[AN: I am really proud of this chapter, I worked really hard on it. Hope you guys like it too! Things are progressing pretty good, so keep your fingers crossed and hold on🤞. Also, I am really thankful for all the comments. You guys are amazing and these little notes from you simply make my day. It makes it all worth it. Keep sending them in! -love, Bonny💖]
Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
- Oscar Wilde (Requiescat)
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My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson (Come into the Garden Maud)
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"You see, the thing that I've always wondered about vampires..." Hermione began as soon as she saw Snape enter. She was munching on some chocolate and he quirked an eybrow up at her. "Why don't they have like a blood-bank or something, where they could get a monthly fill, instead of attacking humans?"
She continued, smirking, "I mean, if you're hungry, you would go to the nearest restaurant and grab a burger or some other food, rather than jumping over a sty, get hold of a pig, tear it's flesh, put the meat between two buns and eat! Have you ever thought about it?...It's weird..."
He forced a smile, but there was a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. "I don't think I can do witty today, Granger."
Hermione was a little disheartened by this and her smirk vanished; she was confused as to what it was about today that bummed him so, but she knew asking too many questions about it never proved wise. But the thing she definitely knew was, his mood was the worst today- mellow, if not enraged- and thus the whole day was slated to not go well. She decided to zip her mouth for the better and just let him be.
Snape walked out right in front of her eyes, closing the door behind him as he went out of the office. When he left, an unnerving silence ensued; Hermione didn't have an idea as to how to kill time; it would seem that it must be pretty easy but now that her mind was fixated on that one thing, she couldn't focus on anything else, couldn't let her brain go idle- the curiosity was nearly killing her. But one step closer to feeding this curiosity of hers would mean instant reprobation.
She worked on her breathing, to meditate her way to free her mind from such thoughts. She roamed about the room for a while, eventually settling down with a book. But she ended up simply leafing through the pages, with the words dissolving in their own ink.
.............................................................
Snape had given a full round of the entire circumference of the castle, his steps now leading him back to his quarters. In his mind, a very fierce battle was ensuing- to do or not to do. Just a second before he opened the office door, his emotional half won and he decided to go ahead with his heart. Someday...well, that someday is today.
He entered the room to find Hermione quietly sitting on the couch with a book. She looked up hopefully as he entered; he was breathing heavily and looked like a man passing through the turmoil of warring with himself. He took in a long breath of composure and blurted out, "Can I take you somewhere?"
Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this, but she couldn't be more excited, and rather curious too. She jumped up immediately, eyes wide and lively with animation. "Where do you have in mind?"
He moved slowly, deliberating and then passed right by her, but instead of going out, he ventured further into the room. Alive with interest, she followed; he went through the door to the inner hallway, turned left and stopped in front of the door of the room he always kept locked.
Hermione was bubbling with enthusiasm, by this time, but controlled herself with a lot of difficulty; it must be taking a lot of his willpower to finally let her in on this and his trepidation seemed justified; she didn't want to do anything to ruin it for him or for herself. It's happening! It's finally happening...and so unexpectedly!
He waved his wand over the door to remove the incantations he had placed on it, then tapped the lock and it clicked open. He glanced at Hermione once, emanating a sigh, and she felt he needed some reassurance. "I think I should let you know...that I'm honoured...that you are choosing to share your secret...and to me of all people..." He just nodded, hoping to not regret his decision and pushed the door open, letting her enter before him.
She had went in with an unbiased mind, but was still surprised to see the inside of the coveted room for the first time. It was a lot bigger from the inside; a negligible part of the wall was visible since everywhere was covered with bookshelves filled with volumes from his private collection. Snape stood back as he watched her take in the entire expanse of the room. There was a comfortable seat to read and a small table in the middle and a writing desk, chair and a wall-cabinet at the far end of the enclosed space; there was no window and the room was rather dark and dingy. However, she couldn't quite understand the need to be so secretive of what this room contained, but it must be something that held reverence to him. She skipped over to one of the bookcases, " 'Beauty and the Beast' much?"
He smiled a little, finally discharging his nervous energy. She smiled too as she wondered aloud, fingering the spines of the books absent-mindedly.
"I have spent far too much time wondering what household item I would've turned into if I was in Beauty and the Beast."
Presently, Snape proceeded over to where the cabinet was and he looked austere indeed; Hermione realised this was no time for light jesting. She came over to the table and noticed a diary on it; it looked like it had been used, with ink and quill also present there and she guessed he kept a personal journal or something like that.
"What's this?" She plucked out an old logbook-like thing from an assortment of documents and files. It wasn't as dusty as the rest of them and she opened it to a page that marked a record of potions, how many batches of them were made and how many had been sent to different hospitals.
