At the Shore of The Heart

a/n: Kleenex alert.....





******



Severus felt numb as he pulled on his jeans. His mouth felt a little fuzzy from the Firewhisky the night before, and the owl tapping his window was working itself into a frenzy.



‘Fuck off,’ he muttered under his breath, but he was so tired there was no force behind it. He struggled to his feet and opened the small window. The tawny owl blasted past him in a whirl of downy feathers, losing some in its haste. It hooted in a disgruntled way and Severus scowled at it.



‘Just give me the letter. I’m in a worse mood than you will ever be,’ he grumbled. The owl rolled its eyes at him, and he was reminded of Hermione’s response to his sarcasm. He took the envelope from the owl without looking at it, his thoughts on the young woman who had supported him, or had at least tried to.



With a grimace, he acknowledged that his life had taken a downward turn after her departure. He only had to glance around the room he was in to see that. At least when he knew she would be visiting, he cleaned up a little, even if it was only cursory. Now, there were a couple of empty Firewhisky bottles sitting on various surfaces. There was also one under the sofa, but he had forgotten about that. A film of dust covered everything except his wedding photograph. It was the one thing he continued to dust each day. When Hermione visited he would also take the time to shower and shave, knowing that if he didn’t, she would badger him until he had to shuffle upstairs and carry out his ablutions, then shuffle back down the stairs ready for inspection afterwards. With a sigh, Severus wished, not for the first time, that he had just gone with her. But it hadn’t seemed right, going away with another woman so soon after Lucy. He knew his reasoning was twisted. Lucy had liked Hermione, and she was just a friend, nothing more. If she had been male, perhaps it would have been different. Running his hands through his hair, he realised he hadn’t showered in almost two weeks and could almost smell himself. He would need to spruce himself up for today.



He stood and lifted down his wedding photograph. The confetti appeared to be in stasis, Lucy’s blue eyes looking upwards as she laughed brightly, clutching his hand to her chest. He was beaming at her, his eyes never straying from her face. He wished now that he had employed a wizard and not a Muggle photographer, to capture the scene as it had played out. He remembered it vividly, the confetti falling, Lucy’s melodic laughter, and then a cheer from the gathered guests as she had turned to him and planted a huge kiss on his lips. He had blushed, and she had teased him, but he hadn’t really minded. He had just murmured that he wasn’t a lover of public displays of affection, and she had laughed and kissed him again.



A small smile played on Severus’s lips, and as he ran a finger down the edge of her cheek, a tear fell onto the glass. He hadn’t even realised he was crying.



‘Happy Birthday, my love,’ he whispered softly.



******



An hour later, after a long hot shower and a badly needed change of clothes, Severus waked back into his lounge. He grimaced as the sour and musky smell of stale Firewhisky hit his nostrils. He lifted his wand and cleaned as much of the room as he could, Accioing the empty bottles and walking through with them to the kitchen. He still didn’t use magic very often, but he was in a hurry today.



He glanced down briefly at the unopened letter that he had left on the sofa. The red wax seal, bearing the familiar Hogwarts insignia in sharp relief, told him all he needed to know. Minerva had been writing to him every month since she had heard about Lucy’s death, and every month he read her missals and ignored them. He wasn’t ready to experience much of the outside world yet.



He brushed his hair behind his ears. It had grown longer, and as he looked in the mirror, he realised that he looked much the same as he had done when teaching at Hogwarts. Despite the Muggle clothes – a shirt that Lucy had bought him for Christmas, and a pair of jeans they had bought together on a shopping trip – he still favoured black. At least he was clean shaven and looked half presentable, he thought, mentally shrugging. He glanced briefly down at Lucy, grabbed his outdoor jacket and his wallet, and left.





******



As he arrived at the Cemetery, it started to drizzle with rain. He lifted the bouquet of white roses and cradled them in his arms. He berated himself for not applying a stasis charm to protect them from the weather, but he was not the only person visiting the graveyard and he would look a bit odd if he started waving his wand about. He walked up the thin path to the top of the hill. Lucy’s grave wasn’t the most recent, but it was in a less populated part of the grounds. Normally, this meant that Severus could visit in peace and quiet, and think his thoughts in private. However, as he climbed further up, he noticed that there was already someone at the grave, kneeling and pulling up some stray weeds. As he walked closer, he could see that although her hair had been lightened by the sun, and that she had come out unprepared for the weather, her arms bared in a pale blue short sleeved T-shirt that showed off her obvious tan, Hermione had come to visit Lucy on her birthday. His stomach flipped over with warmth for her. She had been genuinely fond of Lucy, and she hadn’t forgotten her.



As he walked closer he slowed his steps a little. He could hear her singing. Her voice was soft and light, nothing special, but she was able to hold the tune and the notes, although he detected a small catch in her voice.



‘Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…’ her voice faltered for a moment and Severus watched her brush tears away with the back of her hand.



‘Do you think she can hear you?’ he asked her quietly.



Hermione brushed her hands on her trousers and stood, looking down at her handiwork.



‘I like to think so,’ she smiled, not looking at him.



Severus noticed that a bright red pelargonium had been planted to the right of the headstone, a rusty old trowel and an empty plant pot beside it.



‘Did you plant that?’ he murmured.



‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘I was telling Lucy about Spain and the woman who lived in the apartment below me. She had window boxes that trailed with red pelargonium. They were so cheerful and bright. I thought she would like it,’ Hermione turned and looked at him, taking in his dour appearance, but glad to see he looked much as he had before she left, which meant he was at least eating.



Severus looked at her, his eyes compelling her to see that he was sorry for pushing her away. ‘Are you back for long?’ he asked her.



Hermione sighed a little. ‘I don’t know yet. Things have changed a little, so I might go away again. I was thinking about Italy, or maybe Greece. Are you well, Severus?’



‘As well as can be expected, I imagine. I couldn’t really say. You have been a better judge of how I am recently,’ he twisted his mouth up in a small smile and she smiled softly back at him.



‘Lovely roses,’ she nodded at the bouquet.



‘Lucy’s favourite,’ he responded, feeling awkward but not knowing what to say.



‘I’ll leave you to say Happy Birthday, then. Take care of yourself, Severus.’ Hermione rested her hand on his arm briefly, then lifted her trowel and walked back down the path.



Severus watched her for a moment and then turned, kneeling to put his flowers on Lucy’s grave. With swift slight of hand, he cast a semi-permanent charm on the roses. They wouldn’t last forever, but they would still be here in a months’ time. His hand touched the soft tufts of grass that had started to grow, and his gaze fell on her headstone.



‘I miss you,’ he said sadly, ‘I miss you…’







*******



A longer chapter... hope it helped the cause. I\'m still crying this end...