Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.

Several points to be related following the discussion on WIKTT:

* Hermione\'s willingness to expose Aubrey to Snape: first and foremost, I have great belief in children\'s ability to sense and recognize people who are dangerous or unhealthy to them in any way. It doesn\'t mean I intend for children to run freely in the strefollfollowing nice strangers (God forbid), but I think it enough for Hermione – knowing the Snape of her youth (who was not the Snape who raped her) was an honourable person, supported by Dumbledore\'s current backup as to Snape\'s personality and by her own hunch – to encourage Aubrey to befriend with Snape.

* Hermione\'s forgiveness to Snape on the time of the act: giving the matter some thinking (do believe me I also gave it much thinking when I wrote the initial chapters of \"Breeding Lilacs\" and once again when those chapters been through beta-reading), it occurred to me, or at least that\'s what I\'ve come to think, that people doesn\'t submit this act of Hermione to moral judgment, but rather to self-comparison. Would I, were I to be there instead of Hermione, would have acted the way she did? I don\'t know whether my answer would have been yes, especially seeing how angry I still am of inequities done to me in the past. I have forgiven these people, or perhaps just telling myself I had, but sometimes I\'m still furious and tearful and wish I could revenge them for the way they had disfigured my soul. Hermione, on the other hand, does have the knowledge her actions caused Severus to change his course of life, and turn back to the light. If this is not enough of a payment, I don\'t know what is.

But I\'m straying off the subject here- the issue I was relating was Hermione\'s forgiving Snape on the time of the act. Myself I have imagined Hermione crying, still dazed, shocked and terrorized, with this man she suddenly recognizes as her younger Potions Professor towering over her. She can see the desperation and sadness in his eyes, and perhaps because this is the only act of defiance she has left; perhaps because that\'s the only things she KNOWS to do; perhaps because his desperation makes him less her victimizer on more a human in some absurd way: she forgives him. There, on the spot. Sometimes I believe I would have done the same. Sometimes I don\'t.

* Hermione\'s singing Disney songs to Snape instead of kicking him in the balls: I can only talk out of personal experience, but personally I find that I cannot hold my anger, however justified, against a hurting person. I will talk to them later, demanding to receive an explanation, but when I see them hurt, my first instinct is try and stop the pain. And don\'t you dare calling me Mama Theresa, I\'m not. I\'m quite a bitch, in fact.

* Hermione\'s insistence to ignore Snape nastiness. Well, folks, let me introduce you to Severus Snape, a Potions Master: an overgrown, sadistic, egomaniacal child. Just read the canon. My Snape is also mentally fucked up, was an abused child, and suffers steady bursts of Cruciatus and other such niceties. If you believe this kind of person\'s defenses can be lowered by brutal attempts to breach them, you may try to write it in your own fic- but PLEASE: do not attempt to go into any form of mental therapy.

The only way to reach a person who had been so badly hurt is compromise- once and once again. Ignore (and by \"ignore\" I don\'t mean swallow and move on, but explain plainly and clearly you were hurt and that you demand they won\'t repeat their behavior, knowing they probably would) whatever nasty things they might have said to you and try, one more time, to reach for them. They hiss, they bite, they bark, they are poisonous: think twice before trying to interact with this kind of person. You probably don’t want to. But if you do, that\'s the way to do it. Slowly, insistently, and never forgetting the antiseptics. Because both of you are going to bleed. A lot.

My Hermione, after she had given the matter lots of thinking, came to realise that she believes the right thing to do, and difficult as it may be to everyone involved, is to acknowledge Snape\'s fatherhood of Aubrey. With this decision taken, she is determined to do everything in her power to turn Snape into someone safer for her daughter. And so it appears to be, herself.

* And a somewhat late installation to sum things up- the person who raped Hermione was not her teacher and not the man she found upon returning to the Wizarding World. The man who raped seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger was 20-22 Severus Snape, a Death Eater, an abused child, who hated the world, himself, and the girl who dared to forgive him. The man who raped seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger is probably the same ex Death Eater Snape who\'s depicted in many other HG/SS fics, in his youth. Is it easier to ignore the past iniquity one did to other women, than the injustice he did to you?