"Oh, that...?" Snape glanced at it once while opening the lock of the cabinet. "That is the ledger I keep, for all the healing potions I had been experimenting on...I kept a record of how many effective ones I could send to the hospitals."
"You mean, you have been brewing potions for the hospitals too? All this time?"
"Yes. You know, the ones suffering from the after effects of the Cruciatus curse...the ones like Mr.Longbottom's parents. They don't have any hope of getting better. My potions give them momentary relief...helps them sleep...if that's any consolation...That, and some other draughts too, diseases that didn't really have any medical remedy...till now."
It was as if, what he had done in the war wasn't enough, that he turned out to have such a secret philanthropic nature and Hermione could only look at the man she loved with renewed admiration.
"This is what I really wanted to show you." He brought her attention to the pensieve and glass vial he had brought out of the cabinet. She came to his side and observed more closely; the pensieve was a little smaller than the one Dumbledore had and there were a number of other such glass vials inside the cabinet. She knew what they were: memories. She was astounded that he was going to show her one of his actual memories; she couldn't believe how lucky she was- there were a lot of walls crumbling down today.
"Are you sure?" she asked, stopping his hand. He blinked and nodded. "I am. Are you sure that you want to see this..?"
"Oh yes!" Hermione was much eager indeed but caught herself before saying, 'Hell yeah!'.
He poured the milky liquid into the pensieve and touched it with his wand to turn it to inky-black figures swirling inside the bowl. He looked to Hermione to check whether she was ready and she gazed back at him and nodded. Together, they dived headfast into the memories.
The whirlpool of inky blackness finally settled and Hermione found herself standing on the side of a road. Her surroundings were disconcertingly bleak and destitute; she would've been quite perturbed had she not felt Snape's commanding presence by her side. In conformity with the desolate and dreary concrete city, the sky was also overcast and crepuscular. The sign at the head of the street read: Spinners End.
"Who would wanna live here?" Hermione wondered aloud, scanning the street filled with uncannily analogous grey houses facing each other with imperturbable faces.
"That happens to be my home." Snape replied, implying the house right across from them.
"It's a...lovely little residence." Hermione quickly corrected herself and giggled nervously. He arched his eyebrows up at her but didn't say anything. Truly, Hermione was the only vibrant hue in this monochromatic theme.
Before long, someone came out of the house; it was surprising that there could be life inside such a defunct and barren structure, although the man who came into view could hardly be called lively. He was wearing ancient black dress-robes and shoes that he hadn't bothered to polish, he was lank but standing tall, with skin as sallow as ever and his hair limp and greasy, which he had made some effort to fix but had given up in the end. It was a young Snape- his face a lot youthful than the one who was watching him along with Hermione now.
She noticed him tug at his cuffs and guessed he was trying to hide his newly-acquired Dark mark. Though it couldn't possibly be glimpsed, his paranoia was purely psychological. He was headed for somewhere, dressed formally but his expression and stance strangely funereal. He glanced around insipidly, seemingly undecisive, once almost looking like he was about to change his mind and then started walking, his pace torpid.
With curiosity, Hermione immediately followed, with Snape lagging a step behind as he already knew the sequence of the events that were to follow. Had this been a tape or a C.D, it would've been worn out with the number of rewinds.
The scenes fast-forwarded to a setting at the church, where a wedding ceremony was being performed; the atmosphere was a lot more cheerful and celebratory here, apart from of course the shady corner at the far end of the hall where the young Snape chose to sit. It was like he carried his very own sepulchral umbrella wherever he went.
Hermione and the old Snape joined him at his side. Both Snapes were sitting stock-still as if carved out of stone while Hermione peeked over the heads of the guests to see ahead. It was quite far away but Harry's father was unmistakable as the all-smiling groom, flanked by the other Marauders. She had her suspicions but now she could safely surmise- it was the day that James and Lilly Potter got married.
Hermione understood why Snape was showing her this particular memory; he showed Harry the one where he discovered Lily dead, to show him the reason for him dedicating his life to Harry and his mom, but he didn't need to justify anything to Hermione. He simply wished to show her the day when he saw Lily at her happiest, and his own joy in watching her happy, even though he was left with nothing. He just wanted to share an inexplicable mixed feeling of joy and sorrow with Hermione.
Young Snape shrunk back further in his seat, avoiding being spotted by anyone, however the groom, best man and groomsmen were busy joking amongst themselves, supposedly to fend off the pre-wedding jitters. But their boisterous laughter died down as the pipe organ sounded, announcing the arrival of the bride. Everyone looked to the door through which Lilly Evans entered filling the room with sunshine.
Hermione gaped at the most beautiful bride she had ever seen and Snape's expression said the same thing. She didn't glance once at his direction or anyone else's though; she had eyes only for her future husband on their special day. She knew she looked gorgeous and got an appreciative nod from James but there wasn't a hint of any vague pride on her face. She marched gracefully forward and joined him at the end of the aisle.
