Remember When It Rained
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
5,165
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
5,165
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Eighteen
Remember When It Rained
Chapter Eighteen
Remember When It Rained
Part One
The rain fell to the thirsty Earth, washing away the blood shed in the final battle of the great war.
A dark caped figure walked slowly through the downpour, unaware of rain soaked robes, intent on making its way to its destination. All around the storm clouds swirled, lightening slashing through the darkness, lighting the path ahead.
There, against a stony wall, leaned another figure. It moved not, even as the rain slashed at it, lifted and driven by the rough winds. A hand reached toward the cloaked sentinel as feet slipped and grabbed for purchase on the slippery ground below.
“Severus!” came a plaintive moan. “Severus!” It’s body transforming into a phoenix and taking flight in spite of the desire to stay to Earth. Fleeing upward into the storm clouds and the moon beyond.
“Hermione!” The phoenix heard as it winged away, seeing the black figure at the wall fall to the ground. “Hermione!”
His eyes snapped open, his vision filled with the stark whiteness of a cracking ceiling.
He was alive! Alive and at Hogwarts.
He closed his eyes again and made inventory of his body. His arms and legs felt intact, his head felt there except for the pounding headache that throbbed behind his eyes. He flexed his fingers and curled his toes. He moved his head gingerly from side to side. All seemed in place.
What had happened?
Then the memories returned. Crutatious. The beatings. The torture. How had he gotten back? Had he been in time?
“Quiet yourself, Severus,” the Headmasters voice soothed his ears. “All is well.”
~*~
Even though she sat on the sofa in front of the giant fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, she felt alone. Alone in spite of the chatter all around her, the excited chatter of teenagers contemplating a party.
‘A party.’ she thought to herself feeling rather flat. ‘What’s the point when her girl friend was dead along with so many others?’ Sure Voldemort was dead and Harry Potter had beat the dark wizard, but she wasn’t in the mood to party.
Severus had remained in his coma for the whole two days she had been kept in the Infirmary while Madam Pomprey treated her for shock. He had lain there unmoving, o his steady breathing the only sign of life from him. She had wanted to be by his side, to go to him and whisper in his ear that all would be well. But she was afraid of being discovered by Dumbledore or her friends and she wasn’t sure whether or not there was any point to it anyway.
The nights were the worst. The quiet ward felt oppressive and she found herself staring across the room at the shape of her beloved as he lay in coma, oblivious to the victory that had been won. Won because of his sacrifice.
Madam Pomprey said he would be fine, would eventually recover from the injuries he had sustained during his final calling, but her words did little to comfort Hermione as she watched Severus lay there unmoving.
In those hours her love for him grew beyond anything she would have thought it capable of and solidified into something solid, steady and sure.
Her friends had visited, including Molly and Arthur Weasley who tried to smile through their tears. The had each smothered her with their loving hugs and cried with her at the devastating loss of Ginny.
“My darling girl!” Molly had exclaimed. “Ginny gone! You are the closest thing to a daughter I have left now, Hermione. Oh! Poor Ginny!”
Her anguished words echoed in her head now, her chest felt tight with tears and pain. Hoping to keep herself from breaking into tears, she glanced around the room, her eyes alighting on Ron. Who was trying to keep up a brave front, but his eyes were rimmed in dark circles and his face pale from grief. Poor Ron. Surely he didn’t like the idea of a party so soon after his sisters’ death?
“Hey Mione,” the gentle voice of Harry Potter caressed her ears and she turned to him and gave him a small smile. “What are you doing there?”
“Thinking.”
He looked at her with smiling eyes, “That’s our Mione, always thinking. What are you thinking about?”
She sighed. She really didn’t feel like talking now. Not about Ginny or the others. Severus was on her mind. So she answered as truthfully as she could,
“Nothing Harry. Just the ball. Are you bringing anyone?”
He blushed and chattered on about Padma’s going to the ball with him, and she let him go on as her mind wandered back to the man lying in the Infirmary several stories below.
Eventually they all went up to bed, leaving her alone in front of the dying fire.
~*~
The candle by his bedside was the only illumination in the darkened Infirmary. The light softened the harsh lines of his face giving him a rested look in spite of the two week beard on his chin.
He’d have killed for a proper razor. Yet seeing that he wouldn’t be getting his hands on one anytime soon, he instead contemplated the words of Albus Dumbledore earlier that day.
He was free. Voldemort was dead. They had won, but at a cost. Albus hadn’t wanted to tell Severus of the losses suffered so soon after his awakening, but Severus had insisted as he struggled to sit up against his pillows.
Ginny Weasley was the death that had moved him the most. Molly and Arthur were two people he held in high esteem, and they were surely heartbroken.
