When It Rains

I hope no one fell out of their chairs from the posting of this update. I almost couldn’t believe it myself. I sat down tonight to work on another fic and found myself working on this one instead. Many thanks to those who have waited so patiently (and some not so patiently) for an update to this story. As always, I don’t own Harry Potter or any part of the HP-verse.


Chapter 5

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, heavily. He had been ensconced in Albus’s bedchamber for the last hour, listening to the former headmaster’s soliloquy of self-derision. It seemed the list of Dumbledore’s sins and wrong doings was quite long indeed. A glance at the
grandfather clock in the corner of the room showed it to be nearing the dinner hour. She would be arriving soon.

“…Which brings me to more pressing matters,” Albus was saying. “Miss Granger will be here shortly and it is long past time to make amends.”

A single, black eyebrow shot up in question. “Amends, Albus?” Severus queried.

“Yes,” the older man replied, his voice thick with emotion. “She gave up her innocence, Severus. It was too high a price to ask of anyone, least of all someone as bright and gifted as Miss Granger.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but she was hardly innocent,” Severus snapped, wishing instantly that he had kept his growing ire in check. Hermione’s innocence, or rather lack thereof, was a secret that he alone had carried with him these long years.

“What did you say?” Albus’ asked, disbelieving.

Severus scrubbed a single hand across his face then turned to face his long-time friend and confidant. “She was not innocent,” he repeated.

“But she must have been. We administered Veratiserum. She spoke the truth when questioned.”

“I assure you, Albus, I was not her first,” Severus stated, tiredly.

“But the boy…”

“Is Severus’ son,” Hermione stated quietly as she entered the room. “Of that I am certain. As to his claim that he was not my first…No, I don’t believe he was.”

If either of the two men where shocked by Hermione’s sudden appearance, they did not show it. In truth, it was not her early arrival which captured their attention but rather her confirmation of Severus’ conclusion.

“Forgive me, Miss Granger,” her former professor began, “But perhaps you would enlighten us as to just what you meant by that rather ambiguous statement?”

“Save the intimidation bit for your First Years, Severus. I haven’t the patience for it right now,” Hermione snapped as she settled into the chair across from him. Traveling always left her feeling less than amiable but combined with the throbbing in her head, she was a full blown grouch.

Severus opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Albus’ raised hand. “There’ll be time enough for that later, Severus,” he said tiredly. “But for now, if one of you would care to explain?”

Neither spoke right away but it was Hermione who broke the silence. “As I was coming up the stairs, I overheard you mentioning the Veratiserum you administered to me, to confirm that I had not had...that I was still a virgin.” The headmaster nodded and she continued, “When I answered you I was telling you the truth - as I knew it to be. Over the last several months, I have begun having recurring nightmares of that night which lead me to believe otherwise.”

Next to her, Severus flinched. He too had nightmares though he suspected his were for a different reason. Sixteen years is a long time to despise oneself.

“No, Severus,” she stated flatly. “Not that. Oddly, never that. These dreams are more like incomplete memories. The nightmare is not knowing if they’re real and at the same time knowing they must be.”

She was telling the truth. He could see it in her eyes. The fear the dreams invoked in her was almost palpable. “Go on,” he said.

“If these dreams are really memories, then you, Severus, were not my first. Lucius Malfoy was.”

Surging to his feet, Severus cursed loudly and long, then punched the wall next to the mantlepiece. The bones of his hand broke with an audible crack but he was oblivious to the pain. It was all for nothing. Nothing! All these long years he’d carried the guilt of her stolen innocence when the deed had belonged to Malfoy. A question rose in his mind, one he didn’t want to contemplate but found himself asking nonetheless.

“You’re certain that I’m...that he’s...that we?” The words were harshly spoken, belying the fear he felt.

The mask that had been firmly kept in place slipped just a little and Hermione understood in that moment that Severus truly did love their son. Their son. “Yes, Severus,” she replied as she stood and crossed the room to stand before him. One hand reached up and cupped his cheek. “Devlin is your son.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment then opened them. He covered her hand with his own and said, “I’m sorry.”

