The Unfortunates

Here we are. It\'s longer than usual! Beat that. Hope you enjoy it; it\'s been slightly challenging to write, for obvious reasons.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: A LONG-EXPECTED REUNION


Harry thought he’d run a lot in his life, and that he’d never get a chance to run with such speed and need as he had back in his earlier years ever again.

He was quite clearly wrong.

He was running, like he never had before, not caring if he in actuality was too tired to run, not caring if he crashed into doors as he slammed them open, not caring if Hermione couldn’t keep up... He had to see it. See that she was telling the truth; see that this wasn’t just some horrible lie the universe served him.

He reached the front doors of Killengreen, threw them open with intensity and ran down the frosty slope of the hill, his feet moving with even greater speed as he caught sight of the group of people in the darkness.

“Harry!” Hermione was shouting from somewhere behind him. He didn’t turn or stop.

His eyes were scanning the small crowd as he ran, desperately searching for what he yet, even now, refused to believe was there. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t; if this was another false alarm, another one of fate’s japes...

It wasn’t.

Harry was running faster, almost tripping, and he reached the bottom of the hill, and at that moment Ron could see him; and he did, turning and spotting his best friend in the whole world, a friend he’d had to live without for these six horrible months; these months of hell...

“Harry!” he bellowed; neither he nor Harry himself seemed to care that the shout of desperation and disbelief could sound sappy or romantic; it was neither, it was only a shout of great relief and joy which words cannot describe.

Within seconds, Harry and Ron had reached one another, and before either of them even stopped their running they hugged, grasping each others backs and shoulders, not caring if they looked pathetic or weak or gay or anything else, for that matter. Harry cried, openly, into Ron’s shoulder, and he thought he could hear his friend do the same thing.

A third party reached the two of them; grasping both their shoulders and pulling herself into their hug was Hermione, weeping along with them, and they both grasped her back. None cared now what they must look like, that they probably appeared cliché and overdramatic.

They were together again. Three people who had been separated, believing for the last six months that both the two others were dead. One could hardly blame them for being emotional.

--

“Professor, if you would please sit back down...”

“I am fine, Miss Weasley...”

“Well, you’re hardly fine...”

“I honestly doubt your ability to –”

“Sit down, Sir,” demanded Miss Weasley impatiently; it appeared she was at the end of her tether with him as she roughly pushed him back down into the winged armchair, thus ending the discussion of whether or not Severus would be allowed to leave the room in the nearest future.

At that moment, the door flew open. In its wake stood Bill.

“Severus,” he said; he was heaving slightly for breath, “I hope to gods you’re well enough to walk, because you have got to come outside with me...”

Severus couldn’t help himself; he turned his head to quirk a satisfied eyebrow in direction of Miss Weasley before climbing to his feet – struggling for a moment with the threatening dizziness – and moving with careful steps after Bill out and off towards the entrance doors.

“What is this all about?” asked Severus as Bill rushed to assist him down the stairs, apparently in a great hurry to get outside as quickly as possible. Severus pulled his arm free of the Weasley’s grip; he wasn’t about to be escorted anywhere.

“It’s – it’s my Father,” said Bill, his voice shaky with disbelief, “and Ron, and at least ten others... They’re outside – now!”

“They’re what?” Finally Severus caught up with the actual seriousness of the situation. “You mean to say Mr. Weasley is here? At Killengreen, with others?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“How –”

“Hermione brought them.”

The sentence was almost like a smack in the face to Severus, and without hesitation he sped up, knowing that it could worsen his sickness but not really caring. His Hermione was outside, right now, and if she’d brought others with her that meant she was alright... It meant Draco hadn’t got to her...

It meant – Severus drew a deep breath – it meant she was back with him.

He couldn’t believe how overwhelming the thought of seeing her again was; he knew he cared, he just didn’t know he cared this much. The strange feeling of loss when she’d run off that day, the aching feeling of guilt at not having been able to save her, the great horror at the thought of her being in danger...

Severus couldn’t believe it. Where did it all come from? When had the ability – or disability, if he chose to look at it that way – to feel managed to sneak up on him and plant its roots, digging deeper into him and growing bigger by the day? Why had he not noticed this change in his routine; in his very lifestyle?