All in all, I believe people can and do change. And I believe in forgiveness. I have forgiven, under different circumstances, in order for me to be able to breathe freely. The person Hermione meets when she comes back to Hogwarts might not be a nice or likable person, but he definitely not a rapist, an abuser (no more than the canon Snape, that is), or anything of the sort.

- I also wish to assure you I won\'t stop posting the fic because of negative criticism. Many people told me this is not the way sane people would have handled the situation: I\'m actually sure that sane, complete, whole people would never have found themselves in this situation. Rape, and so does abuse, does not leave whole people to handle any situations at all.

So no, I won\'t stop posting, no matter what other people has to say, as I am assured of my story and of my character\'s behavior. However, I would remind you that criticism is welcome (not as in: \"I promise to accept\", though), and you can always drop your notes.

With that said- on to chapter 18.

Chapter 18 – Make Your Pain an Image of the Desert.


\"The Dark Lord is growing restless,\" Snape said dryly.\" The wind outside growled and battered the panes of the high windows at the back of the Headmaster\'s office, as if attempting to emphasize Snape\'s words. \"And he is growing tired of the evident lack of information,\" he added. \"From me in particular. I do not believe he is completely aware of my true loyalties by now – Voldemort\'s most obvious weakness is his tendency to believe that he is impossible to deceive. He\'s having hard time realizing that I\manamanaged to defeat his Legilimency. The Dark Lord\'s vanity is probably only thing to keep me alive by now, as I\'m no longer useful to him. I\'m sorry, gentlemen, but the Morrigan demands blood. There is no other way of playing this game.\"

Mad-Eye, nestling a teacup full of Ogden\'s aged Firewhiskey in his large, calloused hand, nodded in agreement. \"The ravens on the grove near my winter lodge have been freaking out recently- one of those fools, got himself trampled by some bloody Muggle vehicle, ended up sprawled all over the damn Muggle road, a mess of blood and feathers. They are clever creatures – they throw their nuts onto the roads, so the Muggle machines go over them and crack the nuts open. But this bird- he wasn\'t careful enough. Something distracted him…\" And Mad-Eye sipped his Firewhiskey, scanning the spacious room with his magical eye.

Low buzz of wizarding machinery filled the room, like the scent of sweets and pastry that drifted here and there in Honeydukes. The rich, lemony light of day, which usually lit every corners of the Headmaster\'s office, was replaced by fire-warmed darkness. Mixed with the cream and gold decorations of the room, it inspired an atmosphere of almost unpicked reality, with gold and silver threads descending from its unravelled rims. Seated across the room, were the members of The side of the light’s highest Council of War, also known as the DA – Dumbledore\'s Army – a label once jokingly applied to it by Harry Potter, and which hadehowehow stuck over the years. Snape had never cared for its origin. Following Mad-Eye\'s example, he scanned the room, his gaze resting briefly on each of its few occupants.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat in his usual place, his magnificent phoenix on his left shoulder, observing the meeting from behind his claw-footed mahogany desk. The ancient wizard, Snape noted, manifested his regular hearty detachment.

In front of Dumbledore and slightly to the right, under the portrait of Cathriona Bonham, sprawled on an overstuffed armchair, was former boy wonder and current Chief of Staff, the Auror Harry James Potter. The young man showed a characteristic air of clashing qualities, from the harsh curve of his jaw and the electrified hum of magic that surrounded him, to the inviting impression given by the clingy, worn-out cloth of his Auror\'s robe, and his easy smile. Potter, who never declined an offer of food – a habit that somehow reminded Snape of Aniko –, was currently nibbling on a saucer of biscuits, which he took with a strong, hot coffee.

