Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.

To Jessie, who had been there for me.

Enormous thanks to all of you who followed BL, without letting themselves be distracted by the pettiness and the narrow-mindedness that followed the posting of this story.

For open-mindedness, I suppose. And because it is proven that people can live together although having different truths.

Epilogue


\"Dad, where are we going?\"

It was two months later, at the beginning of August, when Severus insisted they should be taking a day off their miscellaneous duties in order to visit a place, which he wanted them to visit for a quite sometime. Hermione – curious, but knowing she wouldn\'t get any information out of her partner by interrogating him – had prepared herself and Aubrey for the trip. Filled with enthusiasm by the prospect of family trip, she aired their walking shoes, packed sandwiches and summer fruits in plastic containers, and even some Muggle money in case they got stuck.

Seeing all this fuss, Snape simply rolled his eyes- a gesture Hermione found, to his endless frustration, incredibly endearing. \"We are not moving, woman,\" he told her. \"At least not before Minerva officially acknowledges my resignation and appoints you as the new Potions Professor.\"

Hermione beamed at him. \"She has just done that! I received the letter this very morning!\"

\"Really? That is something I\'d like to see.\" Moving around the breakfast table, Snape seized the letter his lover was waving teasingly in front of his eyes.

Sunrays were streaming down the open window, washing Hermione\'s kitchen with yellow, cheerful light. Summer filled the small suite of rooms Dumbledore had allocated her only seven months ago with light and warmth, and Hermione herself was persistent in bringing the summer in; placing china vases, full of flowers, in every corner; opening the window for the warm, sweet breeze to blow inside. Following a whim, she had made a trip to London and refreshed her wardrobe, purchasing several new day-gowns of soft, clinging materials that emphasized her ripe figure. She was wearing one of those now, made of yellow combed cotton, with thin shoulder straps and wide, wavy skirt, that seemed to lick her tanned, curved shins.

\"Well, are you going to open Minerva\'s letter or keep staring at me?\" she teased him.

Severus snorted, unceremoniously opening the narrow envelope, unfolding the thin sheet it contained, and briefly scanning it.

Hermione was now looking at him in a way to indicate she was expng ang a response.

\"What?\" he snapped.

\"Don\'t you have anything to say? No, Yo jolly ho, my disastrous teaching career has finally come to an end? No – look fellows, I\'m no longer forced to be teaching incapable dunderheads, come, I\'ll buy you a drink?\"

\"You seem to be doing just fine for me.\"

Hermione stuck out her tongue.

\"That is highly immature-\"

\"-Good Mornin\' Mum, Good Mornin\' Dad…\" Aubrey, disheveled and rosy from sleep, strolled into the kitchen. \"Furball says hey.\"

\"Your ugly hairball can definitely be bothered to come into the kitchen if he wishes to be fed,\" Snape muttered over his black coffee.

\"Yeah, Furball loves you too,\" Aubrey murmured, sinking into her regular seat right beside Snape and reaching for his coffee. For some reason Hermione could never figure out, the child developed keen fondness for her father\'s bitter brew.

\"Severus!\" she cried. \"Don\'t you dare go letting her drink that poison!\"

\"This isn\'t poison,\" Snape glared at her. \"This is a fine, exquisite mixture of-\"

\"I know,\" Hermione cut him. \"I heard the tourist-guide explanation before, and she\'s still not going to drink it. Aubrey darling, it will be cocoa, juice, weak tea or water for you.\"

Great. Now Aubrey was glaring at her as well.

All right, Hermione thought, at least the little Snape kicking in my womb is on my side, seeing that I\'m not poisoning him on regular basis.

Still screwing her face, Aubrey settled for some cooled orange juice, which was left in the larder. Pouring herself some juice, she joined her parents at the small table, sipping loudly from the cylindrical, high Muggle glass.

It seemed to be a just another normal Saturday morning in the Granger-Snape household. Quiet – as both Severus and Aubrey were both late sleeppers and likely to scowl at Hermione for making too much noise – light and airy, with the breeze blowing into the intimate corners of the small flat, waking it to life. Soon enough, Hermione mused – now that Severus\'s resignation was finally accepted – they planned to move to Hogsmeade, into Dumbledore\'s cozy little cottage, which Snape had inherited.