He sighed – there was no time to ponder on this now. All he knew was that he did care. More than one could’ve believed imaginable for someone like Severus Snape.

Alongside Bill he reached the entrance doors to the Snape house, and they rushed out together in unison. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the group of weary travellers gradually came into focus at the slope of the small Killengreen hill, and the second he spotted Hermione Severus was rushing again – Bill struggling slightly to keep up with the man suffering from concussion – and within seconds they had reached the refugees, who finally caught sight of them as they escaped from the confines of the Fidelius Charm.

“Severus,” said Arthur Weasley immediately, stretching out a tattered hand to Severus, who shook it.

“It is a wonder to see you are alive,” said Severus in earnest, but his gaze kept flickering back to Hermione, who stood close by – too close, in Severus’ opinion –Ron Weasley, who again stood close by Potter. All he wanted to do was run to her and hug her, but that would hardly be acceptable. No one knew what they felt for each other, and Severus suspected both he and Hermione agreed that it was best it stayed that way.

“I can hardly believe you are,” smiled Arthur. “Hermione certainly caught us by surprise.”

“Yes,” nodded Severus, daring a glance at her again, “I have no doubt of it. But we will not be telling any tales out here, you must be cold and tired.” Having said what politeness he could muster, Severus turned to the entire group of refugees, many of which he gradually recognized.

“Welcome,” he said to them, “to Killengreen.”

And the refugees’ eyes widened – some gasped – as the Snape family home revealed itself to them, presenting itself as their new, much safer and by far much more comfortable, home.

The refugees were brought into Killengreen and systematically presented to their new accommodations, this process being led by Ginny Weasley, with the assistance of Toyo and Junichi. They were assigned rooms and received a bit of basic information on how to move about in the house, and it went as long as three quarters of an hour before the now greatly enlarged group of Rebels gathered again.

In the meantime, Hermione had sought out Severus.

He’d been back in his study on the second floor – by orders of Miss Weasley, who insisted he should rest at least a bit before the Rebels met again – when she’d knocked on his door; he had almost been able to tell by the way she knocked that it was her.

“Enter,” he said quickly, standing from his chair with more certainty than he actually had as she came in, closing the door carefully behind her.

“Severus,” she said, as though stating his presence. Their eyes met, locked, and neither seemed capable of finding words for almost a whole minute.

“I almost thought you were dead,” she said then.

“I almost thought you were,” he retorted.

She smiled slightly. Then, after a short pause, she said: “What happened?”

He sighed and gave into weariness as he sat back down into his winged armchair. “Draco would not have shown you any mercy, Hermione – you had to leave. I was convinced I could handle him on my own.”

“And you must have,” she said hastily, rushing over to him, “otherwise you wouldn’t have been here now. Unless you’re – you’re not alright...?”

“I am fine,” he assured her. “Like I said, I thought you leaving would be the best thing, but apparently I was wrong – he set after you the second you took off, as you perhaps noticed.” He gave a small snort at his own statement of the obvious. “He hexed me unconscious, however, or I would of course have followed.”

“Are you... alright?”

He gave in to a small smile.

“Like I said, Hermione, I am quite alright. It is just a concussion.”

She immediately reached out her hand, pressing it to his forehead, and the feeling of human contact between them again was almost Severus’ undoing. He closed his eyes, not even caring whether or not this showed her what he felt, and simply enjoyed the feel of her small hand on his brow.

She must have noticed it, for instead of moving the hand she slid it from his brow to his cheek and down to his shoulder, apparently quite determined not to stop touching him.

Slightly hesitantly – though apparently quite determined – she sat down on the arm of the chair, her hand still touching his shoulder.

He opened his eyes.

“It must have been quite the happy reunion,” he commented.

“It was,” she said, and her smile was grand and genuine at the memory. “I hardly believed it myself... I’ve never seen Harry so relieved. It’s like this was what he needed. Like, because of this, he’ll be able to do what he was – well – born to do.”

“Harsh, coming from you,” stated Severus. “‘Born to do’?”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “he is the only one who can do it.”

“That he is,” agreed Severus. “And I have something for you.”

She blinked, waiting for him to continue.

