The long and winding road to love

Chapter 35: The day the magical world became real








Hey! Sorry for the delay but I needed
to finish chapter 36 before actually posting this one. This is getting GOOD..!
I really like the plot… but I want to thank you all for your reviews which were
great. And please… feel free to give me a piece of your mind because I really
need to know your thoughts about this story right now. If you enjoy the it, please read and review! It will make my day. I’ll
answer your review 6 days after I upload (that would be January 26th)
on my livejournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/florws/.
You can check it out if you want.

 

So… here it is; chapter 35… enjoy! (The
end is near)

 

Chapter 35: The day the magical world
became real

 

As you get older you figure out certain things about
life. One of them is that human beings are cursed with knowledge because when
you comprehend something, you cannot ignore it. Human beings understand,
therefore, from the moment they are born that sooner or later they are going to
die. And their hearts fill with bitterness and sadness when they reflect about
it, as it is expected.

 

They ask silly questions to themselves that they know
they will fail to answer with precision such as: “What reason do I have to
live? Is there something worth living for? And many people, believe me when I
tell you, understand from the moment they learn to breathe that happiness is
essential for the wellbeing of the soul. How do we reach it, though? For some
people such as Lucius Malfoy and his Death Eaters, sins are the straight way to
contentment.

 

And so, they were all sitting around Lucius’ fireplace
where he was standing like a godlike figure in the altar of power, having a
conversation that would change the curse of history.

 

“As I said in my previous owls,” he almost shouted for
everyone to hear for there were quite a lot of people, “Severus has earned my
trust and I see no evidence of his disloyalty,” he told his Death Eaters who
had gathered at Malfoy Manor to listen to what Lucius had to say and follow
further orders.

 

“Do you really think that Lord Vold…
the Dark Lord would be pleased with Snape marrying a mudblood?,”
Macnair wondered, standing up for everyone to see where the question had come
from and who had dared contradict Lucius.

 

“Mcnair, you ignorant butcher, is evident that you
have not met Hermione Granger,” Lucius stated, staring at Mcnair with pure evil
in his eyes. It was quite clear that Mcnair’s services were needed because,
sure enough if he hadn’t been useful, Lucius would have killed him in the spot,
“I am sure that Lord Voldemort would have been glad about Severus’ choice, as odd
as it is. The Dark Lord recognized who his true servants were from their
attitudes and mental power and he never doubted Severus loyalty. Who are we to
evaluate the Dark Lord’s judgement?,” he asked to the
bunch of people, who agreed with Lucius instantly. Party because they were
scared and partly because they respected Lord Voldemort too much to even sigh
at the bare mention of his name.

 

“Yes, you are right, Lucius,” Macnair said, sitting
down again, regretting his intromission.

 

“However, it would be prudent to have a second plan,
in case my friend disappoints me,” he suggested with a smirk; he was actually
enjoying it, “In case he fails to kill Dumbledore, Hermione Granger will
die,” he finished, contemplating the
realization of his own dreams. Lucius wanted to face Mrs. Snape soon because he
had such contradictory feelings towards her that he could not understand why he
wanted to hurt her so much. It was not because she was a mudblood, or atst
st
not entirely because of that. He wanted to hurt her for choosing Severus, for
ignoring him.

 

He wished more than anything in the world to kill
Dumbledore and control the Wizard World, make no mistake. But a tiny part of
him also hoped their plan failed for it would be a decent excuse to kill the
both of them.

 

He had a plan that could ruin the lives of the people
we know and love and who belong to the side of light; to the side of goodness.
Fortunately for most of us, Albus Dumbledore also had developed a scheme; a
brilliant scheme, I dare say. The only thing left to do- apart from waiting-
was to find the appropriate venom and that, my friends, was Severus’ job.

 

And believe me when I tell you that Severus Snape is
always efficient in whatever he does.

 

“What are you doing?,”
Hermione asked when she entered Severus’ private laboratories. She remembered
being there in the past when she had helped Professor Snape with a project
Dumbledore had asked him to develop to help Neville’s parents. But now the
situation was different and Hermione had no idea of what Severus was doing in
the middle of the night, “Why are you working at this time of night? Can’t it
wait until tomorrow?,” she asked, completely unaware
of the situation in which Hogwarts found itself into.

 

“I am afraid, it cannot,” he replied, too busy mixing
powders and liquid ingredients to pay too much attention to Hermione who was
quite upset. She had had an emotional day and all she wanted was to fall asleep
in the arms of the man she loved; to feel protected and safe in a world that
was falling to pieces. But he seemed to pay no attention to her words. He was
concealing something from her and she did not like it. She did not like it at
all.

 

“Severus, what is going on?,”
she wondered, assuming that he was hiding something from her. And she wasn’t
wrong, as usual.