Next to Potter, sat Boadicea O\'Byrne. The current head of Department of Mysteries, who had qualified as Unspeakable, was brilliant and restrained, gifted with the sharp instincts of a predator and the indrawn, intellectualized bloodlust of a human-being. She was a beautiful woman, with full, sensuous lips, high cheekbones, curved, well-shaped figure, and too much of a Ravenclaw for Snape to actually find her attractive. Pure intellect, with none of her passion directed toward human relations. A frigid bitch, if one wished to use a cruder term. Anna had once thought it would be fun to ask her former schoolmate to join them in a sexual threesome – O\'Byrne, though in no way unskilled, had been passionless and sleek and all too relaxed, an intellectual fuck was probably the best way to describe her. Afterwards, she had poured the three of them some Remy Martin – a cultured drink, she had claimed, referring to her schoolmate\'s many years affection for malt. Anna\'s taste for the burn, however, was just another thing Snape adored about his lover. He found himself amused at the Unspeakable\'s comment.

O\'Byrne was one of the two women currently attending the DA- the second woman was Maggie Trimble Macmillan; Marlene McKinnon\'s baby sister who had been attending Hogwarts at the time of Voldemort\'s first rise. Marlene, almost twenty years older than her sister, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Maggie had been seventeen when her older sister\'s work for the Order had finally ended with the brutal murder of Marlene, Marlene and Maggie\'s parents, and Marlene\'s husband and children by the hands of the Dark Lord\'s supporters.

The child of a well-known Dark Arts researcher Quentin Trimble and the famous herbologist, Phyllida Spore, Maggie was a clever, good-natured, stubborn Hufflepuff, about four years Severus\'s junior. She had been a prefect, then Head Girl, but resigned from that position when her parents were murdered. After finishing Hogwarts, Maggie Trimble spent the next ten years of her life dedicating herself to meticulous study of the Dark Arts. When at first, she attempted to join Aurory, Trimble\'s application was denied by current head of Auror Headquarters. It took Alastor Moody\'s intervention – back then, he had been one of the most important figures in the Auror Headquarters personnel – to pass Trimbs res request. In Aurory, she had met the ten years younger Liam Macmillan, uncle of Ernie Macmillan, married him, and the two now had three children.

Due to her delicate position during the second rising of Voldemort, Trimble Macmillan\'s membership of the Order has been kept a secret. Now, almost fifteen years after the Dark Lord\'s reincarnation, and retired from Aurory in order to oversee a small, elite group of Defense against the Dark Arts Experts, Maggie Trimble Macmillan was a highly esteemed witch and an important DA member. Right now, she was sitting in front of the fire, the light of thamesames entwining in her lush mane of red, silver-streaked curls, accenting the circles under her brown, expressive eyes.

A few feet away from her, still swearing under his breathe – something about his damn ravens – was the last member of the small Council of War. Mye Mye Moody had barely changed over the years, Snape noted to himself: he was still crazy, still paranoid, and still sipped his own blasted Firewhiskey from his own blasted teacup.

\"So…\" Dumbledore gathered the silence in his words, bottled it, and put it aside for the moment. \"What exactly are you telling us, Severus?\"

\"What Severus is telling you,\" O\'Byrne inteted,ted, \"is that if we wish to keep Professor Snape useful as a spy for any time longer, we must offer some kind tribute – to Voldemort.\"

\"Very cleanly stated,\" Snape said acidly.

Dumbledore nodded. \"And what is your opinion on the matter, Boadicea?\"

\"I say no. Voldemort suspects Severus. I can hardly believe he would provide him with any more useful information at this stage, no matter the sacrifices on our side. I say, \'End the game\'. Now.\"

Snape narrowed his eyes. O\'Byrne had a point, but they were walking on a very thin line and every piece of information that might be gained at this stage could affect the delicate balance of the scales.

