Oblivion & Other Temporary Fixes

* * * * * *



The seventh day at breakfast, Snape informed them his services would probably no longer be needed.



Hermione was not so sure, but conceded the point.



"Well, I can always Floo you, if need be."



"Potter isn't likely to need further potions and you have access to the chemists at St. Mungo's," he assured her, forking up more eggs.



"It's not about Harry, Severus, but... you know what happened to me before the final battle."



The muscle in his cheek jumped as he recalled the Profundere curse she had taken directly to her lower abdomen, but he merely said, "Yes."



"Well. This is a bit sudden, I know, and in mixed company, but--"



"Do you want me to step out, Hermione?" Susan moved to stand, but Hermione touched her arm and shook her head.



"No, Susan. You're a good friend and it doesn't disturb me for you to hear."



She turned to the now-intrigued Snape.



"It's true I have access to the entire range of services at St. Mungo's, but that doesn't mean I may always wish to use them. One doesn't always wish to have one's private life on display, especially in the workplace. I would feel very awkward asking my colleagues for Conception Concoction or to cast a Fecilitatus Conceptio. I could make the concoction myself, it's true, but I know its efficacy is highly dependent on the skill of the brewer, and I was hoping to ask if you would be
willing to help. As for the spell, well, Neville could cast it, but frankly, unless it's DADA or Herbology related, even he admits his spell work is spotty at best. I always thought I would ask a friend. So... do you think you could assist me?"



Snape's mouth fell open in his shock, even as Susan beamed and supportively squeezed Hermione's other hand.



"Hermione, that's wonderful! Oh, you would make such good parents."



After a moment, Severus spoke, and his face remained even, although his tone indicated he was deeply touched.



"I would be honoured, Hermione."



* * * * * *



The eighth day found Harry waking up at dawn feeling weak, weary and not a little uncertain.



Susan slept, as she had been doing, by his side in the chair. He watched her now and felt a pang of distress.



She had been watching out for him for seven years and all she'd ever gotten for her trouble was his mouthiness. He had not deserved her kindness or her discretion these last few days. Snape had the right of it, he thought. If the Daily Prophet had found out about his waywardness, perhaps the negative publicity might have shamed him into better behaviour.



Suddenly her eyes opened and he found himself staring into the bluest, most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He blinked, even as she smiled at him.



"Well, then. Good morning."



"Good morning."



"Am I speaking to Harry Potter or Brian Evans, then?"



He blushed.



"All Harry, I'm afraid."



"So Evans was your mother's name, I hear?"



"Yes."



"Who's Brian?"



Harry smiled sadly.



"It's one of Dumbledore's names, the only Muggle-type one. I figured he wouldn't mind."



She nodded then shook her head.



"I disagree, Harry. Dumbledore would definitely mind the way you've been treating yourself these last few years. It's a disgrace."



To her surprise, he nodded, turning his head from her.



"I know, and you're right. I've been using his name and I'm ashamed of it now. I've done nothing good with it. Just gotten into trouble."



"Well, that was always what you were best at," she teased now, glad to be having a sensible conversation with him.



"That and DADA."



She smiled again. "Well, now that you don't need DADA skills, maybe you can find a way to use your power for getting into trouble."



"I don't see how."



"Well, maybe you'll find a way. For now, though, I'm sure you're starved. What say some breakfast? I can have Bimmy and Chives bring some up."



He pushed aside the afghan, preparing to stand when he suddenly blushed beet red and clutched the afghan to his privates. He had been stark naked under the afghan!



Susan fought the urge to smile again. It might not be very charitable of her, but she rather enjoyed seeing Potter so uncomfortable. He had made her life hell for years, so she felt a few days of discomfort were due her.



"Oh, yeah, we had to bathe you yesterday and as you'd been sweating pretty heavily, we thought it best to leave you au naturel."



Harry nodded, still blushing.



"Well, I'll fetch you some clothes. I think Grandfather Harley was your size."



* * * * * *



Severus was already working on the Conception Concoction when he heard someone calling him on his Floo.



Fawkes squawked at him as he hurried up the stairs from his basement laboratory to the sitting room, surprised to find Hermione smiling at him in his fireplace.



"Yes?"



"Severus, I normally hate to call on people at this hour, but I learnt at Susan's that you're an early riser, so I figured I'd ask if you'd care to share breakfast with us?"



He was nonplussed.



