Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul

A/N: Ninnies. All of you. But I humbly thank you for the reviews.
Meankitty— *gets back here as commanded* Yes? What? Questions about Ginny and Draco, despite her being married to Harry? And Severus finding solace? Hrm? What? Oh, yes, well I suppose you’ll have to read on.
ApollinaV— thank you for the compliment on my balls. ;-) These guys have been screaming their heads off about not wanting Nalina to carry Severus’ child, well now she’s not, she’s carrying her bloody banged up corpse across the river Styx or wherever witches go when they die. And I too had thought about muggle American adoption laws. Me thinks they probably don’t apply here. And I’ll have to agree with you, I don’t see some megaswitch of affection being thrown either. But thank you for continuing to read.
ArabellaSnape— I most humbly agree with you that Severus does not nor is he capable of caring for Lily, at least not here. Draco and Ginny are plotting, yes, what I cannot say, you’ll simply have to read. Did Severus love Nalina? It seems so. Why can’t Hermione and Severus love each other? Would you love someone who ruined your wedding day? My thanks for your sympathies to the dead character. Please continue to read and review.
Sljh— I still say that if you want to know why he ended up with Hermione at the bar, you’ll have to read on. And keep your knickers on, Pillow Fight’s conclusion is not far down the line, but I’m being held hostage by other plot bunnies at the moment. Thank you for your reviews, please keep them up.
Hermione Snape— I keep asking that myself. I’m not sure I can. Thank you for reviewing.
RedWritingHood— I thank you, and please continue to read and review.
Electrical Storm— I’m glad it pleases you, please continue to read and review.
To the rest— I thank you all for everything you’ve written in your reviews thus far, please keep them up! Without further ado, here’s the next installment.

The grass was a bright green, though his kneeling figure, clad unusually in a white t-shirt and muggle blue jeans, created quite the contrast to the backyard. She watched him from the other side of the white washed wooden fence, eyes just focusing on his arms as they moved slowly back and forth, methodically pushing dirt around in the flowerbed. When Ginny had asked to go with her, she’d flat out told her no. Hermione was still furious at her so-called friend for everything that had unfolded so quickly. It wasn’t that she had dragged her to the wedding of her child’s father with cruel intentions of interrupting it, or the fact that it had all resulted in a tragic accident, though Hermione couldn’t help but feel that Ginny was partially to blame in that regard. She was most furious at the redhead for betraying her best friend, Harry Potter, to whom the other witch was married, by entangling herself with Draco Malfoy.

But all of those were things she would deal with later. Her eyes blinked slowly the sun still well in the sky for being hours past noon, though she knew it would burn for hours more being the dead middle of summer. She’d been watching him for hours, or so it seemed, before she finally reached over the side of the fence and found the latch to the wooden planks that acted as the gate. Hermione carefully let herself in, wincing as the gate rattled back into place, only he did not seem to notice.

Blades of the spring green bent beneath her feet as she took slow steps toward him. His head was bent, hair falling like a curtain around his face, hiding his features as he dug, bare fingers in the garden. The vibrant flowers all seemed to point skyward, unable to soak up the blazing sun from overhead. A breeze rustled gently past, sliding through tendrils of his hair and for a moment she could see his face in profile and it took her breath away, the sorrow that loomed there, haunting his already pale continence.

Hermione was unsure of how long she stood there, just next to him, watching him toil in the soil, fingers clawing new holes, adding bulbs and half sprouted plants to the already lively garden. She had never pictured him much the horticulturist, especially not donned in a thinning white cotton tee-shirt and faded denim. But he worked silently, rhythmically, as if trapped in a loop.

It startled her when after some time he spoke. “If you are looking to make yourself an addition to the garden, gaping gargoyles and statues of the like belong around the side of the house.” He muttered, not lifting his eyes from the dirt.

She didn’t know what to say, or what to do. She had not been close with the professor, not even in her school days, and that one night, that one fateful mistake, hardly counted as any sort of intimate knowledge of the man knelt before her. The comforting gesture of touching her hand to his shoulder seemed too personal for her to attempt, but words failed her. And so Hermione stood silently behind him as another soft summer breeze swept over them.

Her eyes scanned the garden in which he worked; it practically covered most of the back yard. Full figured butterfly bushes were planted closest to the house, lovely Monarchs and other gloriously winged insects hovering nearby. Trellises with flowering ivy sprawled upward over the paneling of the house, and a thick vine like plant crept across the fence. It was overwhelming, the beauty of it all, the large pond in the center with a small bridge coming through it leading to a corner with a periwinkle gazebo strung through with fairy lights. A large Blue Jacaranda Tree shaded the left side of the gazebo, its branches weeping low as if they too were in mourning.

Peacock hues of the skyflower grew around the edges of the pond, mixing and blending quite naturally with African violets and the occasional blossom of the Barbados Pride poking through. It was really quite breath taking and in all her observations, she had failed to notice that Severus had stood up and was standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What do you want?” he asked.