Dumbledore\'s eyes moved to Trimble Macmillan who sat in front of the fire. \"Maggie- what is your opinion?\"

Macmillan removed her gaze from the swirling fire in the hearth. \"The information Severus had brought us so far had been priceless,\" she said quietly. \"Knowing what a crisis point we\'re standing at, it is highly possible to assume every piece of intelligence can turn the ends of the equation. Therefore, I believe that the decision we are about to take should be Severus\'s decision. He knows the Dark Lord best. If he says there\'s a chance that sacrifices on our side might produce results, I say we should listen to him.\"

The Headmaster gave Trimble Macmillan a nod of acknowledgment. \"Very well, Maggie. Alastor?\"

Mad-Eye shrugged, coughing a little as the movement made him choke on his Firewhiskey. \"Who\'s on our spare list?\" he growled. \"Think we could give him Fudge?\"

\"No, Alastor. I believe we have already been through that issue several times.\" Dumbledore shook his head, giving his old friend a somewhat desperate look. \"Myself, I should let you know; I oppose Severus\'s suggestion,\" the ancient wizard told them with quiet resolution. \"I believe Severus should terminate his spying at once. As Boadicea had already said, Voldemort is suspicious, and not likely to provide us with any more useful information. Voldemort\'s suspicion also puts Severus, who is one of our greatest warriors, at an enormous risk, which I wish to prevent. Thirdly, and as all three of you have managed to ignore – something which I find incredibly bothersome, the only way to even momentarily satisfying Voldemort involves sacrificing someone of our own. Betraying a friend or an ally – perhaps an innocent – something I hoped we should never have to do. But of course,\" Albus continued, his bright, silver-blue eyes resting on Harry Potter, who watched him closely in return. \"That is not for me to decide. You listened to us express our opinions on the matter, Harry. You know what each of us think. The choice is up to you. What should we do then? Should we send Severus back into the snake\'s den, buying Voldemort\'s trust with the blood of our friends, or should we cut off Severus\'s spying activities at once?\"

Snape looked at Potter. Hardly more than a child, barely twenty-seven, still vibrating of youth. And where were you at twenty-seven? asked the little blackbird in his head. It only then occurred to Snape that Potter was Hermione\'s age- had once been, in fact, one of her two best friends; a parent, just like Hermione. He had seen her earlier- she and Aubrey came down to the lab and helped him concoct a batch of Unrequited Love Potion, ordered by Poppy in honour of the coming Valentine\'s Day.

The child, it appeared, had shown genuine interest in the fine art of potions making. Therefore, he let her chop some roots, then stir the bubbling cauldron, surprised at the ease and grace she demonstrated. Aubrey Granger moved around a cauldron like a true Snape. He remembered her mother in her time, sharp, accurate and eager, never missing a single ingredient and always reaching a perfect concoction, but it wasn\'t with the natural grace which thirty-five generations of potions making imbued one.

\"You mean, about a thousand years of carefully inspected pureblood crossbreeding?\" Hermione teased, interrupting Snape\'s line of thought by wrapping her arms around his waist.

He merely shrugged at Granger\'s statement, nevertheless stiffening at the deliberate touch. Hermione made a point of touching him affectionately over the previous weeks. It was never more than a casual hug or a peck on the cheek, but every time she touched him, Snape found himself unnerved, as if she were pulling the ground under his feet and forcing him to walk on water. He closed his eyes for a moment, adjusting to the foreign sensation of simply being held – of warmth simply being warmth – for the sake of nothing at all. Perhaps it was pain, too.

\"I know I\'m not beautiful,\" Hermione murmured, referring Aubrey\'s natural grace with a hint of jealousy in her voice, \"I might not be graceful and delicate, and I also work franticly when preparing a potion, but I do produce a fine concoction.\"

Snape quirked an eyebrow. \"You are correct in all but one thing,\" he murmured, able to feel Granger\'s warm breath on his back. Whenever she exhaled, it seemed, her abdomen was drawn inside, as if she was pulling her body away from his. Gathering away her warmth only to be poured into the contours of his spine a moment later, when she filled her lungs with air.

\"Tell me where did I go wrong, then,\" came Granger\'s muffled voice.

\"You said you aren\'t beautiful,\" Snape answered. \"You should know better than that.\"

\"Well, that is very kind of you.\"

He sneered. \"Have you ever known me to be kind?\"

\"No, actually,\" Hermione admitted.

\"So don\'t expect an encore.\"

\"I won\'t.\"

She held him for few minutes longer, both of them watching the girl leaning over the massive cauldron, giving the simmering batch of Unrequited Love Potion a precise stir every 10.7 seconds.