The first time they visited the little cottage, they went there with the intention of selling it- an idea which was automatically rejected by Hermione once she found Severus brooding over a small treasure of Lemon Drops, unable to break free of the swirling loop of images in which he was trapped. Later that night, lying in his arms after they made love, they had discussed their future plans. Now that the war was over, Severus seemed to be determined on doing three only things: spending the rest of his life with her; assuring the name Snape would die with him, and gaining his Literature degree. She didn\'t want to take any of itm him him. If Severus wanted the child in her womb to carry the name Granger, Hermione had no problem with that whatsoever. She didn\'t want this child, however, to be their last. Hermione had every intention to conceive as many children as possible in the time she had left. Severus had some difficulties dealing with that idea. Nevertheless, he didn\'t protest.

He had also seemed to be considering something ever since – an inner turmoil that had lasted until he reacher her her last night, telling Hermione that they\'d be visiting a place on the morrow. That announcement had lit Hermione\'s overdeveloped curiosity, but since she was no longer a young girl, she avoided enquiring of Severus, focusing her energies on preparation.

\"How are we going to reach our destination?\" she asked him, shrinking what seemed to be half of the house into her side-bag.

\"I hope you are aware that I won\'t be helping you to enlarge any of these items,\" Snape stated coolly, ignorher her question.

Hermione coughed. \"Our traveling arrangements, dear?\"

\"Floo to Hogsmeade,\" he answered. \"Then we\'ll take the Hogwarts Express.\"

Hermione frowned. \"The Hogwarts Express has only three official stops. Hogsmeade, Kings Cross, and The Village of Cernunnos, and that\'s way down in Cornwall. Are we going to London, then?\"

Snape said nothing, and so Hermione removed her light traveling cloak from the clothes hanger, watchingeruserus help Aubrey into the child\'s smaller garment. One by one, they used the living room\'s now open hearth, to Floo to the Hogsmeade station, where the Hogwarts Express was just storming into the platform.

The ride was quiet and uneventful, with the elder witch Hermione remembered from her own schooldays stopping at the entrance of their car, offering her goods for sale, and the long, narrow corridors surprisingly quiet, without a mass of expectant Hogwarts students filling them with exuberant noise. She had the strangest sensation she was traveling back in time, or perhaps traveling through a path of unexplored memories, all being so similar, yet significantly different from something she had very clearly stamped on her mind. This time, however, unlike other times before, the difference was welcome. It curled along the mellow contours of a pastel-coloured picture, where she sat on an old-fashioned swing, with her tall, dark-haired wizard standing behind her, and their daughter seated at her feet, pink roses in her short, wheat-gold hair.

They didn\'t leave the train at London, the way Hermione had expected, nor at any of the minor stations. When, at last, the Hogwarts Express raced, sounding, into the village of Cernunnos\' train station, Hermione was both amazed, and unsurprised in the least. Waking the sleepy Aubrey, they climbed down the train and into the platform, walking into the Wizarding village that was smaller and more ancient even than Hogsmeade.

The village of Cernunnos was a small, misty place. It had smallish houses hiding like little animals in the ground, dwarfed by huge, ancient oak trees, whose foliage darkened the face of the sky. People, all of them magical, were roaming the main street- old, short witch, traveling with her familiar, a Great Dane; two young boys, about Aubrey\'s age, who were chasing each other across the street, cursing and shouting; a small group of giggling teenager girls.

Aubrey, spellbound, was drinking in the sight. Hermione, a little bit more experienced and practical, turned to look at Severus.

The face of the man she loved was hardly fitted to demonstrate emotions. Severus Snape was born with a set of harsh features, and the ability to show emotions, using this set of severe facial characteristics had been cruelly taken away from him. He hardly ever smiled; Hermione hoped that someday, he\'d learn to do it again, but didn\'t expect – could not afford herself to expect – much more. There was no need to. His eyes, those black, bottomless black pools Hermione once thought could express no warmth at all, seemed to hold in them all the warmth of the world if one only knew how to read them.