Severus smiled slightly, then reached inside of his robe to fish out her wand, which he’d snatched at Mandy Brocklehurst’s brothel room. “I thought you might need this.”

She smiled happily, reaching out to take it. Her eyes were threatening to water slightly, for some strange reason – Severus couldn’t find that his handing her his wand was a particularly emotional scene. Still, perhaps it meant something else to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the flickering of flames from Severus’ hearth.

“I’m happy to be back here,” said Hermione quietly.

“In a way, I can understand that.”

“I hated the Malfoys.”

Severus turned his head to look at her. She seemed to feel it, as she too turned her head and thus caught his gaze.

“I know,” he said.

She leaned in and kissed him.

It was such a gentle kiss; one of comfort more than of love, but he so needed it. This was no time for passion, more one of relief and aching happiness, and the fact that Hermione had come here to share this with him was making something inside of Severus ache.

He suspected it wasn’t from the concussion.

--

About three quarters of an hour since the refugees’ arrival at Killengreen they were well settled in. Although the night was far from young, everyone seemed to be seeking company on that evening rather than sleep, and so the result of this was that all the Rebels – both new and old – gathered themselves in the grand lounge on the ground floor, each and everyone enjoying their new company; catching up with long lost friend and relations.

Hermione spent all of her time with Harry and Ron, the three of them retreating to a corner to get some privacy. There were so many things they wanted to say, admit, and talk about, that none of them hardly knew where to begin. Then all three broke into questions at once, which resulted in joyous laughs. Hermione almost felt like certain things were back to normal.

The lounge was filled with people, all of them seemingly enjoying the get-together. Hogwarts students were catching up with each other – Hermione had to take five minutes off from the lads to talk to Mandy – old friends were reminiscing and strangers were getting to know one another.

Even Severus seemed to be having an agreeable time, and Hermione caught herself more than once wanting to go over to him, knowing fully well that she couldn’t. There were still so many things unsettled between them, and this would hardly be the right time to show everyone what feelings had been aroused.

However, Hermione continuously kept her eye on Severus.

And then, something rather strange happened.

As the group of Rebels was very large now, it would seem Severus had not yet caught sight of all of the newcomers. He was standing talking to Mr. Weasley, and he looked to be enjoying it, when suddenly his eyes caught sight of something and he froze on the spot. Hastily murmuring a few words to Mr. Weasley – Hermione guessed it was an excuse to leave – Severus rushed off, leaving the lounge in a hurry without looking back once.

Hermione quickly scanned the room, questing for whatever sight might have sent Severus running off like that. Then she saw what he must have been looking at.

It was one of the newcomers – Jim Higsley.

Hermione didn’t hesitate; she muttered a quick excuse to Harry and Ron and took straight off from the lounge. She wasn’t about to let him off this easily. She rushed through the house, knowing exactly where he’d be going.

The minute she reached his quarters she knocked firmly on the door, but it took almost a whole minute before he replied.

“Yes?” His voice was dark and irritable, clearly indicating that he didn’t want any company. Hermione, however, had other plans.

“Can I come in?” she asked gently.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then, Severus opened the door, staring down at her with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation.

“Hermione,” he said, stepping aside to let her enter before closing the door again, “I would have thought you would want to spend some more time with your friends; with the people you brought here.” It was surprising how cold and shut he was now, compared to how he’d been like only hours before.

“Yes,” said Hermione,” and I would have thought you’d want to spend some more time with them as well – they’re allies, Severus, which means they help bring things in our favour, and you of all people must be interested in what helps our favour, am I right?”

“I am glad that you found them,” he said; he looked uneasy, “but I was feeling rather tired. I have been through quite a lot during the last twenty-four hours, you know,” he added pointedly.

“Yes, but still you didn’t seem to mind meeting with these people,” argued Hermione, “you were rather nice, in fact, and you certainly seemed to be enjoying your talk with Mr. Weasley!”

He looked away from her, his gaze flickering about the room.

“In fact,” said Hermione, “as far as I could tell you were having a great time – that is, until you caught sight of Jim Higsley!”

Severus flinched at the name, completely unwillingly it seemed, and he began pacing about, one of his hands reaching up to rub his temples. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“I don’t think so,” said Hermione. “Look at yourself; you can barely handle me mentioning him! You’ve never reacted like this to anything for the seven years I’ve known you, Severus – what is it with that man? Do you know him?”