Draco Malfoy, died dueling her, died fighting for Voldemort. Died because he had been born into and raised in a bigoted family. He hadn’t stood a chance, even though Severus had tried in his own way to show him that he had. Another failure of his life.
Albus had told him that he was proud of his work, the sacrifices he had made. He had said that he was redeemed. Then he casually let mention that Hermione had been in the bed across from him for an entire two days while she was being treated for her injuries and shock.
Severus had pretended to be disinterested. Dumbledore had merely twinkled at him as he departed.
Now he was thinking about Hermione and the dream he had of her. The dream that had brought him back to wakefulness.
Now that the war was over and soon the term would be, what exactly did he want to do about Hermione?
~*~
The night before the ball was stormy. As had been the week leading up to it, although the storms were emotional. Classes had been called off as there were parents visiting or students leaving to visit parents.
Hermione had been studying in spite of the absence of classes. Anything to keep her mind busy, to keep her wondering about Severus.
They saw one another for the first time in the Great Hall at breakfast. He was just there, sitting in his usual spot as if nothing had happened. She had heard that he had awakened from his come and had attempted to visit only to be turned away by Madam Pomprey.
The following day was Ginny’s funeral and she had stayed at The Burrow to help take care of the Weasleys. Molly wanted her around and so she stayed. She would have stayed longer, but Arthur and Molly insisted that she and Ron and Harry get back to school and attend the ball. For Ginny. She would have wanted that, they had said.
So she went back and there was Severus at the Head table. Their eyes met across the room and held. She didn’t remember eating.
That was all she saw of him. He had sent her a note via Dobby calling off their lessons for the week, and asking her to consider putting her apprenticeship on hold for a year to give her time to recover.
She read the letter and wept.
As she was doing again tonight, alone in her room as the thunder boomed outside and the rain taped violently on her windows. He was rejecting her.
Crookshanks tried to cuddle his troubled mistress, but she gently set him aside and instead donned her robes.
She couldn’t stay indoors any longer, the walls were closing in on her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to rage. Rage at the unfairness of it all, the loss of her classmates, the loss of her friend, the rejection she had received from the man she had come to love.
The rain would wash it all away. Her mother liked to say that it all came out in the wash after all, perhaps she was right. Either way she couldn’t stand another moment in the keep. So she made her way out into the weather, not caring that she was walking into one of the worst storms to hit the area in over fifty years.
Chapter Eighteen
Remember When It Rained
Part One
The rain fell to the thirsty Earth, washing away the blood shed in the final battle of the great war.
A dark caped figure walked slowly through the downpour, unaware of rain soaked robes, intent on making its way to its destination. All around the storm clouds swirled, lightening slashing through the darkness, lighting the path ahead.
There, against a stony wall, leaned another figure. It moved not, even as the rain slashed at it, lifted and driven by the rough winds. A hand reached toward the cloaked sentinel as feet slipped and grabbed for purchase on the slippery ground below.
“Severus!” came a plaintive moan. “Severus!” It’s body transforming into a phoenix and taking flight in spite of the desire to stay to Earth. Fleeing upward into the storm clouds and the moon beyond.
“Hermione!” The phoenix heard as it winged away, seeing the black figure at the wall fall to the ground. “Hermione!”
His eyes snapped open, his vision filled with the stark whiteness of a cracking ceiling.
He was alive! Alive and at Hogwarts.
He closed his eyes again and made inventory of his body. His arms and legs felt intact, his head felt there except for the pounding headache that throbbed behind his eyes. He flexed his fingers and curled his toes. He moved his head gingerly from side to side. All seemed in place.
What had happened?
Then the memories returned. Crutatious. The beatings. The torture. How had he gotten back? Had he been in time?
“Quiet yourself, Severus,” the Headmasters voice soothed his ears. “All is well.”
~*~
Even though she sat on the sofa in front of the giant fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, she felt alone. Alone in spite of the chatter all around her, the excited chatter of teenagers contemplating a party.
‘A party.’ she thought to herself feeling rather flat. ‘What’s the point when her girl friend was dead along with so many others?’ Sure Voldemort was dead and Harry Potter had beat the dark wizard, but she wasn’t in the mood to party.
Severus had remained in his coma for the whole two days she had been kept in the Infirmary while Madam Pomprey treated her for shock. He had lain there unmoving, o his steady breathing the only sign of life from him. She had wanted to be by his side, to go to him and whisper in his ear that all would be well. But she was afraid of being discovered by Dumbledore or her friends and she wasn’t sure whether or not there was any point to it anyway.
The nights were the worst. The quiet ward felt oppressive and she found herself staring across the room at the shape of her beloved as he lay in coma, oblivious to the victory that had been won. Won because of his sacrifice.