\"You\'re doing it again,\" Aubrey\'s voice cut across the building tension.

Hermione blinked. \"What, darling?\"

\"Staring at each other,\" explained the child, scowling. \"Like the couples who snog in the library do. That\'s really icky. Please stop.\"

Severus glared at his daughter. \"Well, next time you see a couple snog in the library, simply deduct five house points from each student\'s house. Unless they are Slytherins of course; in this case you should tell them they\'d better find some discreet place to take their activities to. Tell them your mother gave you permission to do so-\"

\"I definitely did not-\"

At this stage, Aubrey chose to interrupt. \"Dad, where are we going?\"

\"The place we\'ll be visiting is located about a mile from here,\" Severus answered. \"We\'ll walk. Come.\"

They had a prolonged, lazy stroll in the bright August sun, Severus fully answering Aubrey\'s persistent flow of questions concerning the fauna and flora of the place. Smugly, Hermione watched her partner in life providing a her and their daughter a detailed history of the low mound just over the road in his best lecturing tone, then telling Aubrey about the white, little flower she stuffed into his hand. He seemed to know this place- not the knowledge driven out of dusted books and gained inside a darkened library; but the kind of knowledge one picked up outside, in the meadow; under the bright, blazing sun.

At last, the wide dirt track bent into a large, open meadow, where the sun streamed down generously, coaxing tiny, colorful flowers out of the grass-covered earth. Hermione stopped, closing her eyes, and let the sweet breeze – finally allowed to blow freely – dishevel her hair. She stood there for a moment, and then opened her eyes, breathing deeply.

There, on the edge of the valley, bordering a thin grove of various trees, stood a modest Elizabethan Manor house. Blinking, Hermione turned to look at Snape. Who didn\'t say a word, but simply signed for them to follow him.

Standing on the doorstep, with Severus and Aubrey by her side, Hermione felt somewhat like a trespasser, with Snape\'s accented silence and his refusal to give away any information as to their destination.

It was clear between them that he was not a completely whole person. Sometimes, annoying as Hermione might have found it, Severus still called her by her last name, attempting to distance her: he wouldn\'t always be nice or agreeable and he could be downright nasty when in the mood. Hermione never approved of his behavior- he knew she never would, and that\'s how they lived – with the knowledge that both of them might be lacking something essential. Loving him, she was ready to accept that, but nonetheless, it was unnerving. Some times, more than others.

\"Can I…?\" Aubrey reached her hand to the finely engraved onyx-knocker, designed as a raven-head.

Severus nodded.

The girl knocked three times, pleased with the rhyming echo she produced.

\"One moment please.\" A soft, feminine voice drifted from inside, asking them to wait. Several seconds later, the lockinarm arm warding the ancient door was removed, and the beautifully carved door had begun to gently pivot. Much to the two females among visitors\' surprise, a white, blue-eyed cat, sneaked out of the thin crack formed between the wood plane and the lintel, followed by another cat, bigger, sleeker and grey. ermiermione was so fascinated by the two magnificent felines, that her attention was distracted when the door was finally completely opened. Severus had to take her hand in order to remind her of their whereabouts. Blushing, she raised her eyes, encountering the pale, light-blue gaze of a woman in her mid sixties.

It was a tall, willowy lady, her once wheat-colored hair, almost completely white now, collected in a lose braid that descended almost to her knees. She had long, narrow face, with high cheekbones; long, straight nose, and thin, soft lips. Her features seemed to be an odd grafting of Severus\'s and Aubrey\'s faces – almost pretty, but not quite – endowed with the same graceful, feline quality to her movements, which made Snape a spectacle in the classroom.

Baffled, Hermione gaze wandered to Severus, whose blank, empty expression was slowly cracking. His lips were moving, but the words, uttered in this low, skin-shivering voice, were coming only brief seconds later, unsynchronized with the movement of his lips.

