubrey made the sound she always made when picking her words carefully. “Like… I’m sorry, for asking about your parents. I won’t do so again.”

For a while, there was silence. Snape was the one to speak up, this time. “My father,” he began slowly, his deep, beautiful voice, was studiedly devoid of any emotion. Hermione was immediately curious and began to listen intently.

“Justin- that was his name,” Snape continued. “He was a harsh man. We had – many disagreements. At the end, I went away. It is still not easy for me to talk about him.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Yes.” The answer was short and a cutting.

Aubrey’s voice was quivering with pain for him. “But you still loved him?”

“I did.”

“And your Mum?”

“Aniko – my mother – was… Different. Sweet. Beautiful. Ethereal.”

“Was she like Mum?”

Snape inhaled. “No. Your mother is kind– strong-minded. Brilliant. Down to earth. I think that above all else- your mother is happy.”

“And your Mum… wasn’t?”

The soft sound of tongue clicking on a moistened palate, then falling on stern lips could be heard in the silence. “Aniko- was hardly ever happy. At least not that I could remember.”

“Why do you call her by her first name?”

Snape was slow to respond. “Probably because I feel she no longer belongs to me.”

“But, but…” the girl seemed to be perplexed, “she’s your mother…!”

“There are sins, Aubrey, which one does, that have the power to sever even the deepest bond. I made my choices and paid for them dearly. Don’t ask for explanations. I won’t give you any. Not today.”

For long, heavy moments, they were silent. Then Aubrey spoke. “It’s okay. I’ll try not to… ask you things you can’t answer.”

“I appreciate that. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“I probably should. But Mum’s so happy that we’re talking that she doesn’t mind letting me stay awake over my bedtime. I bet she’s eavesdropping on us right now.”

“Really.” Snape was amused.

“Really really!” Aubrey answered with equal amusement.

“Well-,” Snape cleared his throat, “I suppose that I’ll take my leave now, if you’ll excuse me –“

“Don’t you want to give me a goodnight kiss?”

“Definitely no.”

“So can I hug you?”

“Is there a specific reason people find me particularly huggable today?” Snape remarked snidely.

The bedclothes rustled and swished under Aubrey’s shifting weight, and Snape have been given a wet, noisy kiss.

“You are not supposed to wipe your cheek!” the child protested.

“You are not supposed to be drooling all over me.”

“Goodnight, Severus.”

“Goodnight, Aubrey.”

A grainy sound was produced as the fabric on Snape’s robe met the thick carpet on the room’s floor. It told her Snape had stood up.

He met her on the entrance with a contemptuous glare. Hermione giggled. “That was really sweet.”

“That was horrifying.”

She beamed at him. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t try to make me sick.”

“If you wish to let my pride sicken you, this is utterly your problem.\" Still smiling, she outstretched her hand, signaling him to help her up. Snape obeyed reluctantly. They were now standing in front of each other, Hermione\'s head thrown backward so she could meet Severus\'s gaze- he was so much taller then her. Their height differences didn\'t seem to matter most of the time – Hermione\'s constant movement, her procyonid frenzy, compensated for her lack of impressive physical datum. Until they were so close that all of a sudden, the top of her head was level with his chest, and the ethereal residues of their bodies\' heat mixed together.

\"Look-\" Hermione had to move a little further than she wanted in order to be able to meet Snape\'s guarded gaze. \"I know that sometimes… sometimes it is easier to be treated harshly, if only because that is what we expect- what I learned to expect. Then when I had suddenly encountered kindness, I was overwhelmed – I didn\'t know how to respond and ended up being cold, detached or untrusting. It had been easier to think I had been deceived, rather than accept that someone had acknowledged our… it\'s hard to find the right term for this – New York is such an enormous place, remembering that the other woman walking on the other side of the street is a human being just like yourself, or perhaps- remembering that this woman is a human-being who isn\'t an exact copy of yourself, sometimes seems to be the only notion that enables you to contain the concept of other human-beings…\" Hermione moistened her lips. \"I\'m straying off the subject here. Anyway, what I wanted to say is that… that… after stagnating for so many years, we become rusty. We might not be able, or ready, to accept another person\'s acknowledgment of our humanity… of our being lovable. It hurts; it hurt to be treated kindly after knowing nothing but disregard for such a long time. Our circumstances are different and I\'m aware of that, but I… I know you-\" her voice was trembling, \"deep in my heart I know you, and I know you haven\'t been broken beyond measurement.\"

Snape shrugged. \"Touching.\"

She had known that he would hurt her, and therefore was ready to take the insult. The stab became blunt, and the pain slowly crumbled delicate, blood-engorged tissues of mellowness inside Hermione\'s womb and up her midriff. \"That\'s okay, Severus,\" she murmured as they walked to the door. \"As I already told you, I won\'t be scared off.\"

He closed his eyes, as if the weight of thousand regrets made his eyelids as heavy as lead. \"I do not deserve your kindness.\"

\"Well, that\'s for me to decide,\" she whispered. \"I only wish you hadn\'t hurt me so much in the process.\"

\"I\'m sorry. For everything.\"

Hermione closed her eyes, failing to hold back the tears. \"Apology accepted.\"

She heard him walk away.