A Sad and Happy Story

Hey, so if you have an idea for a better title, review and give it to me. I had no clue where this story was going when I posted the first chapter, and I’m still not sure. I’d like your input! Even if you don’t have ideas, review and say “Update, you loser!”—I’ll love it. Which probably says something very interesting about my psyche. And bless you, who have reviewed.

Flashback is from Snivellus Avenged.


Chapter Four


“The portraits are all buzzing about it, Severus,” Dumbledore was saying over dinner, “frankly, I think it is fantastic. Just the distraction you need. It will do you both a world of good. When was the last time you did something you enjoyed?”

‘When I killed you, you meddlesome old man,’ Severus thought, mutinously. Though it had destroyed him at the time—and he readily admitted he was grudgingly fond of the old man—not a day passed anymore, it seemed, that the Headmaster was not finding new ways to vex him. Perhaps over time he had forgotten what daily contact with the eccentric old man had been like.

Albus Dumbledore felt no pressure to conform to the laws of society; why should death be any different? As surely as Fudge’s regime had rejected him, death had spat him back out again for the living to deal with. Marvelous.

“Never fear, never fear,” the Headmaster carried on in his colleague’s silence, “I know how you value your privacy. The portraits in question swore to me that they would share this information with no one else. You are free to do as you have always done.” ‘Good in silence, with no one to say thank you,’ the old man thought sadly. Secretly, he hoped that more would come of this. He had known for several years now those two would be quite a match if… well. He reached over and patted Severus’ hand.

Irritably, Severus excused himself to the dungeons. He may as well get everything set up.

Hermione watched her professor storm away from the table and out the hall. He had the potential to be very intimidating, but apparently he also had other qualities though he hid them well. She hoped the intimidating professor was not who she would meet with this evening.

For most of the meal, Hermione had been in her own world. She didn’t even notice when Harry and Ginny approached her.

“Hi,” Ginny said somewhat guiltily; Harry hung back looking abashed.

“Hello,” Hermione said stoically.

“Listen, there’s no easy way to say this. We’re sorry about what Ron said; he is, too. Anyway, Harry and I would love it if you would join us for the evening—we’ll play cards or something.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny, I can’t do that.”

“Really, Hermione, we’re sorry. What’s the point of avoiding us, anyway? You don’t really want to be alone,” Ginny coaxed.

“I have plans,” Hermione replied tersely.

“If you don’t want to, just say it. I can understand you being mad, but you don’t have to lie.”

“You are so much like your brother! And you aren’t sorry!” Hermione noticed that most of the Great Hall was suddenly listening in on their conversation, so she lowered her voice, “And I really do have plans, excuse me.”

On her way out of the hall, Hermione heard Ginny say to Harry, “You try to be nice…”

Whatever.

Although Professor Snape had not indicated for her to do so, Hermione stopped by her room to change out of the uniform she had been working in all day. The freshness cheered her somewhat. She looked relaxed, but still passably formal in the light colored linen trousers and light blue oxford shirt with the sleeves that rolled up so easily. It would be much easier to brew in this than in her uniform and robe—the sleeves were always getting in the way.

Fortunately, most of her peers were involved in homework or social activities and she was able to reach the dungeon classroom undisturbed. She rapped sharply on the door.

“Enter.”

Hermione was relieved to see that he was less formally dressed as well. The layers had to be tiresome when dealing with potions, but he didn’t brew in every class, so it would be less of an inconvenience for him than for the students.

He was thinner, smaller than she would have imagined in a plain white shirt and black trousers, but still very tall; she supposed his robes which were so intimidating also served to make him look larger. Hermione shook her head, dismissing her thoughts, and wondering what had made her study his appearance so intently.

“What can I do, professor?”

“As you will see, I have arranged several workstations. Some of them are stable on their own and will not require much of our attention. The table to your left has everything you will need to complete the potions you will be brewing this evening. If you find you require anything more, let me know. I will be at my desk, grading exams.”

“Yes, professor, and thank you for the… distraction.” She smiled at him and it took everything in him to keep Severus from returning that smile. He was pleased not only with her progress, but with himself. If he had learned anything from the past several decades of his life it was how to and more importantly, how not to treat a woman. It was a skill he dearly wished he had acquired earlier on in life.

Sitting at his desk, Severus found it was incredibly difficult to keep his mind on grading. He watched the result of his successful experiment—which upon reflection was perhaps his first foire into Albus-esque meddling—with interest. She was in her element; a soft smile lighting up her features as she performed the somewhat menial tasks.

She gasped in surprise when their eyes met, which was when he first realized that she had probably been staring at him, also.

“Do you require assistance, Miss Granger?”

“Well, I have completed this potion and it would certainly go faster if two of us put it in the phials.”

Severus rose to assist her, and that became the pattern of the evening. He would grade, she would brew, and when she had completed the potion they bottled it together. Of course, he was careful not to stare so obviously again. She was not so careful. Multiple times he caught the young witch staring in his direction, but he dismissed it as her somewhat spacey nature and moved on until after they had completed bottling the final potion of the evening. Her small, cold hand gently grasped his as she looked him in the eye and thanked him again before leaving for her own common room, leaving Severus to contemplate the affectionate nature of Gryffindor women—when the mood struck.

***

“I love you, Sev.”

“Lily… ” he began in a warning tone.

“No, I mean it, I love you.”

Severus exhaled sharply into Lily’s hair and pursed his lips.

“Do you love me?” she asked, craning her neck until she could almost see him. “Do you?”

“Lily,” Severus said evenly, “you are my best, my only, friend. Surely you know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear you say it. I need to hear it, Sev, just say it. Tell me.”

“I did.”

“No, no. Say the words, please.” Why, oh why did she have to do that?

“Lily, this is a bad time. You’ve been hurt; you’re…”

“Vulnerable, exactly. I need you to make me feel better, and I would feel better if you told me.”

“Lily,” he whispered against her cheek, “sweet Lily, you know I love you. Everything’s going to be alright. Get some rest.”

“I do love you,” she said.

***

That night had changed their relationship. Prior to that night, Severus was sure Lily was never going to speak to him again. Lily had been difficult and demanding most of the time, but rarely he saw the affectionate side of him which drew him to her and broke his heart.

In spite of him, time did heal all wounds. He found that experiencing these memories when they came upon him was considerably less difficult than it had been in the past. Perhaps he was immune to pain, or perhaps he was healing.