Sunday, April 27, 2008
Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 1 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
PROGOLUE
Draco Malfoy wasn't your typical teenage boy; he was what is often described as 'being old before your time', thus meaning he didn't act anything like a teenager; more like an extremely knowledgeble, anything but immature, slightly disturbed man. Draco didn't care about girls, sex, alcohol, parties... he just didn't care; even if his 'friends' did.
As Son of the most loyal servant to the Dark Lord, Draco had other things on his mind; like following in his Father's footsteps. It didn't matter if he wanted to - he had to. It wasn't something he didn't want to do, but it was something he most certainly feared; Lord Voldemort wasn't one to mess with; he knew that all too well, thanks to last summer. Last summer... that was probably what made him grow up so suddenly. After last summer, nothing seemed to matter but keeping the Dark Lord happy. Last summer, Voldemort murdered Draco's Mother - because of a fault of his Father's. It was said to be the only 'suitable punishment' that would ensure Lucius never 'wavered' again. Not that he had wavered, of course, merely hesitated. Is there a difference? If not then there should be. Most certainly.
Besides; Draco couldn't let his mind wander to such trivial things as social status and love - well, l.ust; not any longer. Those things just didn't matter any more, along with... what, life itself? Maybe. Since his Mother's death, Draco been in awe of the Dark Lord more than ever before, in a sick, twisted kind of way. Surely he should have been mortified, his world dissolving... after all, his Mother had just died. But in fact; it only made him smile, it made him stronger, more determined to please the Dark Lord, to make sure that he was a better servant than his Mother; she now embarrassed him, made him cringe whenever mentioned - which was rare, in itself - made him wish he hadn't known her. She had been weak, weaker then his Father... Lucius had let the Dark Lord kill her, he had taken his punishment and dealt with it, moving on swiftly, not a tear shed.
Draco wanted to be like his Father, he wanted his whole world to revolve around something meaningful... and it would; it did. Soon, the Dark Mark would be scorched into his left arm, making him a servant of the greatest Sorcerer to ever live... and that would give him purpose, because what he lacked, if anything, was purpose.
CHAPTER 1
It had been a rough morning. With nothing to do in the final week of the summer break, Draco had roamed around the house and gardens itching for something to occupy his time... and, finding nothing, he had stalled unhappily back to his room, slamming the door with unnessessary force. The only consolation was that soon, so very soon, he would be given a mission, a target, something, anything to keep him sane from boredom. Oh, it must be soon!
Patience.
Draco moved silkily to his bedroom window, and tugged at the curtains to peer out at the sun soaked gardens stretched beneath him. After a moment, he turned, infuriated by the lack of entertainment, to face his room. Dark wood floors were under his feet, and a large bed was backed against one wall - deep green threaded with silver as the coverings. A book shelf of the same color wood as the floors stood on the opposite wall, laden with heavy and extremely dusty literature and texts, none of which had ever been opened. This stood not two metres from a doorway which lead to an onsuite bathroom - oh, the Malfoy's wanted for nothing in their home; they had unending wealth.
A knock a the door broke Draco's gaze, which had been lingering thoughtfully on the lamps.
'Yes?' He called sharply, irritated already without a 'talk' from his Father, or a chore from a House-elf. The door swung open, and it toddled a small female elf, ears flapping, eyes wide as golf ***** - fear etched into them. A small cloth was wrapped scruffily around her waist and chest. The elf swallowed hard, before beginning in a shaking voice.
'Please forgive Polly for disturbing you, Master, but Master Lucius asked me to remind you that you need to pack your trunk for your return to Hogwarts, Master Draco.' Polly the House-elf trembled as she pointed to Draco's closed, yet empty trunk, underneath his bed.
'Yes I'm quite capable; I haven't forgotten. Get out.' Draco spat nastily, and Polly turned and scuttled away, tugging the door shut behind her, clearly desperate to leave Draco's presence. 'Stupid elf...' Draco muttered, shaking his head and turning back to his window once more. His eyes were drawn to a stone fountain directly ahead of his room, on which the sun beamed, making the water twinkle in that peculiar way it often does. Beyond the fountain was a long gravel driveway - not that they had that stupid muggle invention called a 'car'; of course not. It was merely for show, as was almost everything the second you approached the tall and extremely handsome gates that stood daringly at the entrance to the Manor.
