A Christmas to Remember

A Winter's Night

Severus stared into the flame of the candle burning on his kitchen table. There was only a small bit of wick left in the candle, and the wax had pooled upon the plate. He had lived in this cabin for about a year now. After the fall of Voldemort, he could not make himself stay in wizarding London; not when everything reminded him of her.


The snow was falling softly outside, and Severus was feeling the solitude consume him, as it had for nearly four years now. Sometimes, on nights like this, he felt as though he could hear her calling out to him. She had made her choice. She chose to be with someone else, and he was not going to stay with her if she could not be happy with him. His life had been spent making enough people miserable without having to add the misery of the one woman he had ever truly loved.


It was hard not to miss Hermione on a regular day, but on a day like this, it was impossible. Even if she were there, sighing in exasperation at him for something or other, he would be happy. All he wanted to do was hold her, feel her delicate frame against his body, her soft hands in his own.


She had made the choice, though, and who was he to try and stop her? He felt that this was perhaps the gods’ way of punishing him for the many misdeeds of his life. This pain was worse than death, but he was undeserving of death.


//The lamp is burning low upon my table top

The snow is softly falling

The air is still within the silence of my room

I hear your voice softly calling

If I could only have you near

To breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

Upon this winter night with you //


He took a deep drag of his cigarette. He had never been much of a smoker, but he found it could be soothing when he needed something to help him forget about life, about her. He watched the wispy curl of the smoke as it drifted in the air before him. The white smoke stood out against the blackness of the air above his head.


He took another swig of his Firewhisky and read the letter yet again. He had been astonished to see the tawny owl tapping on the glass of his cabin. No one had written to him in months. He had certainly not expected a letter now. On second thought, Christmas was fairly close, so perhaps it was just a Christmas card from Minerva. She was virtually the only person to still keep in touch with him.


When he saw Hermione’s’ familiar pen, he nearly fell off his chair. He read the letter three times before stopping to light a cigarette and fill a tumbler with firewhiskey. He looked desperately between the lines, looked for some sign that she missed him as much as he missed her.


Severus,

I am sure you never want to speak to me again, and I do not blame you if you adhere to that want. I hope you
are well, and I wish you still lived in London. It would be nice to see you. I have a lot of things I would like
to say to you, and a letter just does not seem to be the appropriate way to say them. If you are ever in
London, perhaps we could talk. I miss you.

Hermione


She said she missed him, but that could have meant anything. It had been four years after all. She
was probably already involved with someone else, and just feeling guilty for her betrayal. He wondered if he should go to London and see her. Would it be too painful? If she was as miserable as he, he would not be closed to taking the risk of seeing her. Could his heart handle it if she was not lonely? If she did not still love him? Gods, how he missed the woman.


//The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead

My glass is almost empty

I read again between the lines upon each page

The words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart

That you were lonely too

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

Upon this winter night with you //


Severus looked up as the candle burned out. Light was beginning to pour into the tiny kitchen. He had been sitting at the table all night. He stood up and stretched, downing the rest of his firewhiskey. He shuffled over to the window and peered out, seeing the snow swirling all around, ice forming what appeared to be webs on the glass pane. He looked over at the now slightly rumpled parchment on the table. Could his fragile heart handle the risk of seeing her again? Could he make himself go back to London after leaving it all behind?


//The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim

The shades of night are lifting

The morning light steals across my windowpane

Where webs of snow are drifting//


He rubbed his face. Who was he kidding? Even if she turned him away, or was with someone else, how could he pass this chance up? She told him she wanted to see him. Even if all she could offer him was closure, seeing her would be worth it. If he could only breathe in the sweet scent of her hair again, touch her soft skin once more, even just to say goodbye, it would be worth it.


He walked to his study and took out a quill and parchment. His reply was simple, careful not to betray any eagerness or pain.


Miss Granger,

Perhaps I could come to the city soon. I find that like you, I have some things I would like to say. Some

things are best said in person, not through owl. I will return to London. Perhaps we could

meet at the Leaky Cauldron, where I will be staying on Christmas Eve, around three in the afternoon.

S. Snape.

Severus tied the parchment to his Raven, Noir. He retreated to his library and took a seat on the leather sofa. He swirled the glass of vermouth as he stared absently into the crackling flames. He wondered how she was doing, if she was happy. He wondered if she was still with the wizard she had betrayed him with.


His heart sank as he remembered finding the letter in her desk drawer. The words still burned him like a searing flame.


Hermione,

Last night was amazing. I never thought I would find such a beautiful, tender witch. I hope we can get
together again soon. When will your snarky boyfriend be out of town again? Making love in his bed was
very scandalous, and I loved it. Here’s something for you to remember….

Roger


There was a memory attached to the letter, and Severus saw a flash of Hermione’s brown hair, in his bed, with a blonde haired, well-muscled man, tumbling. He had withdrawn from the memory and gotten sick. He loved her. He thought she loved him. How mistaken he was.


When he confronted her, she had not denied it, but he thought he detected a glimmer of pain, a glimmer of regret in her sorrowful amber eyes. He tried to hold it back, but a tear crept from his eye anyway.


He missed her anyway, betrayal or not. He was still deeply hurt, but that did not change the fact that he loved her. He tried to imagine her soft touch, her petite body. He wished he could go back to a time when she was his, and his alone. Perhaps seeing her again would be a mistake…For a moment he considered not going, but then the prospect of seeing her, whether she missed him or not weighed against it. He would go, even if it was just to say goodbye forever.


//If I could only have you near

To breathe a sigh or two

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love

Upon this winter night with you

And to be once again with with you //


A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little chappie. I just wanted to let everyone know that I am not abandoning "Hold Me Close". On the 15th, my uncle who was only 52 years old passed away due to heart failure. I am taking it pretty hard. I am posting this one because it has been written for weeks, and I will still be posting the last chapter....most probably on Christmas Eve now. Please Review