Hermione, he knew, was momentarily under siege from the current bunch of flea infested Potters and their redheaded, Weasley mother. Surely Granger could not be allowing his bright, beautiful daughter to be friends with Weasley and Potter\'s little hybrids? As sure as hell she could… and she would probably say it was educational too – an introspective view into the local fauna; be kind to your inferiors; liberate the House-Elves. If good intentions were bricks, she could have paved a road to an Emerald City. Sometimes Snape thought that Hermione Granger ought to be waiting on the other side of one of the Department\'s of Mysteries closed doors, along with Life, Death, Time and Mind. That the man who once was Tom Riddle should cease existing upon seeing her, because she was too much for him to bear. But she was only too much for Severus Snape to bear – Severus Snape\'s personal demon, his private Nemain; her hands red from the river, where she had been washing bloodstained linens. His ashen haired Margaret.

With that in his mind, Snape returned to reality, hearing Potter breathe in deeply, and then exhale. The swish of air flowing past his lips was the only sound in the room. The young man was painfully quiet before he finally spoke. \"First, Headmaster, I\'d like to take the liberty to speak for my friends here,\" Snape snorted at that, receiving a sharp, irritated glance from Potter, who kept talking. \"And to tell you that none of us are ignoring the grave sacrifices that should be made- if I decide Professor Snape\'s spying should continue.\"

One thing to say in the boy\'s favor, Snape thought, was that he never avoided taking full responsibility for his own decisions.

Potter went on. \"But perhaps what you\'re forgetting, Albus, is that this sacrifice that I might command will be made for the common good. This is war we are fighting, and wars are never fair. Thinking that wars have losers and winners, is something creatures like Voldemort do. We know better.\" The Auror shook his head. \"As to my decision- I tend to agree with Maggie here- Snape knows Voldemort best. If he thinks there\'s still something useful he can learn through spying, then his spying should by every means continue. So what are yoyingying, Professor?\"

Snape arched an eyebrow. \"Are you asking me to make your decision for you, Potter?\" he drawled. \"I told you what the facts are. There is a strong possibility I\'ll be gaining some new, critical information, there\'s also a strong possibility I\'ll be Aveda Kedavra-d by Voldemort, and take an innocent life away with me. Tough choice, isn\'t it, Potter?\"

The younger man\'s eyes darkened with rage, but just as always, he didn\'t rise. \"All right,\" Potter said. \"Professor Snape, when is the next Death Eaters\' meeting?\"

The last time Voldemort has summoned him had been a week and a half ago. \"The next meeting should be held in several days time,\" Snape informed him.

Potter nodded. \"Very well. You will attend the meeting. We need to decide on the name you should give Voldemort when this meeting occurs. Since this council won\'t be gathered again this week, we should make that decision now. Any ideas, fellow DAs?\"

Dumbledore was slumped back in his majestic armchair, his usually twinkling eyes dim, chewing diligently on a Lemon Drop. O\'Byrne brow was wrinkled in concentration, as if she was considering a list of possible candidates. Mad-Eye had been scanning some buzzing, silvery object on the other side of the room, all the while, fixing his magical eye on Dumbledore. Trimble Macmillan, on the other hand, was tapping on her lower lip. \"Kingsley Shacklebolt,\" she said quietly. \"He is our best option if we want to obtain Voldemort\'s trust. He put almost as many Death Eaters in Azkaban as Moody did in his day, he has killed and disabled about the same number, and Voldemort and his supporters have been after him for ages. He and his family were placed under a Fidelius charm about five months ago.\" She sighed. \"Merlin only knows I love Kingsly dearly- fuck Merlin, I won\'t attempt justifying doing this to a friend of mine. But the facts remain just the same. Kingsley is our best choice. I only wish we had a way to remove his family –\"

\"I veto this idea!\" Dumbledore cried. \"There is one pre-Hogwarts boy in the Shacklebolt household!\"

\"I veto your veto!\" Potter called in return. \"Maggie is right. Kingsley is our best option and you know that. War has no winners.\"

The clever, old wizard sank back into his armchair.