'Draco!' A voice sounded from quite a distance, and Draco once again turned his back to the window. Instead of moving to find the voice, through the halls of the house, Draco merely called back.
'What?'
'Come here immediately.' The voice, that Draco now recognized as his Father's - well, a House-elf wouldn't be as bold, or stupid, to call him like this - shouted back, and Draco sighed before heading out of his room and skulking through the hallway, making his path to the Entrance Hall. He soon reached the top of the marble staircase, which landed him on the right height of the diamond chandelier that hovered above the equally dazzling hall beneath.
'Ahh, Draco. Come here.' Lucius Malfoy, his long, white blond hair stretched down his back, turned to his Son, and beckoned him with a hand as he stepped to one side, revealing a girl staring avidly up at the sparkling light. Draco quickened his pace, intrigued as to why they had a guest. He soon reached the bottom of the staircase, and he approached his Father and the girl slowly.
'We have company.' Lucius gave his Son a startlingly menecing look - a threatening look.
'I can see that.' Draco stepped to the side of his Father to stare at the girl closely. Her eyes were still attatched the the chandelier many feet above, so Draco didn't feel embarrassed to eye her over quickly - not in that way, but in the way to see what she was like. The girl had tumbling loose curls of dirty blonde hair that reached just past her shoulders, framing her jawline in an odd way. Draco's eyes lowered... the Girl wore a fitted black shirt, and dark denim jeans, and was carrying a deep pink bag in the crook of her arm, her hands clasped together in front of her. There was a large blue suitcase behind her, waiting to be taken away.
It was clear to see from the outfit that the girl wasn't skinny - neither was she plump; she was hourglass shaped, a thin waist, larger bust and hips, and... the girl suddenly lowered her face and glared at Draco. Aware that he was being watched, he snapped his own eyes to hers, and stared right at her for a moment... she had the most unusual eyes he had ever seen on a girl. Her pupil was rimmed with a dark purple, which faded seemingly seamlessly to a dark hazel at the edges - her gaze seemed to shimmer as the studied him equally as interested, and Draco finally pulled his hand to hold it in front of her.
'Draco Malfoy.' He felt he should make an effort, so he offered a small smirk. The girl didn't look impressed.
'Who is this boy?' She asked, glaring at Draco, but clearly questioning his Father. Draco's hand dropped back to his side and he narrowed his eyes at the girl.
'This is my Son, remember I said he would be here?' Lucius reminded, and the girl frowned.
'Hmm.' Was all that she replied. 'Do I have my own room?'
'Of course; we have several for you to choose from.' Lucius nodded to Draco, who remained still. 'Draco. Show the young Lady to the rooms, let her choose which she likes.'
'I do not know this man. I would rather not be left alone with him.' The girl sighed disdainfully, and Draco eyed her unhappily now - he wasn't used to girls speaking to him like this.
'What's your name?' He asked suddenly, the question had been burning on his lips for several long moments.
'Clea Harvey.' She reached and pulled her hair back from her face with one hand. Draco observed her for a brief moment, before nodding.
'Well, you know my name, I know yours, now we know each other. I'll show you to the spare rooms.' Draco stood back to one side and motioned for her to walk ahead of him, which she did, heading for the marble staircase, not saying another word in the slightly posh accent she held.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 2 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
CHAPTER 2
'Where are your parents?' Clea raised a shaped eyebrow at the question.
'Not here. That's all you need to know, yes?' She didn't look at Draco as she replied, but peered back over her shoulder down the corridor, turning back when Draco stopped outside of the door next to his bedroom.
'Why do you have muggle belongings?' Draco questioned, leaning and pushing the door open, light flooding the hallway from the newly revealed room.
'It's only a suitcase.' As Clea said this and stepped into the room, Polly yhe house-elf appeared clutching the case.
'I brought your things, Madam Harvey.' Polly placed the suitcase at Clea's feet, and then appapared away with a crack.
