Ashes of Armageddon

Chapter 37: Guest Room



Over the next two weeks, Severus spent most of his time sleeping in in the Weasley/Granger guest room, being weaned off the Dreamless Sleep potion. His body had a lot of REM sleep to catch up on, and after three years of relying on the substance, his body had developed a physiological dependency on it. The pains of withdrawal began four days later. He woke up sporadically, feeling nauseous, too cold and too hot at once, and absolutely disoriented. The unsettling dreams returned as well, but he was too physically ill to even care.

The entire time, Hermione worked from home, watched him like a hawk, brought multiple potions to take the edge off the withdrawal, and silently cast one healing spell after another, making him feel as comfortable as was humanly possible under the circumstances. Normally, he would be furious about being seen in such a state, but at this point, he was too ill and worn out to care. He even kept the door to the guest room slightly ajar, so that she would not need to knock and wake him each time before entering, or maybe, simply because he found it oddly comforting to watch her work; and she did work quietly at the kitchen table, writing some kind of paper for the Ministry, while casting cautious glances in his direction.

“Shouldn\'t you be telling me how it is all my fault, for letting it get to this point?” he snarled at her.

“Your fault,” she murmured tiredly. “How is it now your fault that you were abandoned by yourself, marooned in a house with a psychopath? Tell me, how could it possibly be your fault?”

He was unable to combat her dubious logic, and drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, he awoke to the sound of the voices.

“Quiet now,” Hermione whispered. “Let him sleep.”

“Put a silencing charm.” Neville\'s voice.

“No,” Hermione said. “It\'s rude. Just keep your voices down.”

“Fine.” Ron\'s voice. “How is he?”

“Sleeping,” Hermione repeated. “Shhh..”

“How\'s he feeling?”

Suddenly, Hermione snapped, in a very low voice, but with uncharacteristic viciousness: “What the fuck is wrong with you Ron? Would you stop asking that already? If you want to know how he\'s feeling, why don\'t you stick your hand in the blender and find out?”

“Sorry,” Ron said meekly. “Will you at least tell me what\'s wrong with him?”

“None of your business. Tea? Neville?”

“Look, \'Mione, I get it,” Ron said tiredly. “I failed him. I know it. You don\'t need to rub it in.”

She sighed tiredly, and Severus heard her move, taking out something out of the cupboard.

“You, Ron?” Hermione said bitterly. “ You weren\'t the one who took his own port-key and ran, while he went back to Tom.”

“We all failed him.” Neville\'s voice was distant and cold. “But no point brooding about it now. You can\'t go back in time.”

Hermione sniffled slightly. “Are you going to drink tea or not?” she demanded resentfully. “I\'m not making it if you aren\'t going to drink it.”

“I\'ll take one,” Neville said peacefully.

“Me too. Thanks, \'Mione.”

She poured the tea, apparently, and judging by the sound, sat down. Others appeared to follow her as well.

“What if you could?” she asked suddenly. “What would you have done differently?”

A mug clanked gently against the table, and Neville spoke: “If I could do it all over again, knowing what I know now, I would have killed Harry Potter the day I saw the blood quill scar on Snape\'s hand.”

“Neville!” Ron hissed. “Come on. It wasn\'t Harry\'s fault that Tom\'s dust got stuck to him. He never asked for it. He did his best. He did what Dumbledore wanted him to do.”

“It doesn\'t matter,” Neville said stubbornly. “ Three years ago, in one of his less psycho moments, Harry said it would have been better if his mother had never tried to save him, and let him die. I argued with him then... But ... now... after all that happened since then, I\'m inclined to agree.”

“Neville,” Ron pleaded.

“You don\'t get it,” Neville whispered furiously. “You never will. You weren\'t there. You didn\'t see.”

“What did you see?” Hermione asked in a shaken voice.

“None of your business,” Neville snapped.

A long silence ensued, and the only sound that could be heard was Neville\'s rasped breathing.

“Neville,” Ron whispered.

“Look, Ron, never mind, okay,” Neville said. “I should go.”

“Neville, wait,” Hermione murmured. “Don\'t leave like this.”

“Leave me alone,” Neville muttered. “ Go take care of Snape. It\'s the bond, isn\'t it? It\'s making him sick!”

“Not really,” Hermione said uncomfortably. “And... I won\'t say anything else. Just ask him yourself when he feels better, okay?”

