If You Would Only See

CHAPTER TWO: Questions


Hermione was late getting to the Warlock’s Inn. She hated being late, but her intriguing afternoon customer had distracted her. She saw him as soon as she entered, sitting at a table by a blazing fire. He stood, waving at her, a smile lighting up his face.
“Hello my darling.” He said, hugging her tight, and kissing her cheek.
“I’m glad your back.” She said, returning his embrace. He pulled out her chair, seating her before returning to his own chair.
“Me too, I despise Italy.” He said with a sneer that reminded her of his father, though she would never say that to him. Draco wanted no part of the man. The fact that he looked exactly like him was bad enough.

“Oh, it couldn’t be that bad Draco.” Hermione reached for her glass of wine, sipping the sweet liquid slowly.
“You have no idea.” He said, snapping open his menu. “I think I would rather face a pack of death eaters than go back.” He muttered.

After asking her what she would like to eat, he ordered for the both of them. They chatted casually about his trip, about the deal he was putting together with another wizard based in Rome. She told him about the shop, her new house, Ron’s new car(enchanted of course), and Harry and Ginny’s latest pregnancy.
“Good lord, is he intending to keep the girl pregnant for the rest of her life?” Draco laughed.
“Well, she is a Weasley.” Hermione said. Despite her protest, he ordered desert, a chocolate torte covered in melted fudge and vanilla ice cream. He had a sweet tooth that was impossible to satisfy.
“Draco?” She wasn’t sure if she should bring it up, but she needed some answers.
“Yes, love?” He asked.
“Do you think it possible that Snape could still be alive?” Draco stared at her, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. He lowered it slowly; setting it on the side of is plate.
“Hermione, from what Harry told me, that snake ripped his throat out, and her venom was poisonous. I don’t see how he could survive.”
“But when we went back, there was no body Draco. Where did he go?” She asked, keeping her voice low so no one would over hear.
“Most likely the other Death Eaters took him for disposal, Mione. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at him, a sad smile on her face. “I saw someone today, someone who reminded me so much of him. It made me wonder if perhaps…”
“It’s highly unlikely. As his godson, I inherited most of his estate, if he were alive, he would have contacted me.” Draco said before picking up the bill and tapping it with his wand to pay.

“Your right, I guess I’m just feeling a bit low, and a tad nostalgic.” She stood, smiling as he helped her into her cloak.
“What do you have to be sad about?” He asked, offering her his arm as they stepped out onto the busy street. They were almost run down by a group of children; no doubt it was Hogsmead weekend at Hogwarts.
“Oh, I don’t know. I have no husband, no boyfriend; no babies….I think I’m lonely.” She said, frowning as she thought about it.
“You’re not the only one.” He said softly. She looked at him then, saw the pain in his eyes, and she felt guilty. The war had done more damage to Draco than many knew. He had been raped, tortured and mutilated to a point that he had been left unable to have an intimate relationship with a woman.
“I’m sorry.” She said, giving him a quick kiss. He smiled down at her, wondering how he could have ever hated her.
“It’s okay, I have more than I thought I would, I have you as my friend.” He walked her to the apparation point at the edge of town, deciding it would be best if he escorted her home as it was getting dark earlier now that fall was upon them.
“Do you need to go back to work?” He asked.
“No, the elves have it under control. Come, walk me home and see my new place.” She took his hand and with a slight, nauseating pull, they found themselves at the end of a tree lined street.