'This room will suffice.' Clea began walking, first to the window, which she pushed open as wide as they would go, causing the door behind Draco slam shut. Clea jumped and turned, her wand in her hand without so much as a noticible movement. Draco eyed her curiously, and when she noticed him standing quite still, no threatening stance, she slowly lowered her wand, but kept it in her hand none the less. The left the window as it was, and moved to trace her fingers over the bed. The room was similar to Draco's, the same wooden flooring provided surface, and the same unusual lamps hung, unlit, on the walls. The bedspread of the bed was a deep purple however, and the walls were a pale cream. Clea placed her wand away in her bag, and moved now to the second door in the room, which lead to her private bathroom.
'You have everything you need?' Draco enquired politely. Clea turned to gaze at him with her startling eyes.
'Yes, thankyou.' Draco noticed the tone of dissmissal in her voice that he had heard so many times from his Father - and also from himself, when addressing the house-elves. Still, he didn't move. Clea carried on watching him for a moment, before turning her back on him and walking to lean out of the window once more. Draco approached her and stepped to her side, also staring out of the window at the pouring sunshine. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, and noticed her own eyes were closed against the bright light. Almost instantly after Draco had flicked his gaze to her though, her eyes snapped open, and she she turned her whole body to face him, placing a hand on her hip and a puzzled expression over her plain, but pretty face.
'Why are you here?' Draco asked, still leaning out of the window, but watching Clea all of the time, noticing the way the breeze was whipping out her hair.
'It's safe here; so I've been told.' Was all she replied, but Draco wasn't happy with this vague answer. He opened his mouth to speak again, when Clea walked away from him abruptly, sitting down on the bed and smoothing her hands over the covers. Draco turned his back to the sunlight so he could still talk to her without feeling too rude - she was a guest afterall; and he liked to give good first impressions, believe it or not.
'And why do you need safety?' Draco probed, and Clea didn't look up from the bed.
'Who doesn't need safety, Draco?' It was the first time she had spoken his name, and it made his gaze bore into her turned away eyes - but no matter how much he willed her to, she wouldn't look up to him.
'But it's not like we know you. I mean, who are you? Are you-'
'Is this enough to satisfy your curiosity?' Clea stood and pulled up the sleeve of her top, showing the dark mark emblazened painfully on her left arm. Draco studied it from a distance for a moment, admitting to himself he was a little stunned.
'How old are you?'
'Your age.'
'Who are your parents?'
'You don't know them.'
'Which school do you attend?'
'Hogwarts, from next week.' Clea then tugged her sleeve back over her arm and crossed her arms over her chest. 'Draco, I need to unpack. Could I please be alone for a while?' She had obviously decided enough was enough, and moved to the door, pulling it open against the wind and standing just inside it, holding it open for Draco to leave. He began walking forwards.
'Yes, of course. Just say if there's anything you need.' Draco exited the room, and Clea stood back from the door, letting it slam shut once more. Draco walked a short distance down the corridor to his own room, and leaned back against the door, puzzled by this stranger, and why no answers had been given to his questions - no reasonable answers, anyway. Well, fine. He would have to ask his Father.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 3 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
CHAPTER 3
'Yes?' He asked quietly, and Draco walked forwards, closing the door behind himself.
'Who is she?' Draco questioned, observing the obviously alcoholic drink in his Father's hand.
'You already know that: Her name is Clea Harvey-'
'No. Who is she? Where is she from? Why is she here? What school did she go to? Who are her parents?' Draco asked poitnedly, frowning at his Father - why was he being kept in the dark here?
'Those things are irrelevant. Does she have everything she needs? Go and-'
'I'm not going anywhere until you tell me exactly-'
'Excuse me?' Lucius' tone had dropped several degrees and he was now glaring at his son, his glass gripped with both hands. 'You dare speak to me like that? You're own Father? You were not brought up behave like that; you will do as asked and you will do so immediately. Leave. This. Room.' Draco returned his Father's glare, but knew better than to backtalk anymore, so instead he turned on his heel and took off out of the room, being especially careful to slam the door shut as forcefully as possible on his way out. He walked straight ahead in the empty corridor, and then turned to glance back over his shoulder, muttering under his breath as he did so. Turning back, he gasped and stopped dead. Where there had been nothing before, Clea now stood perfectly still, her head tilted to one side, her hair blowing gently in a none-existant breeze. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, and she had a strangely sad smile on her face.