Neville issued a brief, resentful laugh. “What the fuck happened to you, Hermione? Used to be you couldn\'t bear to see the house-elves enslaved, and now? You aren\'t even angry that he\'s got this perversity, this fucking slave-bond, tying him to Harry.”

“I\'m trying to be practical,” she said apologetically. “Look, it\'s not my fault that the bond is permanent. That\'s just how it is. Now, he\'s got his legal rights, and his physical freedom back; and as for the rest, the magical and emotional connection, I am trying my best to respect his personal choice. And it was his choice...”

“It was NOT his choice!” Neville whispered furiously. “Harry never GAVE him a choice in Azkaban. He just took him. Like a piece of furniture.”

“I know that, and I did try stop him!” Hermione said patiently. “Ron and I both did. And Dumbledore never intended it that way... he intended for him to have a choice, whether to re-establish...”

“Right,” Neville said contemptuously. “Your beloved Dumbledore is the one who destroyed him in the first place.”

“It was Snape\'s choice back then. He wanted the magical help to help him stay on the path, and he asked for the bond, you heard him,” Hermione said sadly. “It wasn\'t something I would have recommended, but it was his choice to establish that sort of link...”

“Choice,” Neville said with derision. “Some choice. You saw his Pensive. He made one mistake, Hermione. One fucking mistake. As soon as he knew what it meant, he came to the only man he could trust, begging to fix that mistake, trying to save the woman he cared for. And what did Dumbledore say? He told Snape, you disgust me. Of course Snape asked for the bond. He would have cut his heart out and handed it over, if he had thought it would do any good. Just how much choice did he have?”

Stunned silence followed. Finally, Hermione spoke:

“Neville.. you know that you did your best for him, don\'t you?”

“Me?” Neville\'s voice rose slightly. “Me? I was worse than any of them. I sat and watched. I smiled. I fucking smiled, Hermione. Do you get that?”

She made a hushed sound at him, urging him to keep his voice down.

“Sorry,” he whispered contritely, sounding short of breath. “Just... sorry... Just ...so angry all the time... Can\'t help it. So angry I could scream... but I can\'t.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“He never did. He was so quiet. They tortured him. He never cried, never screamed. He was the only human being in that house.”

“He wasn\'t the only one,” Ron said firmly. “Look, when you work undercover, that\'s just how it is. You see things that keep you up at night. Snape himself probably had seen a fair share when he was ... you know. Spying for Dumbledore. That\'s how it works. And you can\'t always pull the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat. Sometimes you have to wait to make a difference. You went there to get him out. And you did it. And for what it\'s worth, you saved my brother that night. Knocking him out and dumping him in the back room of his Joke Shop was the best thing anyone had ever done for him in his entire life.”

“Guess what, Ron. I don\'t give a fuck about your brother right now,” Neville spat bitterly. “I should go.”

“No,” Hermione said gently. “Neville, stop and listen to me. Please.”

“What?” Neville asked, as his voice softened slightly.

“You are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. You need to go see a counsellor.”

“No, thanks.”

“Neville, please... You absolutely need to. You\'ve been through so much over the last eight years. Harry nearly sending you to Azkaban when you were trying to publish that article about Snape...losing your job as a journalist... then, losing Luna... then being the one person being able to drag Snape out of Godric\'s Hollow whenever shit hit the fan... seeing things that should have never happened... being Ginny\'s Secret Keeper, without anyone knowing... going to Azkaban, not knowing if you were going to ever come out... and then, once it was all over, losing Luna again... Neville... it\'s too much for one person to bear.”

“I am okay,” Neville said with quiet embarrassment. “It\'s not that bad. Look you guys. Sorry for freaking out on you. Really. I didn\'t mean to. Just tired, I guess.”

A long silence followed. Slowly and silently, Severus got off the bed and walked up to the door. It was very slightly ajar, and he peered through the crack, staring across the living room, at the silhouettes of the three young people gathered in the open kitchen. Neville was sitting on the chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Hermione and Ron stood next to him, their arms around him.

“Sorry,” Neville whispered again. “I\'m sorry. Really.” He moved to stand up, and freed himself from their embrace.

“Oh, Neville, come on,” Hermione murmured. “You haven\'t said anything wrong, and even if you had, you never need to apologize. Our feelings aren\'t that fragile. We know where we stand with you. But,” she insisted softly, “I still say you should see a counsellor.”

“Why?” Neville asked with sudden calm, finally standing up and heading to the door. “Can a counsellor turn back the clock?”

.... To Be Continued...


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