Madam Pomprey said he would be fine, would eventually recover from the injuries he had sustained during his final calling, but her words did little to comfort Hermione as she watched Severus lay there unmoving.
In those hours her love for him grew beyond anything she would have thought it capable of and solidified into something solid, steady and sure.
Her friends had visited, including Molly and Arthur Weasley who tried to smile through their tears. The had each smothered her with their loving hugs and cried with her at the devastating loss of Ginny.
“My darling girl!” Molly had exclaimed. “Ginny gone! You are the closest thing to a daughter I have left now, Hermione. Oh! Poor Ginny!”
Her anguished words echoed in her head now, her chest felt tight with tears and pain. Hoping to keep herself from breaking into tears, she glanced around the room, her eyes alighting on Ron. Who was trying to keep up a brave front, but his eyes were rimmed in dark circles and his face pale from grief. Poor Ron. Surely he didn’t like the idea of a party so soon after his sisters’ death?
“Hey Mione,” the gentle voice of Harry Potter caressed her ears and she turned to him and gave him a small smile. “What are you doing there?”
“Thinking.”
He looked at her with smiling eyes, “That’s our Mione, always thinking. What are you thinking about?”
She sighed. She really didn’t feel like talking now. Not about Ginny or the others. Severus was on her mind. So she answered as truthfully as she could,
“Nothing Harry. Just the ball. Are you bringing anyone?”
He blushed and chattered on about Padma’s going to the ball with him, and she let him go on as her mind wandered back to the man lying in the Infirmary several stories below.
Eventually they all went up to bed, leaving her alone in front of the dying fire.
~*~
The candle by his bedside was the only illumination in the darkened Infirmary. The light softened the harsh lines of his face giving him a rested look in spite of the two week beard on his chin.
He’d have killed for a proper razor. Yet seeing that he wouldn’t be getting his hands on one anytime soon, he instead contemplated the words of Albus Dumbledore earlier that day.
He was free. Voldemort was dead. They had won, but at a cost. Albus hadn’t wanted to tell Severus of the losses suffered so soon after his awakening, but Severus had insisted as he struggled to sit up against his pillows.
Ginny Weasley was the death that had moved him the most. Molly and Arthur were two people he held in high esteem, and they were surely heartbroken.
Draco Malfoy, died dueling her, died fighting for Voldemort. Died because he had been born into and raised in a bigoted family. He hadn’t stood a chance, even though Severus had tried in his own way to show him that he had. Another failure of his life.
Albus had told him that he was proud of his work, the sacrifices he had made. He had said that he was redeemed. Then he casually let mention that Hermione had been in the bed across from him for an entire two days while she was being treated for her injuries and shock.
Severus had pretended to be disinterested. Dumbledore had merely twinkled at him as he departed.
Now he was thinking about Hermione and the dream he had of her. The dream that had brought him back to wakefulness.
Now that the war was over and soon the term would be, what exactly did he want to do about Hermione?
~*~
The night before the ball was stormy. As had been the week leading up to it, although the storms were emotional. Classes had been called off as there were parents visiting or students leaving to visit parents.
Hermione had been studying in spite of the absence of classes. Anything to keep her mind busy, to keep her wondering about Severus.
They saw one another for the first time in the Great Hall at breakfast. He was just there, sitting in his usual spot as if nothing had happened. She had heard that he had awakened from his come and had attempted to visit only to be turned away by Madam Pomprey.
The following day was Ginny’s funeral and she had stayed at The Burrow to help take care of the Weasleys. Molly wanted her around and so she stayed. She would have stayed longer, but Arthur and Molly insisted that she and Ron and Harry get back to school and attend the ball. For Ginny. She would have wanted that, they had said.
So she went back and there was Severus at the Head table. Their eyes met across the room and held. She didn’t remember eating.
That was all she saw of him. He had sent her a note via Dobby calling off their lessons for the week, and asking her to consider putting her apprenticeship on hold for a year to give her time to recover.
She read the letter and wept.
As she was doing again tonight, alone in her room as the thunder boomed outside and the rain taped violently on her windows. He was rejecting her.
Crookshanks tried to cuddle his troubled mistress, but she gently set him aside and instead donned her robes.
She couldn’t stay indoors any longer, the walls were closing in on her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to rage. Rage at the unfairness of it all, the loss of her classmates, the loss of her friend, the rejection she had received from the man she had come to love.
The rain would wash it all away. Her mother liked to say that it all came out in the wash after all, perhaps she was right. Either way she couldn’t stand another moment in the keep. So she made her way out into the weather, not caring that she was walking into one of the worst storms to hit the area in over fifty years.