"Well, I just set some ingredients for your concoction to simmer. They will need to do so undisturbed for two hours, so while they simmer, yes, I'll be pleased to join you."



"Wonderful. Our Floo designation is Longbottom Manor."



* * * * * *



Grandfather Harley had, indeed, been Harry's size and the clothes she dug up were comfortably worn in, if a bit old-fashioned.



Harry felt peculiar in tweed trousers and a boiled cotton shirt, but he thanked Susan for the clothes, since his own had been mostly burnt away. The linen underpants were, on the other hand, an extremely comfortable surprise. He decided he would buy more of them in future.



He was also surprised to discover how weak he felt after getting dressed. He wasn't able to get down to the kitchens so Susan had the food brought to his bedside and, again to his surprise, ate with him.



It was the most pleasant meal he'd had in ages, and he told her so.



"Don't you ever eat at the Burrow? I know you used to frequent it when you were at school, and I know Molly is a wonderful cook."



The hard and bitter expression on Harry's face made her regret speaking.



"No. I don't go there."



She considered this. His anger did not seem directed at the Weasleys and she decided a little discussion might well help her understand Harry's situation and perhaps help alleviate some of her own work-related pressures due to his behaviour.



"Care to talk about it, Harry? I know for a fact the Weasleys don't think ill of you. I went to Charlie's wedding last spring and Arthur and Molly both still think the world of you. They were expressing concern at how you disappeared from the Wizarding World and when I spoke to Molly, she told me you never answered their letters."



"Oh, God... Charlie..."



Susan waited and Harry finally raked his fingers through his hair and looked at her in despair.



"I hadn't seen any of them in ages and last year, Charlie showed up at my door. I... I was going out so I told him I didn't have time. He drew a wand on me and I apparated. Never saw him again. Shite."



"Well, he probably came to invite you to their wedding."



"Yeah, I figured. Shite."



"Would you have gone?"



He looked stricken. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."



She drew in a breath and reminded him, "You didn't answer my question before. Care to talk about it?"



He gazed up at her, into those guileless blue eyes and felt his own water. He blinked away the tears and attempted a small smile.



"Maybe I should."



* * * * * *



Severus buttered a second piece of toast and reminded himself to take an extra long walk later that day. He had not eaten so well since he was working at Hogwarts and the unaccustomed full breakfasts, along with nourishing dinners, teas and suppers he'd enjoyed the past week were sure to play havoc with his midsection, which already displayed a tendency to pudge a bit.



"The Conception Concoction should be done in four days time," he said now.



Hermione beamed and Neville blushed a little, but kept eating without comment.



"I, uh... I'm honoured to have been asked to brew it."



Neville looked up at this and smiled.



"We were always planning on asking you, Professor. That is, once we both were established in our careers and Hermione felt comfortable enough with our schedules to figure out her pregnancy and the raising of the baby or babies."



"You intrigue me, Mr. Longbottom. How many children are you planning?"



"Sir, please call me Neville, and speaking just for me, I'd be happy with just Hermione if it turns out we can't have any."



"Oh, Neville," Hermione smiled tearfully. She leaned over to kiss him, then looked to Snape. "Speaking for myself, I'd like two, possibly three. I was an only child and it's difficult. I'd like my children to have each other to lean on, but if I can only manage one, then it will be loved twice as much."



"The concoction is powerful, but it doesn't always work," Snape demurred.



They both nodded.



"We know, but we want to try."



To their delight and surprise, Severus smiled.



"In that case, I shall endeavour to make the very best batch of Conception Concoction I have ever attempted."



* * * * * *



That afternoon, Severus had just finished setting the coils to capture the condensation necessary for the concoction base when his name was being called again from the Floo.



Fawkes squawked again and he snorted.



"I've never been so popular," he told the phoenix as he wiped his hands on a towel and headed for his sitting room, taking a few seconds to stroke the red-feathered head as he passed by.



Susan was at the Floo.



"Sorry to bother you, sir, but I have a question regarding the issue I needed your help with before."



"Of course, please come through."



Susan stepped in to Spinner's End, glancing around briefly, an Auror and Field Reverser's habit Snape knew, before waving her wand at the Floo to set a silencing spell on it, then getting to the point.



"Is one of the withdrawal symptoms melancholy?"



"It can be. In fact, mood swings are not unheard of. The entire process of withdrawal can take a few weeks, which is how long it takes for some chemicals to completely be purged from the system." Severus pointed her to his couch and sat in his customary chair. "Is Mr. Potter suffering depression?"