Puzzled, she asked, “For what?”

“For...” his words were muted by the sudden, wheezing sound of coughing as Albus struggled for breath. The old man was doubled over, his body racked with spasms. Severus rushed to his side and pulling a vial from the bedside table, uncorked it and urged Albus to drink the contents. With tear-filled eyes, Hermione watched as Severus tended to him with surprising care and gentleness. For the first time since entering the room, she noted the changes in Severus’ appearance. While he still moved with cat-like grace, the rigidity he carried during the war and the years prior was gone. His face had lost some of its pallor and now held a healthy glow. The hooked-nose was somewhat more noticeable with his hair pulled back from his face but it was complimented by the light dusting of beard that now framed his jaw. All in all, Severus, though not classically handsome, was more striking than ever.

As if he could sense her stare, his head whipped around and their eyes met and held. Hermione forgot to breathe. Her heart slammed against her chest so hard she was certain he must have heard it. She swallowed hard and turned away, trampling down the tempestuous emotions of her youth and focusing on the matter at hand.

When she turned back around, Severus was seated once again in the wing-backed chair and regarding her speculatively over his steepled fingers. A slight inclination of his head indicated that she should sit and Hermione found herself blindly obeying the unspoken command.

The moment she was settled, he spoke, “Albus will not last the week, Miss Granger. He is old and his body is frail. He sent for you in order to make amends, to atone for what he feels are injustices which were heaped upon you while you were a student here.”

Hermione’s eyes darted to the bed in the corner of the room where the aged headmaster rested, his soft snore echoing in the still chamber.

“He is sleeping comfortably at the moment,” Severus stated in response to the question in her eyes. “I gave him a simple sleeping draught combined with a mild analgesic to ease his discomfort.”

She nodded her head in understanding. “What exactly were the two of you discussing when I walked in? I do apologize for entering unannounced. Minerva said you both were expecting me.”

“No need to apologize, Miss Granger,” he said. “You’ve always been somewhat lacking when it comes to propriety.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously but she held her tongue, choosing instead to wait for her question to be answered.

Severus rose once again and began to slowly pace the length of the oriental carpet in front of the fireplace. His hands were clasped behind his back as he walked. “For the past hour I’ve been listening to an accounting of Albus’ life. Your admission brings forth the question of your son and his role in the Prophecy.”

“Our son,” she corrected. “The prophecy no longer matters, Severus. Voldemort is gone. Why rehash everything? The nightmares are bad enough. I don’t need the added stress of speculation.”

“Added stress?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Hermione sat forward in her chair, scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration. She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear then faced the man sitting across from her.

“When Harry arrived yesterday with your missive, I was already packed. I had intended to return to Hogwarts in the hopes that Albus might help me find some way around the oath of secrecy I’d taken before Devlin was born. It has never set well with me, not telling him about you. He has become withdrawn, melancholy even. I had decided yesterday that it was time he knew the truth. I just didn’t know how I was going to tell him.” She was crying and didn’t realize it. “Honestly, how do you tell your son that he was the product of near-rape? How do you make him understand that he was simply a by-product of war and the scheming of a power-hungry lunatic?”

Long, slightly callused fingers swept the tears from her cheek startling Hermione. The pad of his thumb traced the swell of her bottom lip. Her head snapped up and once again she found herself staring into Severus’ dark eyes.

“When the time is right, we will tell him - together. For now, Albus needs his rest, as do you. I, on the other hand, need to see Poppy.” He raised his right hand which had begun to color and swell. “Get some sleep, Miss Granger. We’ll decide how to handle this situation in the morning.”

The mask was firmly back in place. Nodding her head resolutely, Hermione said, “Very well, until tomorrow. By the way, Severus?” she asked when she reached the door. “After nearly seventeen years, I think it’s permissible for you to use my given name.” The door closed behind her with a thud, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

“Good night, Hermione,” Severus whispered.

Behind his drawn velvet bed curtains, Albus Dumbledore rolled over, pulling the heavy down comforter over his shoulders and smiled.