Lacerations of the Soul

Chapter 8

A million reasons raced through his head as he thought as to why he should return to the heartless bastard that he’d always acted around her, a million reasons why he should distance himself from the striking brunette currently sitting across the small dinner table, but as she started to fill her plate all those reasons seemed to vanish into smoke. He glanced at her as she began to eat her fill of the meal before them, and he only stopped staring when she looked up at him. “Are you not hungry, Severus?”

“Oh I’m famished.. I just… I was thinking.” He scowled as he began to fill his plate. They ate in silence for what seemed like a millennia, until Severus cleared his throat.

“Hermione, I was thinking… It might be best if we just slept in the same room tonight… I’d never try anything with you, but you might sleep better if you weren’t alone. Not only that, I’d be closer if the dreams resurfaced.” He had thought of this for the past thirty minutes, which is why the silence had occurred from his perspective.

“Ok.” Hermione said softly, her stomach doing some sort of belly flip. She too had been trying to think of some way to broach the subject, but was afraid to ask. “Thankyou, I just.. I just.. I’m so afraid to sleep Severus! I keep hearing them yelling, screaming, begging me to save them. I see you being tortured, and..” Suddenly she didn’t feel much like eating anymore. She pushed away from the table and rushed from the room.

The poor girl ran as fast as she could out of the kitchen and into her bedrooms, throwing herself against the silk and crying.

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Severus stood outside the door for a few agonizing minutes before he knocked upon the oak. “Hermione, can I come in?”

There was no answer just more muffled cries, he knew she was soaking her silk sheets, ruining them, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He pushed open the door, somehow knowing that the girl didn’t place a ward around them, and strode in carefully, afraid of the verbal backlash that could be thrust his way at any moment. He collected the girl in his arms, and held her as she continued to grieve for the parents that she would never see again.

He vowed to himself that the dark lord would die, if not by Potter’s prophesized hands then by his very own.

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Molly Weasley lamented over her attire, she tried to think back to how the Granger’s had dressed. Muggle professionalism at its finest, was all she could come up with. She knew that she’d have to take her bustling hoard into London to come up with something adequate to wear to a funeral…a muggle funeral that is. If there were to have it in the magical world, she’d just wear black formal attire, but this was the muggle world. She was at a loss, and knew that Hermione could not help her with this.

She imagined the fiasco that carting her family into muggle London would cause, and thus she decided against it, instead taking their well memorized measurements along with her instead. As she began to depart from headquarters, her daughter caught her attention.

“Mum, where are you going?”

“To London, I need to get us all some clothing to attend the Granger’s funeral arrangements, and as they were well loved in the muggle society, we will have to dress the part.” Ginny nodded.

“Do you think that Harry and I could go with you? He knows quite a bit about what one would wear you know.” Molly nodded, and thanked the heavens that her daughter was as brilliant as she was in a clutch. She had no idea what she would be getting or how without his help.

The trio departed for the muggle world, armed to face as daunting a foe as Voldemort, called a department store.

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Ron sat brooding in his room within the order’s walls. He’d screwed up. He royally screwed up… No he fucked up beyond all recognition. It was as if his life was spiraling inward and he was doomed to be alone. He should have thought more of what was going on with his girlfriend, he should have not cast that damn silencing spell, and he’d have been there. He… He would just have to set things right as soon as possible, but unfortunately he had no clue where Snape lived, so he’d just have to wait for her to come to him… If she would even consider that after the ass he’d made of himself.

He absent mindedly wandered the corridors of the overly large manor. Finding a dark room with little in the way of amenities, He sat in the dark and sighed. His life felt a lot like this room anymore. He might be able to find another girl to snog, and maybe she’d let him ‘dip his broomstick’ as he so eloquently put it the other morning, but for some strange reason he doubted it would be as satisfying as it could have been.

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“Severus, I never imagined you would be as understanding as you are being with me.” Hermione looked up from his tear soaked robes. “I seem to have made a mess of your robes.”

“Don’t worry about the robes, Mione. They’ll wash, or I can always buy another set. I understand because I know how it feels to lose what is important to you. I lost my mother, mainly because of my association with the Dark Lord, I never wanted that, but because she fell in love with a muggle, it made me seem like less a wizard. I toss her away, and when she died a few years later, I didn’t mourn her death; I didn’t try to rectify the situation. Not for years.

“It seems that once you make a decision like I made, you never get the chance to fix what you should have. I’m not using you to atone for my wrongdoings, not really. I hope that I can feel better about myself in the process of helping you, but I honestly want to help you. No one should be forced to live their life alone Hermione. I’ve done it for far too many years, always being whisked away in the middle of the night to serve some foul beast that might have possibly been a man at one time. I’m not even sure what I serve anymore.

“I don’t want to mislead you Hermione, I’m not sure what will come of our healing, of our new and blossoming ‘friendship’ if you will, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop whatever happens. I promise you, however, I’ll keep you safe from whatever I am able, and I’ll die protecting you from all the things magical. I can’t save you from the pain your parent’s deaths have caused, but I can help to lessen the burden.” He pulled her to him in a simple yet effective hug.

Hermione’s eyes were wet with tears, red from crying, and her heart felt lighter than it had since the accident. It was as if she finally had someone to pull some of the pain away. Who knew it was the snarky potions master that would come to her aid?

“Thank you, Severus. I know it’s growing late in the afternoon, after our late lunch and my continued tears, I was wondering if there would be any way we could possibly go to muggle London to get an outfit for my parents funeral? I just don’t want to go by myself.”

“Of course we can, Hermione… However, you might want to wash your face a bit, and I need to change my robes, I suppose I’ll pick up some muggle clothing for the funeral as well.” He meant to think the latter part but was glad he’d said it aloud when he saw the look register on her face.

“You…your…you’re going with me to the funeral?” The astonished look on her face, the sheer shock, was worth a thousand galleons to the potions master.

“Of course I’m going to the funeral with you, you silly witch. I told you I was here to help y—“ He hadn’t a chance to finish the sentence, as a flurry of witch came sailing into his chest, his arms wrapped around her of their own volition. Her lips crashed down on his in a powerful, hungry, all consuming kiss.

It was powerful, but it was also chaste, and was over almost as soon as it began. “thank you Severus, Thank you.” She kissed him again and again, punctuating each syllable. Then when her mind came back to her, she blanched. As if reading her mind, and once more he didn’t need to the look on her face filled in all speculation, he spoke.

“Don’t apologize Hermione…and you are most welcome.”