She nodded. "I spent two hours listening to him at breakfast, followed by an hour of having him cry on my shoulder until he fell asleep. I nearly called you then, but decided it wouldn't do his ego any good for you to see him like that, fragile as it seems."



"Mr. Potter's ego is far too large and imposing for me to ever consider it as fragile," Snape quipped.



She smiled, unoffended. "Your dislike of him is well known, but I'm glad to hear this is normal then. Is there anything else I can expect?"



"I don't dislike the boy. I just find him irritating," Snape admitted. He sighed. "I also do not wish him ill. Is there a particular subject that is distressing him or life in general?"



"It's the war, the Weasleys. Seeing Hermione again triggered some memories, I know. He kept saying he didn't deserve such a good friend."



"Yet he withdrew from her and the rest of his friends after the war."



"Too many memories, I think." Susan sat back. "He feels he was kept in the dark about Ron and Ginny Weasley so that he wouldn't stop trying to rescue Neville and Hermione. He feels they were sacrificed and that he could have saved them if he'd been told they'd been captured."



"Then he is a bigger fool than I credit him for." Snape sighed again, then sat up. "I will speak with the boy."



Susan was surprised. "All right. He's still at my estate and I have a confinement ward on him, but, sir -- he's not a boy anymore."



"No, he's a man who refuses to listen to others, never grew up, and whose folly has dragged you and I and Hermione into the spiral of destruction that he made of his life."



Snape did not allow her response, getting up and stepping toward his mantle where he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.



"I'll return before tea. I need to see to some potions I'm brewing around that time. Make yourself at home."



Then he threw the Floo powder into his fire and stepped through, stating, "Bones Estate."



* * * * * *



Harry was just getting up when a black cloaked figure strode into the room.



"Snape!"



"I see your powers of observation remain unaffected by this sojourn of yours into illicit potions. I'm here to speak with you, Potter, and I will only say this once. Ronald and Ginevra Weasley's deaths are not your fault. They are mine."



He paused, watching Harry's face, which only revealed confusion and concern. He drew in a deep breath and continued.



"I sent word via my Order contact that their situation was futile, and it was, make no mistake. I informed them it would be folly for anyone from the Order, but most especially you, to attempt to rescue them. I told them, in fact, that they were already dead, as it were, which became true not long after the message was dispatched."



"You what?"



"Think, Potter. The Death Eaters were desperate. There had been too many losses in too short a time and they wanted to send a message to you. Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger's imminent capture was a ruse, if they got away, fine and if, somehow, they had caught you whilst warning them, all to the better, but the real prize was the two people who would hurt Harry Potter the worst: the Weasleys.



"Your fondness for Mr. Weasley was publicly known since the Triwizard Tournament, and your protectiveness toward Miss Weasley was also publicly known since that incident second year, particularly to Voldemort."



"You called him Voldemort."



"That was his name. Do not interrupt. He wanted them dead. He wanted to torture them to death and to show the results to the Wizarding World. It was intended to drive you to act rashly and fall right into his hands. I could not allow that."



Snape paused, then went on in a quieter, but no less intense voice.



"You may interview the Lestranges or Lucius Malfoy if you like. I'm sure the Head Warden at
Azkaban would not turn down Mr. Harry Potter! But they will tell you exactly what I am about to. Mister Weasley was going to be tortured daily until the full moon, when he was to be left in a pit overnight with new werewolves Fenrir was bringing. Miss Weasley was not to be so... fortunate. Voldemort intended on allowing each man and any woman so like-minded, to assault her, starting with me. He planned to take pictures of the event and plaster them across the media. I recall the term 'He Who's Whore' being used as he informed us of his intentions. Then he planned to send you pieces of her until you came to save her."



Harry stared at him, white-faced with horror. Snape stared at him intently.



"Now, Mr. Potter. Would you have preferred they suffer this fate? Or was I merciful when, unable to effect their rescue or in any other way alert the Aurors, or send a message before they were to meet their fate, I offered them poison?"



Harry paled even further. "You..."



"Mr. Weasley thanked me. Miss Weasley told me to tell you, should you ever express regret over her death, that there was no other way and that she wanted you to be happy."



"You..."



Snape closed his eyes for a moment and Harry was shocked to see a single tear drip down that unmoving cheek. He opened them again to speak, ignoring the tear as he spoke in a harsh whisper that revealed a barely-controlled anguish.