“Ugh, I hate that.” Draco said, placing his hand on his stomach.
“Oh suck it up, Ferret.” Hermione said with a laugh as she led him down the street towards her house. He stopped in front of her neighbor’s house. It was an old house, the wood siding had once been white, but had faded and peeled to a dull gray. The curtains were all closed, the yard unkempt. It looked like a haunted house in a muggle movie.
“Why don’t they tear it down?” He asked.
“Because someone lives there Draco.” She told him.
“Who the hell would want to live there?”
“I don’t know, I never see them. The neighborhood kids say it’s a dark wizard. I suppose he’s kind of our neighborhoods version of Boo Radley.” She said, tugging him along to her house.
“Who the hell is Boo?” He asked, still looking at the odd little house.
“He’s a character in a muggle novel.” She told him. He allowed himself to be pulled along a flower lined walkway, up a small set of steps and onto her porch. He looked down at a fat, smiling jack o lantern at the top of the stairs, a note stuck to it that read ‘in case you forgot, Luna’.
“You are still friends with that batty girl?” Draco asked, picking up the note.
“Oh, she’s not so bad Draco.” Hermione opened the door, and he followed her inside. Her house was rather small, nothing like the manor house he lived in. It was cozy, filled with antiques and plush, overstuffed furniture. It looked like her, smelled like her too, that undeniable mix of vanilla and lavender. He looked over at her as she put her cloak into the closet. He loved her, but he knew he could not have her, or any woman. He was happy being her friend though. But he wished it could have been different.
“Well?” She asked.
“I could fit your whole house into my dining room.” He said looking around.
“Oh, you snotty prat!” She slapped his arm playfully.
“Its perfect for you love. I wish I could stay, but I have to get back.” He kissed her cheek and she walked him to the door. He stood on the porch and stared at the house next door.
“I really can not believe anyone would actually live, willingly, in a place like that Hermione.” Draco said.
“Maybe they have no choice Draco, not everyone is born into money.” She chastised softly.
“I know, I don’t mean to be snobbish….maybe I have more of my father in me than I like to believe.” He looked disheartened at the thought.
“I like to think that everything good in Lucius, went into making you.” She reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers gently.

She wished, with everything in her, that things could have been different for him. He was a good man, through and through, but only because he had been freed from the clutches of a father who just could not love him. Hermione now understood that so much of his horrible behavior had been a direct result of being denied the love of a parent. He had acted out in the way he thought would gain him his father’s love and attention, but in the end, he just wasn’t capable of the evil his father intended for him

“You are too good, Hermione.” Draco said with a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze to his hands. “What would I do without you?”
“You never have to worry about that, because you always have me.” She said with a smile, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“Goodbye, I’ll owl you next week for lunch.” He said before skipping down the steps from her porch, glancing back at the old house next door one last time before heading down the street, and vanishing.

Hermione didn’t see the curtains stirring from the front window of her neighbor’s house as she turned to walk inside. Just as well, he preferred to be left alone, it was better for all involved if they continued to believe him dead. He walked into his study. He bore the slightest limp, an after effect of the venom that had tried so hard to destroy him. He stopped to glance at his reflection in a mirror hanging in the hall. His hair was still black as pitch, with just the slightest hints of silver beginning to show themselves. There were a few more lines about his eyes that had not been there before the war. He could see the faint lines of the scar that marred his neck and jaw peeking over the high collar of his jacket. His obsidian eyes were empty. Severus Snape was a mere shadow of the man he used to be.

He sat in a large leather armchair before the fire in his study, his feet resting on the matching ottoman. From the outside, his house bore a glamour to make it seem dilapidated and worthy of condemnation. Inside, it represented Severus and his taste perfectly. Deep, rich colors and fabrics, dark wood and classic art, all chosen to soothe him and keep him comfortable in his life as a recluse. He ventured out once in awhile, mostly to purchase books. He had his groceries and other necessities delivered to his door. Mostly, he just stayed away, choosing to remain alone. He was no good to anyone now, no one mourned him, for no one knew him. After so long pretending to be someone else, he wasn’t sure if he really knew who he was.

He had been somewhat surprised to see Draco escorting Hermione home. He had thought it such an odd twist of fate that she had bought the house next to his. The strange coincidence had left him pondering for days his lack of good luck. But this was the first time he had seen Draco since the war. He had last seen him as a boy, beaten, bloodied and violated, lying in a cell in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Everything in him had rebelled against the treatment the boy had received, and even now, he felt the bile rise in his throat that the boy’s abuse had come on the orders of his own father.

He hoped that Tom Riddle and Lucius Malfoy both were enjoying a long and torturous afterlife in hell. He knew that the order was responsible for the survival of Draco Malfoy, and he was grateful. He had been truly fond of his godson, and was sorry that the boy had been landed with Lucius as his father. He had stood there in the window and watched as Draco escorted her home, stopping to stare at his house for a moment. They had gone inside briefly,and then exited again moments later. He was astonished as he witnessed the intimacy between the pair. Were they a couple? Even from a distance he could feel the unfamiliar energy of real affection that radiated between them.

Knowing that Draco was loved, and cared for by someone lifted a small, minute fraction of the guilt that Severus carried on his shoulders. It was a shame that it could not relieve him of its entirety. What was it like? He wondered, to be forgiven by those you had wronged. To have the very people you hurt open their arms to you, embrace you and offer you solace. Was that the key to letting go? Forgiveness?