Outside the Potions Classroom

Outside the Potions Classroom



Chapter Sixteen


“I can’t believe I’m standing in the middle of Snape Manor.” Hermione’s voice was filled with wonder as she beheld their surroundings.

Severus wished he could have been proud of her sentiment, but the large old-fashioned mansion held very few pleasant memories. Hadrian’s weight in his arms, combined with his own exhaustion at Apparating three people, had made him too tired to play up the history of the grand house, although he knew he had to impress her somehow.

As if she suddenly read his thoughts, she spoke. “Oh! You must be so tired from Apparating. You put Hadrian down and I’ll make you some tea.”

He sent her an odd look.

“I can make decent tea, all right?” she growled. “Just show me where the kitchen is.”

“Straight down the hall through the dining room,” he answered. “Hadrian’s room is at the top of the stairs, yours is right beside his to the left.” He started up the stairs as she followed his directions. Hadrian didn’t awaken when Severus placed him gently in the middle of the Queen sized bed in the guest bedroom his mother had called the “Owl Room.” She had named all the rooms in Snape Manor by the beasts on the walls. He had chosen the Owl room for Hadrian because it was one of the least offensive, once the stuffed Owls were removed. The master bedroom was referred to as the “Tiger Room,” despite its lack of stuffed tigers. He didn’t want to know where the nickname had come from. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

Before heading downstairs, he transfigured his clothing back into their original state and removed his outer robes and vest, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and trousers. He passed the portrait of his father on his way out; it said nothing but stared angrily in his direction. When he returned to Snape Manor to assist his mother in preparing to move into St. Mungos, he had charmed the portraits in the house to become silent. He already knew what the majority of his ancestors’ thought of him, that he was a disappointment to Pureblood society, and he didn’t feel the need to be reminded at every given opportunity.

Unfortunately, all the portraits had anti-inflammation charms on them. He couldn’t burn them even if he wanted to.

In the kitchen he found Hermione talking to herself. Or at least that is what it appeared until he recognized Hilty. Hilty was the older of the two house elves, and wore a turban made of old dust rags. Hilty was soft-spoken and rarely rude, although she had developed a severe case of the shakes in the past few decades. Severus attributed it to nerves – his father used to whip the House-elves over the slightest infraction and his mother would yell. He had offered potions to help calm her nerves, but being a House-elf, she had refused, knowing it was her place and that she didn’t want to bother Master Snape more than she already had.

“Master Snape, you is home,” the House-elf bowed slightly. “Missy was going to make tea, but Hilty make it instead.”

“Thank you Hilty. This is Miss Hermione Granger.”

“Is Missy Granger young Master Snape’s mother?” The elf didn’t acknowledge Hermione directly.

“Yes, I am. You don’t need to call me Missy Granger. Please call me Hermione,” she insisted. “And you can go to bed, I will finish the tea.”

The house elf shook her head. “No, Missy Granger. Hilty make it.”

Sensing an argument, Severus grabbed Hermione’s elbow. “We shall take the tea in the lounge, Hilty. We will not need your services anymore tonight.” He began to tug Hermione’s elbow to lead her down the hall. “This way, Hermione.” Once they were out of the kitchen, he frowned. “Are you still chasing those dreams of S.P.E.W.? You should just leave Hilty and Flit alone. No matter how many socks I offer they will forever be trapped here.”

“And why is that?” she asked, although she wasn’t upset.

“They swore an oath to havemy Grandfather they would never leave,” he answered, realizing he was still holding her elbow and releasing it. “And they haven’t.”

Hermione sighed, “I suppose we mere mortals could learn a lesson or two in fidelity from them.”

Severus couldn’t agree more. They were both case in point.

He led her into the lounge. He cast a quick fire charm on the fireplace to help dispel the shadows and draft. By the large bay window, the two house elves had set up the Snape Christmas tree, enchanted to stay green and fresh for eternity. Lit with hundreds of fairy lights and full of silver, green and gold ornaments it was a magnificent sight to behold. He had no doubt Hermione and Hadrian would love it. It saddened him to think of all the Christmas memories he possessed, the only one that truly satisfied him was of this tree.

He was shocked out of his reverie by Hermione’s hand upon his cheek. “What is it? Are you all right?”

He shook his head to clear it. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You looked like you were hundreds of miles away. Where did you go?”

“No where worth returning. So you like the tree?”

Hermione’s eyes shone. “Like isn’t strong enough a word. The tree, the house…it’s all so breathtaking, Severus. I’m glad Hadrian is here,” she said softly. “I’m glad I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “You have been a very good sport about everything. My parents…didn’t make things easy for you.”

Severus chuckled. “No, your mother especially.”