“No,” he replied instantly, turning to face her. “I have never seen him before.”

She tilted her head down slightly, looking up at him. “I don’t believe you.” Moving closer, she reached out a hand to touch his arm lightly. He didn’t flinch, which surprised her somewhat considering the emotional state he was in, and he never took his eyes away from hers as she spoke again:

“Clearly you know him somehow, or you wouldn’t have fled the room when you saw him. More to the point, the sight of him didn’t exactly seem to cheer you up, so I’m guessing there’s some tension between the two of you, and you’re not happy with it. Please, Severus, won’t you just tell me? I think it might help.”

Severus sighed.

“I do not know him as such,” he replied, and now he sounded quite sincere, “hardly at all, in fact.”

“So what’s the problem? Do you know him from somewhere?”

“He’s...” He glanced down at her, for a mere second looking almost unguarded, before his stern Professor-like glare returned and he was lost on her. “Forget it, Hermione. It is of no importance; it was a long time ago.”

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. That’s it – I’ve had enough of his shutting me out.

“Oh, honestly!” she moaned angrily, grasping at his arm. “It figures you’re like this!”

“Like what?” he demanded.

“Like you are now! Clearly there’s more to this story than that, but because you’re such a stubborn, lonely old fool you’d rather sit and wallow in your problems in solitude, rather than talk about them. You just think no one can help you, and that you’re better off dealing with everything that goes on all on your own – but it doesn’t always work like that, Severus!”

“I never said I –”

“I like you, Severus,” she interrupted wearily, “you know I do. Very much. And when we became... involved, I had hoped you would open up to me. That you would tell me if something was bothering you, because I, stupid as I was, thought that perhaps I would actually be able to help you if you needed it. I though that what I’d say or do would matter to you, because you would perhaps eventually care. But maybe you’re too far gone for that already.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then, Severus reached his hand up to cover Hermione’s on his arm.

“I do... care,” he said, almost forcibly, “and I will not have you accusing me of this. There are things in my life, Hermione, that you would be better off not knowing about. Have you considered that? Yes, I did react when I caught sight of Higsley, and for a reason. But I want to deal with it on my own.”

“Yes, of course you do,” muttered Hermione. “You’re too stubborn to accept help, and you’re too afraid that opening up means the same as handing the world weapons to use against you. Well, it’s not like that... not with me. I bet a lot of that stuff in your life has to do with not being able to trust people, but you’ve just got to stop thinking like that now, when you’re amongst friends.” She reached her other hand up to touch his cheek.

“I will not tell you,” he said calmly, “because it holds no importance to you.”

“Who is he?” demanded Hermione then. She was not prepared to give up that easily.

“Do you have a problem hearing?” snapped Severus, pulling away from her.

“No, I have a problem accepting your stubbornness!” she retorted. “Just tell me, will you?”

“I will not.”

“Tell me.”

“Hermione –”

She practically stamped her foot. “Tell m–”

“He was her brother!” bellowed Severus then, interrupting Hermione before she could finish.

The second he realized he’d opened his mouth he shut it, backing several feet away. He was blinking more than usual, and he looked like his mind was racing...

Hermione’s was too, in fact – her brother? Whose brother?

“Jim Higsley is the brother of...?” she began, but she didn’t dare finish the sentence.

“Go,” muttered Severus, rubbing his face. “See what being in my company does to you; just leave, Hermione.”

“I won’t.”

“Leave, damn you.”

She raised her chin. “Stop taking your past out on me.”

He glanced up then, catching her eye. It was impossible to tell which secrets lay beneath that penetrating, black gaze of his, but for all Hermione knew it could be so much hurt and unhappiness, begging to get out... As long as Severus continued to carry whatever burden he was carrying on his own, he would never get rid of it. Nor would he forgive himself for it.

“Let me stay,” said Hermione defiantly. “Please. I won’t ask you about him again.”

Sighing, almost in defeat, Severus nodded.


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A/N: Well? Forever thanks to my darling beta, JessiokaFroka, for her work and feedback! Because of course, feedback (aka reviews) is always welcome! Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! Means the world to me!