Hermione was startled but the serenity of the garden prevented her from shuddering. The words had still not come to her, despite all of the glorious life blooming all around her. She didn’t know what to say, and she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure as to why she had come in the first place. Of course finding him had been no easy task, as Minerva had not sought to help her, stating that perhaps it was best he was left to his own devices during such a period of grieving. However, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore had proved to be as equally helpful, if somewhat bordering on the edge of meddlesome, as the wizard had been in person, and the information passed from picture to person had landed her standing in the most breathtaking garden she had ever laid eyes on.

Cinnamon brown eyes were afraid to meet his black ones, not knowing what they would find there if she dared to look; too frightened to see further blame reflected there. And so she turned slowly but gazed down to the flowers he had been planting, red and pink hibiscus in full bloom. “I came to offer my condolences.”

Of course, Hermione knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words had left her mouth but she did not posses the ability to reclaim words once spoken. However, Severus Snape said nothing. He did not thank her, nor did he reprimand her, and if he’d heard her at all, he made no indication as such. The soft call of a tropical bird drifted through the silence, drawing Hermione’s attentions up from the flowers and over to the purple-blooming tree. In that moment, Severus walked past her, dirt and grass smudged on the knees of his jeans, and moved to kneel at the edge of the pond.

“The garden,” she said, taking soft, quick steps to where he was now kneeling. “It’s beautiful. It—”

“Belonged to my wi…” he let the word slip from his lips, not completing it. “Nalina.” Severus kept his head down as he sprinkled a handful of shimmering dust on the dirt near the stem of the flowers there. It was a rare moment for Hermione to witness, some strange gentle break in his character, but if the truth were told, she knew nothing of the man who had reigned terror over her and her former housemates during her days at Hogwarts. Of course if the truth were told, Hermione Granger actually knew nothing of the man who knelt before her, at least not in regards to his personal life. So perhaps it was not so shocking for him to say such things, but she found it awkward nonetheless.

Words still seemed inefficient to convey what she felt for him. Pity was the closest thing that she could label it. It was difficult for her to empathize because Hermione had never experienced such a tragic loss, and she found it difficult, even now, to picture Severus Snape capable of strong emotions toward another. “I am sorry.” She said, feeling that those words were at best inadequate to the worlds of grief plaguing his heart.

“You have spoken your condolences, Granger, I don’t need to hear them repeated.” He said. Though his voice was not as harsh as it once was when reprimanding her, the familiarity of his scorn toward her was somewhat comforting, at least more so compared to the strange emotional confession he’d inadvertently given her moments ago.

She dared not to say more, but to remain silent defeated her purpose in seeking him out in the first place. “I don’t mean to waste your time—”

“Then don’t.” he said. Severus stood and walked across the footbridge, standing just near the entrance to the gazebo. He waved his hand and the fairy lights lit, though it was hard to see their glittering twinkle against the bright afternoon sun.

The well recognized sting of his lost patience was not as threatening as it once would have been to her. Hermione crossed the footbridge, gazing into the pond, the water seeming as pure blue as the sky above. With newfound courage and fresh words to her voice she approached him. “It’s the matter of—” she had to be cautious in her wording, pausing only for a moment. “—of the baby. The adoption agency wishes me to pick parents to sign him over to…” she drew in a heavy breath. “I thought I would offer him to you first.”

His black eyes jetted to hers before Hermione was able to look away. She was caught in his state, the intense gaze penetrating right through her, searing into her being. “For what? In hopes that he would somehow replace the child that I’ve lost in this travesty?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Severus, I didn’t mean—”

“If you think for one moment that that bastard brat of yours could hold nearly a tenth of an ounce of importance that the daughter I lost would have held for me, you are sorely mistaken.” He attempted to growl, but his words were muddled with tears that he was clearly straining to hold back. But before Hermione could utter even a squeak of shock he closed his eyes, words tumbling from his lips once more. “The day fate tore her from my arms, the day you decided to prevent our union with your joyous news of one drunken mistake, I lost the only child I will ever father that day, and if you think for one second that I would ever show that abomination of a human being an ounce of notice let alone interest or concern then you are far more foolish than your pathetic cheating friend who forced your presence upon me that abysmal day.”

Tears welled to her eyes. He was blaming her. Of all the things she’d expected to find in his eyes, blame for his loss, and cause of his grief was not among them. Hermione’s knees trembled, and her lips parted to speak but words failed her again that day. Severus waved his hand at her. “Leave. Leave now. And do not return here again, you’ve no right to be here.” His words were bitter, but firm, still filled with his own tears as he turned his back to her and knelt beside a stone statue of a lovely fairy woman cradling a baby in her arms.

Her feet could not move fast enough as she ran back across the footbridge, careful not to step on any of the flowers as she fled from the garden, back over the grassy lawn that led to the fence. As soon as she’d pushed through the gate, Hermione apparated, disappearing with a pop, leaving the gate latch swinging in the sweet summer wind.