Hermione laughed nervously. “Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “If I am going to be apart of Hadrian’s life, I have little choice but to accept all that is in it, his grandparents included. They obviously care for you very much and just wish to protect you both. I cannot find fault in that.” Severus motioned toward the loveseat by the fireplace, where Hilty had set a tray of tea and his favorite biscuits. He hadn’t even heard her enter, the mark of a good House-elf. “Tea?” he offered.

She accepted, taking a seat next to him. “Although I can’t blame her curiosity,” he added, placing the teacup into her hands. He noticed her fingers were strangely icy in contrast to his own. “She was under the impression that I was a lecherous old professor who had seduced her child, a young and impressionable witch, whom I then deserted. Had the situation been reversed, I couldn’t even imagine my own response.”

“Actually, my parents knew about the…incident.” Hermione’s cheeks reddened. “That is why I always encouraged an open dialogue with Hadrian, because I had one with my parents.”

“They…knew,” Severus let the words echo.

“When I told them I was pregnant and didn’t know if I could trust you, they didn’t rush into any judgments. They told me whatever my decision was, they would respect it and help in any way they could. I don’t know if you noticed, but my parents are much older than say Molly and Arthur Weasley, even if you don’t factor in magic. My father is ten years older than my mother, and my mother had me when she was thirty-five. They were very liberal in their teachings because of that.”

“So they weren’t surprised you had an affair with your professor?” he asked.

Hermione blushed again. “Well, yes, but they knew I would never be satisfied by any boy my own age. And they could hardly chastise the age difference, because by wizarding standards, we really aren’t as far apart in age as they are. They knew I respected you, had a “crush.” I don’t think they expected us to take it so far.”

“I wonder if you will be so open with such things when Hadrian starts dating.”

Hermione took a deep swig of her tea. “Probably not, no. If any harlot sinks her claws into my baby…”

Severus chuckled. “How quickly your liberalism turned to a dictatorship.”

“Why didn’t you ever get married, Severus?” she asked suddenly, startling him. She must have seen it in his face. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not used to such forwardness.”

“Decidedly no,” He put down his tea and leaned back in the loveseat, folding his hands across his upper abdomen. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“You haven’t met anyone who could have made you happy?”

It sounded like a question intended to pry, so he threw it back her way. “What about you? Have you met anyone who could make you happy?”

She didn’t answer right away. “There… hasn’t been anyone since you.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but that answer was certainly not it. Deep down, he had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant. It did scare him a little though.

“I was so busy with the baby and school, and even when Hadrian grew up, he played such an important role in my life along with work, my friends, my family…I never really had time to date. There have been…offers…but I was preoccupied and didn’t think about them twice,” she shrugged. “But I have always been independent. I have a family and friends for love and companionship, I make a good living at a job I love, and if I really wanted sex…” she left that unsaid, but he understood. She did know how to take care of herself; of this he was well aware.

A brief, rather erotic memory of her showing him how flashed before his eyes and he almost smiled, catching himself before his emotions showed.

Why did it feel so awkward? He had cared for this woman, he had loved her, and he had bed her. Was he really over his anger and resentment towards her? Could he let it go so easily? Did she want him still?

Did he want her?

He knew the answer to that one. It was everything else he was uncertain about, and considering they now had Hadrian to factor into the equation, only amplified the ambiguity. Merlin, did he despise ambiguity. Almost as much as uncertainty, and yet as of late those seemed to be the only things he knew were real.

He yawned. He was so tired of thinking about everything. If Hermione and Hadrian weren’t in his life, this Christmas Eve would have been spent drinking alone by the fire in his rooms at Hogwarts and sleeping until dinner on Christmas day.

Yet that wasn’t the case this year. He had a son who he wanted to spoil with gifts, wanted to see the light in his eyes, wanted to even go play in the snow with. And he also had Hermione, whom he had no idea of what to do.

She leaned back beside him, echoing his yawn. Her eyes were semi-shut as well; she must have been as exhausted as he was. The past few weeks of understanding couldn’t mend the divide that separated them over the past decade…but it was a start.

He reached an arm over her shoulders. She instinctively leaned in closer, resting her head upon his chest.

They sat like that for a while; her curled up into his arms, both half dozing and half awake, appreciating the warmth of one another. They fell asleep in front of the fire, by the light of the Christmas tree, both smiling softly.

It was the best Christmas present Severus could have ever received.


Tbc…


AN: Thanks Ash! Have fun in London! This has been a labour of love (and love's lost in the character's cases.) I hope nothing is too predictable so far, and I like the fact no one minds the mushiness. I just can't shake that mood. Thanks for reading, and especially for reviewing.