A soft choir carried the ceremony forward and the entire time, both the Snapes maintained a stoic and indifferent expression that mirrored each other. Only Hermione could see them fidgeting where they sat and could almost hear the rush of the storm howling inside them. They were sitting so far away that the 'I do's weren't quite audible but the crack of the heart, was.
As the happy couple walked out arm-in-arm, Snape's heart lay in smithereens somewhere on the floor, trampled on along with the delicate flower petals, under the feet of the throng that followed them out. Only the three of them remained behind- well, in actuality, only the young Snape and Hermione felt she had never seen a more desolate looking man. Unbeknownst to everyone, he let out a sigh that could obliterate the candles of happiness lit in the newlyweds' hearts.
Taking his time, he came out and stood at the end of the line that was waiting to meet the couple; he didn't move forward as the line progressed, just stood watching Lily greet everyone with a smile and a kiss and laughing like she was the happiest person on the planet. Seeing her smile, there was a trace of a smile on his lips too and he tightened his tie collar and ran his hand through his hair, readying himself to meet her; he even took two steps forward but then at the last minute he changed his mind and exited hastily through the back gate. Hermione bit on her lip, watching him go and was reminded of the time he had changed his mind about asking her to a dance in a similar way on the night of the ball.
Just as his figure disappeared, Lily's olive-green eyes turned towards the gate and she continued staring, feeling something there. But then she shook her head and brought her attention back to her husband and the feast that was to follow.
The present Snape willed his younger self to turn back once, to find her looking right back at him, but of course, he knew that he wouldn't and there was nothing that could change the past. If that had been possible, he would have rewritten history.
The scene melted into a picturesque scenery by the ocean. The young Snape was heading down the deserted beach, just walking aimlessly right to the edge of the water. Hermione couldn't tell whether it was the same day or whether any time had passed, because the feeling of a deep loss was still evident in his features. He walked out to where the waves lapped over the land and let the water kiss his feet. There, hidden from the view of the entire world, he bent his head down and cried and cried.
The real Snape was sitting on one of the benches for public use, the ocean wind blowing through his hair, watching his other self cry and wondering what Hermione was going to say. She hadn't spoken this whole time and now she leniently sat beside him, still chewing her lip and deliberating. She looked up at his face with compassion but he could not meet her eyes.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" she finally asked. Her curiosity regarding what he was up to all those times he locked himself away in this room, was finally satiated, but she couldn't even begin to fathom why someone would willingly bring such repeated agony to one's self. She was grateful that he had shown her this but to go through this almost everyday, by himself, was unimaginable.
He had no real answer to her question; he knew it looked like he was desperately clinging on to these last memories of her, to keep their love alive and he didn't know why he decided to show Hermione this in the first place. He had only felt it to be the right thing to do and at the end of it, he didn't feel any regret.
And this came as such a relief; the pain had been searching for an escape and just as sharing one's happiness with someone only increases the joy, sharing the sorrow also helped reduce it.
This outburst pertained to his need to escape the bars of his caged thoughts. Without his own knowledge, she had grown so close, emerging truly as a confidant. Unknowingly, he had started to speak his demons out- ones that were never meant for revelations. Without uttering a word, he confessed all his wrongdoings, his naivety, insecurities, a lost happy moment and yes, his regrets. Through his eyes, they went back to the depths that haunted him. He didn't need to tell but she was aware of every word of err in him. And he sighed: a sigh of relief. He heard the snapping of chains at the back of his mind. And he fell into a comfortable silence with his listener. The waves roared and the gulls cawed and the wind whistled and the silence prolonged.
Leaning back, in retrospection, he figured out the reason for him opening up to her. She never once judged him.
Deep down, he knew, today had made a huge difference, because tonight, he would sleep naked with his secrets.
She, on the other hand, told him a story- a story about two people. Those two people shouldn't have met in these circumstances and who didn't even like each other much when they did, but who found that probably they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. He glanced at her fondly and thought, that he would never feel as intensely connected to the world, to another human being, as he did in this moment.
"I'm gonna sit here and miss her. For some more...a long time more." He looked to her. "Do you have...some time to spare? Do you want to sit here with me?"
Hermione reached over and delicately touched his hand, just gingerly brushing their fingers together. He looked down surprised but he didn't flinch, so she tenderly took his hand, savouring the moment and exuding her warmth by giving it a squeeze. She whispered in assurance.
"I'm not going anywhere."
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But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
- William Shakespeare (Sonnets)
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Love is fragile, she was thinking- but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new love- words, the tenderness learned and treasured up for the next lover.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald (May Day)