Potter closed his eyes. \"Boadicea, I need for you to find us the name of the Shacklebolt’s secret-keeper. Professor Snape, a supply of your strongest Veritaserum would be most welcome. Headmaster-\" Potter stood up; his hand extended tentatively to touch the elder wizard\'s veiny, parchment\'s skinned fingers. \"I\'m so sorry.\"

\"That\'s all right, my dear boy,\" Dumbledore told him quietly. \"You were correct. War has no winners. Only losers. I had managed to forget that, Harry. I should thank you for reminding me.\"

Potter nodded, returning to his place. His nod was a signal to Dumbledore to take over the conversation once again. \"Very well, ladies, gentlemen, I believe we have settled all urgent matters. An evening meal will be served in the blue dining room to anybody who\'s interested. Myself- I believe I shall now retire to my room. Kindly excuse my early retirement. It has been a trying evening…\"

Several voices hummed their approval, but none made any notable sign of approaching the aging wizard. There seemed to be a mutual agreement, that the great wizard was beyond most of their reaches. Nevertheless, no one was surprised to see the Potions Master helping the Headmastut out of his seat, and ushering him out of the room.

\"Potter was indeed correct,\" Snape murmured as he helped Dumbledore move out of his heavy outer garment of purple and gold embroidered brocade. He folded the rich cloth; his movements sharp and accurate, not giving away even the slightest hint of emotion. \"The boy made a difficult decision. Wistfully right, and even though it might be one he would regret for the rest of his life, he still had the courage to take it.\"

\"True Gryffindor courage,\" Dumbledore said, and Snape wondered if, for the first time, he heard a hint of sarcasm creeping into the Headmaster\'s voice. Dumbledore\'s fingers, thin, and delicate, glided to untie the laces at the front of his robes. Snape moved to his side, freeing one veiny, crumpled arm, from the thick cloth, then another, until Albus was standing in front of him wearing only his old-fashioned underwear. Thin, exceptionally tall frame. Sunken chest covered by his beard, which was a beautiful mane of cascading Santa-white curls. Loose belly. Knobbly knee caps. There was hardly enough flesh to keep the rustling old bones together. And so, Snape kept talking about Potter, as if the younger man\'s courage would be enough to fill the empty holes of Albus Dumbledore\'s rapidly weakening body.

\"If I am to die,\" Snape continued, \"before all of this is over, tell Potter I was proud of him.\" He drew a long, flannel nightshirt out of an ancient armoire and pulled it over the older wizard\'s head.

\"Here\'s something I never thought I\'ll hear you say,\" Dumbledore told him, sitting heavily on his high, grandiose four-poster bed. Crouching, Snape leaned to remove the older man\'s footwear, lifting Dumbledore\'s feet to the bed.

Then, as if in an afterthought, Snape chuckled. \"Repeat it to anyone before you have verified my death, and I\'ll deny it.\"

Dumbledore\'s pale eyes drifted slowly down the embroidered silk of his bed curtains, until they had met Snape\'s dark, unwavering gaze. \"Sometimes, during the previous weeks, I have found myself daring to hope you might find it in you- to make plans for the future.\"

\"I-\" Snape halted, pulling himself a low, curved stool that probably adorned the room ever since the Bonny Prince Charlie had tried but failed to gain English crown. \"I admit I have entertained… several notions, but…\" He lowered his head, thumbing the bridge of his nose. \"Hope is elusive and deceptive. No Albus, I am not going to live it out and I better not fool myself,\" Snape finished bitterly.\"

\"Ah, my dear child,\" the old wizard sighed. \"If it were not for hopes, the heart would break.\"

\"He who lives on hope will die fasting,\" Snape retorted.