\"Hello, Clair,\" Severus Snape greeted his elder sister. \"This is my partner in life, Hermione Granger, and our daughter, Aubrey Granger. I fought on Harry Potter\'s side in the final battle against the Dark Lord, after spying for Albus Dumbledore for twenty eight-years.\" Breathing, he looked into her eyes. \"Am I welcome into your home?\"

Clair Snape Hainsworth\'s lower lip was slightly trembling. A third, tabby cat, sensing its mistress\' distress, appeared on the doorway, rubbing against the elder lady\'s calf. She blinked, surveying the woman and child on her brother\'s side. At last, her eyes roamed back to Severus\'s face. \"My home is thy home, Severus. Hermione, Aubrey- this is thy home, and the Snape land is thy land, for as long as ye shall live and thy descendents after thee. Please step in and be welcome.\"

Confused – Aubrey\'s little hand held in her palm – Hermione stepped into the Snape Manor house, where the man who was now standing beside her, spent most of his childhood and youth.

It was a large, spacious place, with low rooms consisting of curved ceilings and many windows, all of which were open; to allow the summer sun to stream in and light what would have been a warm, cozy dimness. The furniture, Hermione noted, was sparse, but every piece of furnishing was well kept, tastefully placed, beautiful and antique. All in all, the house inspired a sense of expensive comfort, with the only exception being the cats\' hairs covering every piece of upholstered furniture. The cats\' faint, yet distinct scent was drifting in the air, as well as the animals themselves, drowsing, playing, staring and causing mayhem, in each and every corner of the house.

Aubrey, squeaking with joy, had at once asked for her aunt\'s permission to play with the creatures, and was now engaged rubbing the soft, silvery fur of two beautiful Russian Blues.

Clair, excusing herself, went to the kitchen to bring some refreshments, asking Severus and Hermione to make themselves comfortable while she was gone.

\"Shall we sit?\"

Nodding, Hermione sat on a low sofa beside Severus, leaning against his warm, wiry body. Watching her daughter play with the two felines, her gaze traveled up the partially-lit wall of the living room. It landed, at last, on a large, bewitching portrait of a young woman in her mid-twenties.

The woman-child in the painting, who looked at Hermione with big blue eyes the colour of the sky in June, seemed to be somehow familiar. Then the memory struck her. Aniko Goldstein Snape. The picture Severus had shown her long ago, in their first conversation, was an old, black and white Muggle photograph. This, however, was a magical portrait, yet the woman in the painting remained unmoving.

Perplexed, feeling as if she was invading someone\'s privacy, Hermione scanned the portrait. She remembered with some reverence the sad girl in the picture. Nothing, however, could prepare her for the naked pain and beauty reflected in those childish, angelic features.

Clair Hainsworth, who just entered into the room, noticed Hermione\'s stare. \"My mother,\" she said quietly. \"Our father used to say she was his private demon and his private angel, created to haunt him. That she would follow him into the after world, where he would see her face forever, burning in the eternal flames of his jealousy.\"

Severus lips pursed. \"She would have followed him nowhere.\"

Clair eyes where full of quiet understanding as she leaned to place a tray loaded with the season\'s fruits on the coffee table. \"As you might remember,\" she said, \"I quite agree.\"

\"Where is Justin\'s portrait?\" Snape asked.

\"I gave it to Aurelia,\" Clair told him. \"She says father is happy there, preaching to his great-grandchildren when they come to visit their grandma, being the same insufferable bastard he always was. He was very proud of you, you know, hearing you managed to choose the winning side.\" Clair\'s voice was tainted with sarcasm in a way that accented the resemblance between her and her brother.

Severus snorted, reaching his hand for take a ripe peach.

Clair looked at him melancholically. \"It appears he has forgiven you, although you haven\'t forgiven him.\"

\"Have you forgiven him, Clair?\" Severus\'s tone, Hermione noted, was casual, masked by the wet, mundane sounds of tearing up the juicy fruit he had been chewing on.