 

“Nothing is going on, dear. Go back to bed, I will be
there with you in a second,” he promised while pouring some venoms together,
not really paying attention to her every word, as usual. But can you blame him?
The death of man he loved as a father had been ordered to him, not only from
the Dark Side but from the White Side and he could only pray for Dumbledore’s
plan to work. Because if for some reason Lucius won the final battle he could kiss
this world goodbye.

 

Some minutes later, he heard the door being slammed
with great strength. She was mad, but he knew in his heart he had no choice but
to hide the plan from her. The more she knew, the more the possibilities of her
being killed. Aevereverus would rather eat a stone taken from the sto…, “EUREKA!,” he shouted, as if he had founded the
elixir of life. He had come up to, in fact, with a way to save the world.

 

So when he found the right ingredients and mixed them
correctly with the right proportions of water and oils, he ran immediately from
his laboratories to his personal chambers where Hermione was peacefully
sleeping on a black leather sofa, and throwing some Floo powder into the flames
which turned green, he left the dungeons to become a murderer. Or so was the
plan.

 

The journey from his chambers to Dumbledore’s was the
longest he had ever had in his whole life. He was anxious and he had reasons to
be uneasy and apprehensive. He was going to kill Albus
Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and that was not an easy job indeed
considering that not even the Dark Lord had managed to vanquish him. While the
ashes of grey and green covered his nostrils, he closed his eyes and started
thinking of his beloved wife. He hated not paying attention to her. A difficult
task had been assigned to him but that was no excuse to left her sleeping alone
on that cold leather couch without even kissing her forehead. He regretted not
kissing her forehead.

 

A strong desire to go back
filled his chest. As if that would be last time he was ever going to see her.
“Don’t be a sensitive fool!,” he kept telling himself
while removing the ashes from inside his nose with a subtle movement from his
wand. He knew he needed to go back; he had been correct that very moment when
he found Hermione crying in the middle of the Great Hall, surrounded by no one,
tears running down her check.

 

Strangely enough, when he
had made the decision of going back, he opened his mouth to change directions
but found himself in the cold stone floor of Dumbledore’s chambers. It was too
late now.

 

“She is probably upset
because I paid her no attention,” he said out loud when he found himself inches
away from Dumbledore’s door, “Sir, Sir,” Severus said, knocking frantically on
the wooden door once near, trying to wake Dumbledore up, though unsuccessfully,
“Sir, wake up. I have found it,” he stated, knng tng the door even harder.

 

“Why do you feel the need
to wake me up at this time of night? Why aren’t you in bed with your wife?,” Dumbledore asked from behind Severus, completely
shocking him.

 

“Sir, I have found it,” he
said calmly now, “I have found the solution,”

 

“I knew you would,”
Dumbledore said, “But why aren’t you with your wife? Wives should be never left
alone,” he stated winking. Severus understood and smirked, as if offended by
Dumbledore’s insinuations.

 

“Sir, I am afraid that this
is much more important than…” he started to say, but then reflecting about his
own words he changed his mind and said, “you are right, sir. I have no excuses,
but I thought you would like to know tonight,”

 

“Where is it?,” Dumbledore asked, looking through his half moon
spectacles. Severus proceeded, then, to insert his right hand into his black
robes. When he drew his hand out of his robes, he was holding a yellow bottle
and a stone.

 

“Do you wish to keep them?,” Severus wondered, stretching his hand for Dumbledore to
reach the objects.

 

“Yes, I wish to keep them
inside,” Dumbledore stated, grabbing the items with his right hand.

 

“As you wish sir,” Severus
said, too focused on the floor to pay Dumbledore attention. He had, apparently,
lost something in the middle of the stones for he was keen on not taking his
eyes off of the ground.

 

“We will see each other
again, my old boy,” Dumbledore promised, caressing Severus’ head as if he were
a child. In Dumbledore’s eyes he was, indeed, the same frightened adolescent
seeking comfort that had once come to his office because he wanted nothing to
do with life. Now, in front of him, stood a grown man who wished more than
anything else to breathe the sweet air of another winter. He was a family man
now. He had a wife. He had a home to go to when his job was done. But then
again, the fright in his eyes only depicted that the innocent child he had once
known was still there, buried in the depths of his soul.

 

“I know, sir,” Severus
said, still not looking at him in the eye. But when he no longer felt the
weight of Dumbledore’s hand on his head, he looked up only to see the end.

 

He had eaten the stone and
drank the bitter combinations of potions until there was not even a drop left
in the little tube.

 

“Sir,” Severus shouted, but
it was too late; Dumbledore collapse into his arms, breathing for the last time
the icy air that only January brings to England.

 

The Wizarding World was
vulnerable now. And it was currently up to Severus, to continue with the plan.
He was the World’s only hope.