\"Well,\" Dumbledore watched him amusedly, \"you seem to plan on dying anyway.\"

Snape tightened his lips, extending his hand to remove the Headmaster\'s half-moon shaped spectacles. Stripped of the protective lenses, Albus\'s eyes seemed small, exposed – almost naked, carefully nestled in their fist-like eye-sockets. \"Perhaps death should come as a relief,\" he said to those pale, vulnerable eyes. \"Even if I\'d live to see the end of this- I\'m not sure I\'d know what to do with my life. They say life is the greatest gift: I\'ve been raped into existence, hated my childhood, boy and and youth, and was a bitter adult for all I can remember. I don\'t wish to go on like that, but- I would probably be able to do so. What I am not able to do-\" he shrugged his shoulders. \"She is not like anything I have ever known before. I am- compelled. She leaves me speechless. That is not- that\'s not what I intended to say.\" Snape shook his head. \"I don\'t think I\'m ready. I don\'t know if I\'ll ever be ready.\"

\"Man can be such fuckwits,\" Albus said calmly, light-blue eyes twinkling softly.

Snape gaped at the vulgar expression coming from Albus Dumbledore\'s lips.

The ancient wizard\'s eyes twinkled. \"You won\'t believe some of the expressions I\'ve picked up from Minerva over the years.\"

\"Is that so?\" Snape remarked sarcastically. \"So now I\'m a fuckwit?\"

\"I\'m afraid to say you are, Severus. If you want something, go and get it. If she is your happiness, grab her and never let her go. And for Merlin\'s sake, stop blubbering about being ready- have you ever known a baby ready to face the cold air outside their mother\'s womb?\" He roared. \"Life is what happens to you when you\'re not ready!\"

Snape glared at him. \"You are missing my point!\"

\"And what would be your point? Aside from being afraid to live?\"

\"My point – Albus – I don’t know if I can.\" He breathed deeply. \"I\'ve grown numb. Well, why am I talking about this anyway? Am I expected to sing yolulllullaby?\" The Granger girl had once asked him to sing to her, and Snape found himself chanting a Leonard Cohen song that always reminded him of Aniko.

…Well I lived with a child of snow
when I was a soldier,
and I fought every man for her
until the nights grew colder.

She used to wear her hair like you
except when she was sleeping,
and then she\'d weave it on a loom
of smoke and gold and breathing…

And Hermione stood in the doorway, with her hair falling to her waist in a mess of wet curls after just having taken a long bath, smiling softly. The firelight from the living room wrapped her small, ripe figure. Like a veil of glowing liquid.

A soft flutter of wings fogged the vision as Fawkes, now a mere chick, landed on Dumbledore\'s pillow.

The Headmaster smiled. \"You have insulted my song-bird, Severus, by suggesting you should sing me a lullaby.\"

Snape made a sound in the back of his throat. \"I offer my sincere apology to your song-bird, if that is, indeed, the case.\"

\"Fawkes wishes to let you know your apology had been accepted.\"

\"Albus, if I remember correctly, we have just celebrated your hundred and sixty-fourth birthday last spring?\"

\"Well,\" Dumbledore said, \"there comes a certain age when a man\'s life takes a surprising turn, and we find ourselves walking once again the paths our youth and childhood had led us through.\"

\"If you are referring what the Muggle call Alzheimers or Senility,\" Snape told him icily, \"I should inform you that those are ailments unknown to the Wizarding kind, and therefore there is no reason you should be suffering them.\"

\"You\'re an impudent child,\" Dumbledore said kindly. \"But I love you nonetheless. Very well, Severus. This old man needs his sleep, and you need to keep your reputation as the castle\'s resident vampire, lurking the corridors and scaring the living hell out of my student body.\"

Snape smirked.

The Headmaster seemed to smirk as well.

* The chapter\'s title is taken from Yehuda Amichai poem \"Do Not Accept\".

* Morrigan was the Celtic goddess of war and death who could take the shape of a crow or raven. She is associated with the sometimes frightening aspects of female energy, and is wife to Dagda. As one aspect of the Celtic triple goddess, Morrigan is seen washing bloody laundry prior to battle by those destined to die.

* Nemain; One of Morrigan\'s three incarnations. Nemain – Frenzy.

* \"If it were not for hopes, the heart would break.\" – Thomas Fuller.

* \"He who lives on hope will die fasting.\" – Benjamin Franklin.