Clair Snape Hainsworth had shifted her eyes, unwilling to look at her brother. \"Some things can not be forgiven,\" she said quietly. \"All in all, Severus, I believe I simply had to learn to live with my memories. I came to this understanding once I realized that no matter how much I might crave for completion, parts of me would still be fractured.\"

\"You are a clever woman.\"

\"I have been taught much,\" Clair said. \"My husband died on the first war, but you should be able to meet my children and grandchildren some day soon.\"

\"I will be delighted.\"

Clair then smiled, turning to face Hermione. \"I\'m sorry to ignore you, sister. It had been a while for Severus and me.\"

\"Say nothing of it,\" Hermione told her in a reassuring manner. If she had indeed felt so calm and happy for Severus, or rather envious, Hermione wasn\'t sure. She had still several open Pandora\'s boxes to close – including Harry, who, claiming his place in her heart once again, demanded to have explained of the circumstances leading to her and Severus\'s becoming a couple; including her parents, whom, Hermione realized, she needed to talk with at least one more time, if only to finally stitch together the open wound. She had no doubt things were going to be difficult and awkward.

And there was Severus, stepping into his sister\'s home and heart, as if nothing had ever happened. Yes, she was jealous; jealous and happy for him at the same time. Knowing admitting her contradictory feeling was the best she would have; Hermione leaned into the backrest, and followed the exchange.

* * *

They were talking for a while when Clair Snape turned to look at her younger and only surviving brother. \"Now what, Severus? Do you want me to accompany you to mother\'s and father\'s graves?\"

Snape quirked an eyebrow. \"I\'m quite sure I can find the way. Over the hill, under the English Oak?\"

\"Yes,\" Clair nodded. \"I\'ve planted roses on their graves- they are enchanted to bloom all year long. Mother\'s are pure white and Father\'s are blood red.\"

Snape blinked, taking Hermione\'s hand in his. \"How appropriate. Would you please takee ofe of Aubrey while we go visit the graves?\"

\"Happily.\" His sister, suddenly sorrowful, leaned to brush her lips over Snape\'s cheek. \"Go and make peace with them,\" she pleaded with him quietly.

\"Perhaps.\"

* * *

They had climbed up and then silently down the low hill, walking hand in hand towards the ancient English Oak that seemed to tower over the two greying tombstones of Justin and Aniko Snape. The rose plants, just the way Clair had told rus,rus, were indeed there, pure-white and blood-red, contrasting and completing each other while never creating an absolute, synergic whole.

\"What do you think of?\" Hermione asked, watching Severus sinking to the grass, hugging his knees to his body.

Snape frowned. \"Justin-\" he began, \"then myself. My mother…\" Severus shook his head. \"She was so beautiful. The kind of beauty to make you delude yourself that if you could have a taste of it- could you possibly own it, you would be whole. How can I possibly blame him for taking her? Yet he would, ever, never, be whole. The fucking bastard. He blamed her for it, said she was his demon- he tortured this broken-winged angel for not being able to save him. And me-\" He raised his face to look at her, \"I am no different. Sometimes I believe you are the missing flagstone in this broken mosaic labyrinth that is my life. Than I suddenly realise that I\'m still empty and hollow- that even you can\'t make me a whole man, and this, all of this, seem so ridiculous and meaningless.\"

Brokenhearted for him, Hermione sat beside the man she loved, leaning her head against his shoulder. Severus stiffened, the way he sometimes still used to do, but didn\'t push her away. Quietly, he accepted the touch, as a tribute, as a source of comfort, and forced himself to relax. Hermione sighed, moistening her lips. \"Do you know the joke telling about the couple who went to a masquerade as a Swiss cheese?\"

Severus scowled. \"This is an old one. Why are you asking?\"

She smiled softly. \"The story tells how one of them wore a perforated shirt, while the other simply stank. It\'s the same with us. Even together, we aren\'t whole- not you, nor me. It\'s only fools who believe another person can make them complete. That\'s not to say what we have is meaningless- you make me happy. Being happy makes life worth living. The two of us being perforated, each in different places- we can sometimes lie in bed at night and fill each other\'s cavities. There are all sorts of ways peo people can help each other without being everything to each other. I actually believe it\'s much healthier this way. You understand that –or I\'ll make you understand. Either way, you are not your father.\"

For a moment, he seemed amused. \"Thank you, Professor Granger.\"

She kissed his cheek. \"You\'re welcome, Mr. Snape.\"

* Cernunnos – god of fertility and animals; referred to as the \"horned one\".