"I may be a murderer, Harry James Potter, but I have never raped nor do I ever intend to. So you may blame my squeamishness, if you prefer, for their deaths. I would not have been able to gainsay Voldemort. In fact, he spoke with great delight of how he hoped to be able to tell you in great detail of what I, in particular, as the one you hated most, had done to both your friends. He was very disappointed when they mysteriously died. I informed him that Dumbledore had instructed all Order members to carry poison in case they were captured. I received this--" he suddenly ripped open his upper buttons to display his collarbones where a bump and a crooked scar revealed an old break. "--for my candour, and for not informing him sooner so they could be thoroughly searched. Now I stand here and wait to see what I will receive from you for my candour."



* * * * * *



It was just over an hour later and Susan was reading a potions periodical article about the use of potions in casting illusions when the Floo fired up and Snape stepped out. He was tousled, his expression a bit haggard, and his shirt was askew, his top buttons missing and there was a suspiciously damp spot on his shirt. He also looked exhausted.



She stood. "Is everything all right?"



Snape nodded.



"Potter is fine. I merely had a word with him about some misconceptions he had. I believe I can safely state that the air has been cleared."



Susan considered this, along with the raspy quality of his voice, but merely said, "Good. Then I'll be heading back home. Thank you for your time and assistance, sir."



"I remain, as ever, at your service, Miss Bones."



She smiled. "Will you ever call me just Susan?"



He nearly smiled himself. "I respect you far too much, Miss Bones."



"Touché."




* * * * * *



Harry looked a bit withdrawn when she returned, so she left him alone with the tea tray and went down to the kitchen where Bimmy was trying to show Maffy how to make biscuits.



"You add the baking powder just so."



Maffy watched, but her eyes wandered and her fingers kept creeping back to her pocket where her "knitting needles" poked out.



"Maffy, is you paying attention?"



"Maffy wants to knit more clothes."



"Maffy needs to learn how to make biscuits for Mistress and her guest."



"Mistress's guest needs clothes," Maffy pointed out, growing excited. "Maffy could knit him some!"



Before Bimmy could say anything, Maffy popped out of the room with a snap of her fingers.



"It's a losing battle, Bimmy," Susan smiled. "Maffy will find her place to belong. Don't worry."



"Mistress is a good Mistress, but if anythings happens to Mistress... Maffy would be given socks by any other Master or Mistress. It worries me, Mistress Susan."



"I know, Bimmy, but don't worry. Honestly. I'll have a codicil added to my will if you like, so that if anything happens to me, you and Chives and Maffy won't have to worry."



Bimmy's ears perked up.



"Oh, Mistress is kind! Bimmy will make Mistress's favourite dinner!"



She rushed to the larder.



"What would Mistress's favourite dinner be?"



Susan started and looked to the entryway where a tired-looking Harry stood, swaying. She hurried to him and helped him to a chair.



"You shouldn't be up."



"I've been in bed long enough." He made a face. "You never answered my question."



She smiled. "I'm partial to cottage pie."



"Sounds good."



"Then you'll have to stay for dinner."



He considered this and looked around.



"I, uh, I know you're keeping me here. I tried to Apparate earlier."



Susan shook her head.



"I'm sorry, Harry, but I was assigned to you, as you know. This incident was bad, very bad. There were deaths, Harry."



He nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I know. I remember."



She sighed. "Right now the best thing you can do is keep out of sight. We've covered as best we can, better than we even dreamed, in fact, but it won't help if you go out again and--"



"I'm not going out." Harry sat back and she was surprised to see a look of determination on his face she had not seen since their days in the DA. "In fact, I'm never doing that again. My head feels clearer than it has in years and I can't believe no one, aside from you, has had the balls to try to talk to me before it came to this. I can't believe no one has had the balls to try and stop me from making an arse of myself."



"Aside from Severus, you mean."



Harry smiled wanly. "Yeah. He's a good man... under all that grease."



"Harry!"



"Sorry, can't expect a full reform in just a few hours. Give me time."



"You're incorrigible."



"I'm also very grateful." To her surprise, he took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Susan, thank you. For everything you've done. For saving me when I didn't deserve it. For protecting my reputation, even though I definitely didn't deserve it."



"Forget it, Harry. It's my job."



"And you do it well. I just hope you'll let me repay you for some of the effort you've put in."



She shook her head. "I don't need that, Harry."



