The long and winding road to love

Chapter 33:








Hey! Thanks for your great reviews! For
those who think my story is confusing, I think that it would be easier if you
understand the story as a unit and not chapter per chapter. Because sometimes
it can get confusing, I know, so, my apologies to them. A special thanks to
Sylvia Potter who beta reads this for me.

Anyhow, I hope you like it… here it is;
chapter 33… enjoy!

 

Chapter 33: The answer.

 

Life is all about pain and human beings are used to
sacrifice themselves for causes they consider fair. History is filled with examples
from Jesus Christ himself to Joan of Arch. Perhaps because certain individuals
consider redemption a way of earning their place in heaven or may be just
because they cannot resist contemplating pain in others; all the same this very
old man known as Dumbledore to everyone in the Wizarding world sat in his chair
with a golden quill between his fingers thinking about how to plaster his
feelings into words. And that is a very difficult task indeed, considering that
as is by words that we communicate, words are what limit us.

 

But when the grandfather clock announced that it was
too late to waste time in meaningless thoughts, he soaked the quill in black
ink and started writing.

 

My dear Severus,

 

I am more than glad to hear that
Hermione and you have returned safety to our castle. We were utterly worried
about your wellbeing and thus is more than a pleasure to have you back with us.


 

I have received your letter and Lucius
plans to murder me are quite disturbing. I have come up with a solution to this
problem, however, and I must admit that is one of my most brilliant ideas.

 

I understand from your message that is
your job to poison me. As you well know by now, nevertheless, I cannot be
easily killed. No poison can prevent me from breathing as I have an extended
knowledge on venoms. Lucius ignores this, nonetheless, and that is good news
for the Order.

 

The details of my plan I cannot explain
in this simple letter, I am afraid. The purpose of this correspondence, my old
boy, is to give you comfort for I know that your soul aches. The hideous job of
killing me has been ordered to you and you cannot do anything about it. But I
can. I beg for your presence first thing tomorrow morning as my death needs to
be carefully arranged.

 

I look forward to seeing you soon,

 

Albus.

 

And with that, Dumbledore stood from his comfortable
chair and walking all the way towards the fireplace he threw some powder into
the flames which turned green in a second and shouting: “the dungeons” as he
had once done when he found Hermione in Severus bed, the letter was gone. And
so was the Order’s last hope.

 

When the letter reached the fireplace in Severus
Snape’s living room no one noticed. The two people there who might care about
the contents of the message were laying peacefully on
Severus’ bed. Love was all around, make no mistake. It was noticeable in
Hermione’s eyes, for one, which were radiant with a feeling she could only
compare with the joy of reading about XVth. century
witches.

 

Her husbands’ sadness had made her reflect upon her
own emotions, worries and fears. She was in love. Perhaps it is difficult for
most people to understand the meaning of that word because we live in a cynical
world were broken hearts are not a rare thing to find between the mass of
people who try to achieve happiness through love, the most exquisite feeling of
all. Because love is not only better than wealth, beauty, power or even wisdom,
but it is the only quality that can bring joy to human beings. And Hermione
Granger was no stranger to the feeling but even though she could completely
comprehend what love was and how it felt in her heart, was she capable of
losing her life for it? Was the feeling so strong that the sudden death of her
precious partner could lead to a premature slaughter of the soul?

 

The more she kept wondering about it, the more the
answer became clear. Yes.

 

Her eyes travelled from the stone ceiling of his
chambers to his face. He was peacefully sleeping in his bed, completely sure
that she was not going to suffocate him until his heart stopped beating with
the rhythm of passion lust and love. He trusted her. She knew that and thus a
smile curved its way through her face.

 

She was still staring intently at the man lying next to
her, contemplating his every movement and finding pleasure out of his every
reaction. She was particularly fond of the way in which he frowned when she
jokily caressed the tip of his nose.

 

Oh, gods! How handsome he was or rather how handsome
he was to her! For she doubted many people would regard his nose as beautiful
or his thin expressionless lips attractive in the least. The fact that she knew
the real man behind those features, behind the black veil that covered his real
self, played a vital role in her opinions. No matter how much she tried to
control herself, every time she focused her eyes on him something inside of her
shivered indicating how vulnerable she when it came to Severus Snape.

 

She knew in her soul that she would rather die a
thousand deaths than living a lifetime without his love. It was not because of
his caress; it was what his soft touch represented. It was not because of his
kisses; it was what the connection between the lips meant. It was not because
of the love making; it was what that union represented.

 

If their plan failed- and she knew better than anyone
that it could- the rage of the Death Eaters will be strong enough to shake the
foundations of Hogwarts Castle itself.

 

“If he is going,” she thought to herself before closing
her eyes and pressing her cheek on his chest, “I am going with him,”

 

The very next morning when Hermione Granger opened her
eyes to the light- though little in the dark dungeons- she found her husband
sitting on a wooden chair near the four poster bed, fixedly staring at her as
if impatient for her to awake. He had a letter in his hands and he seemed quite
keen on protecting it.

 

“What is the matter?,” she
wondered, worried about the expression on Severus’ face which depicted angst
and consternation.

 

“I need to see Dumbledore before breakfast,” he
confessed, explaining in a rather indirect way the contents of the message,
“are you going to assist Professor Flitwick’s class today?,” he inquired
knowing the answer already.

 

“Of course,” she said, surprising no one.

 

“I will see you at breakfast then,” he said, standing
from his previous seat and kissing her forehead. He was going to need her
support after his conversation with Dumbledore. And even if for a second he
could just look into her eyes across a room filled with students who meant
nothing to him, the cross he carried in his back would seem a little lighter.

 

With that thought he turned around and without looking
back he opened the door and left his room towards the Floo Network on his
living room where he would reach Dumbledore’s chambers in no time.