He brought her hand closer to him, in toward his chest and the look in his tired, green eyes gave her pause and made her heart feel as if it skipped a beat.



"Maybe I need it, Susan."



* * * * * *



Four days later, Severus found himself on his knees before his fireplace.



Neville greeted him from the Floo in his dressing gown, and bid him come through, which Snape did with gratitude; his knees did not much appreciate making Floo calls.



"What can I do for you, Professor?"



"I thought I asked you to call me Severus, Neville?"



Neville blushed a little. "I'm sure I'll forget from time to time. Severus. There, I said it."



Snape could not help but smile. "It does take getting used to, I know. I was calling the staff by their titles the entire first year I was teaching."



Neville nodded. "I know about that. Pomona threatened to use the pruning shears on me if I didn't stop when I had to work with her four summers ago."



"Imagine addressing her that way at the Staff Christmas party."



"I'd feel a bit naff."



"Indeed. That is exactly how I felt."



Neville chuckled and then urged Snape to sit, following suit.



"So what brings you, Severus?"



"Is Hermione here?"



"She's sleeping in. She had a late night on the ward yesterday."



"Oh. Well, it's just that the Conception Concoction is done."



Neville cursed his complexion as he blushed again. "Oh."



"The preparation has to be kept simmering until you're going to use it, so I will, er, need to know..."



Neville's blush grew scarlet, even as Hermione strode into the room in a dressing gown over her nightwear.



"I thought I heard voices. Good morning, Severus."



"Hermione. Good morning. I came to inform you the Conception Concoction is done."



"Oh, excellent! And perfect timing." She beamed, then looked to Neville and said, "I'm off for three days, so there's no time like the present, right Neville?"



"Hm?" He looked up, still fighting remnants of blush, having ignored the conversation after Hermione's face-saving entry.



"I was just telling Severus that he can bring the Conception Concoction right now," she smiled.



Neville's blush flared up as if on cue. His mortification was complete when Snape chuckled slightly, as he stood. His comment in sotto voce was rich with humour and fellow-feeling.



"Not to worry, lad, I'll bring along some Virilitas with me, just in case."




It was only a few moments later, after Hermione had taken the Conception Concoction that Severus drew his wand and solemnly cast Fecilitatus Conceptio. Without further words and aware of the gravity of the situation, he bowed at them both and depositing a small bottle of promised Virilitas on the sitting room table, he swiftly Flooed back to Spinner's End.



* * * * * *



"Hermione..."



She smiled at her so beloved husband and the look in his eyes. This more than anything was what she loved about Neville. The look he gave her each time before they made love made her feel as if she was the most beautiful, the most cherished thing he'd ever seen in his life.



"I'm ready, Neville."



He smiled shyly, still shy when it came to sexual matters despite all their time together.



"It almost feels like our first time."



"I know. Oh, Neville, please... make love to me."



"Whatever the lady wishes," he murmured, stepping up to take her hand in his, kiss it, then he hurried them back to their bedroom.




* * * * * *



"Up for pizza and a movie?"



Susan smiled at Harry from her desk.



He had so far, stringently kept his word to her. In fact, he had seemed like a whole new man, forgoing his usual nightly pursuits to come over to her estate for dinner. Since it kept him out of trouble, she had no complaint.



He had asked to take her out more than once, but that felt too much like a date to Susan, and she wasn't sure what he intended with his newfound attention -- friendship or gratitude or what, so she declined. So he had brought dinner last night, introducing her to lamb vindaloo.



"Pizza?"



"Yes, a round Italian sort of cheesy bread with tomatoes and spices and sometimes meat and vegetables."



"I know what pizza is, Harry, I was just wondering what would make you want to eat one."



His face fell. "You don't like pizza?"



"Well, I always heard it was a form of snack, not a food."



"No, it's a food. If you like I can bring salad, as well."



"Oh, Harry." She sighed fondly at him. He was so enthusiastic, like a puppy.



She wondered now if he had always been this way. She'd known the kind and determined Harry in the DA. She had read about the supposedly demented and confused Harry in the Prophet and Tattler. She had first hand experience with tormented Harry these last few years. Now... she wasn't sure what to make of this Harry. But she liked him, she decided.



"All right. I'll try pizza. What movie?"



"I've got a DVD player that I got to work with a charm. I've got tons of movies. Is there anything you especially like?"



"The last movie I saw was when I was a girl. Something about a man that could fly."



"Great. I'll bring the Superman series. We'll make a night of it."



* * * * * *



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