'I'm assuming the arguments are over me?' She asked smoothly, her expression not changing. Draco hesitated.
'We weren't arguing. I was just-'
'It's the same everywhere.' Clea's smile faded from her face after she gave a quiet laugh.
'What do you mean?' Draco frowned, puzzled.
'I mean where ever I go I cause arguments. No wonder...' She trailed away, and then plastered a smile back on her face. 'Sorry if I startled you; I didn't mean to. I just heard raised voices and thought I would come and see what was happening. Care to show me the gardens?'
It had taken Draco but utter surprise; the abrupt change of subject, but he just stared at her for a moment, before nodding and walking towards her. He wondered what she had been about to say, the words playing over and over in his mind. Where ever I go I cause arguments... How many places had she been to? Two, three, four? And where were her parents? No wonder... No wonder what? What had been no wonder? Everything about this girl confused him, not to mention the fact that she seemed to have a sort of... other wordly air about her; and no, he didn't mean in looks, he meant in... spirit, almost. The way she looked perfectly serene, and perfectly calm. Most people - most guests, would be mortified if they thought they were causing disruptions amongst their host family... but Clea had just smiled, and changed the subject. And yes, Draco had noticed it; her hair whipping slowly over her shoulders, even though there was no breeze in the corridor. What was it about this girl that made her seem so... out of this world? There was something different about her, something special, something that hinted at absolute power, power greater than any ever discovered... and then she would smile. It made her look plain again.
Clea turned when Draco reached her and began walking with him, unsure of the way so letting him walk slightly ahead. Draco pulled his mind from it's buzzing thoughts and turned to briefly smile at Clea, who returned the gesture, and caught up with him so as she walked level. She swivelled her eyes about the hallway they were walking down, taking in every aspect.
'You have a very beautiful home, Draco.' Clea complimented; and again, the use of his name made his gaze jump to hers, and he slowed but didn't stop walking.
'Thankyou. What about your home? What's it like?' Draco tried, and a sly smile poured onto Clea's face.
'A smart try. But I've never really had a home.' Her answer stunned Draco, and he stared at her as they walked.
'Never had a... what do you mean?' He gaped, and Clea laughed a tinkling sound.
'I mean I've never been in one place long enough to really call it home.' She replied patiently. 'What is... Hogwarts like?' Draco began walking at a normal speed again, and Clea quickened her pace to keep up.
'It's okay. It's a huge castle, and the students are divided into four houses: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor.' Draco spat the word 'Gryffindor' as if he had been forced to say it. Clea noticed this and raised an eyebrow pointedly, but Draco didn't see it. 'Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster - a crazy idiot who'll soon be out of a job, I expect. Harry Potter-'
'Attends Hogwarts?' Clea gasped, instantly intrigued. Draco turned to her with a frown.
'Unfortunately, yes. Gryffindor, seventh year, like us. He has a Mudblood friend called Hermione Granger, and then a Blood Traitor: Ron Weasel - I mean Weasley. Stay away from them; it's the best advice I can give you. They're attention seeking lunatics who think they're all that; well, maybe Potter is, but the other two; they just latch on for the ride. Anyway-'
'Which house do you expect I'll be in?' Clea interrupted; yet it still seemed polite. Draco considered this, hoping she would be in Slytherin with himself.
'Which house were your parents in?' He asked, gazing over at her.
'I'm not sure.' She lied; it was one of the few things she knew about her Father, at least.
'Well it depends. I expect Slytherin... simply because you have... well, the Dark Mark, and they're not going to put you in Gryffindor with that, are they? I wouldn't think so, anyway. And Hufflepuff is for... losers, basically. Ravenclaw... are you particularly clever? What grades do you achieve?' Draco asked as he pulled open the main front door and stepped to the side to let Clea out into the warm sunshine.
'Not that great: normally E's.' She replied with a shrug.
'Then I expect you'll be a Slytherin, like me. But apparently you get to choose if you're not all that sure: I didn't, because... well, it's in my blood to be a Slytherin. But I hear Potter got a choice; Slytherin or Gryffindor. More fool him he picked Gryffindor.' Draco shrugged, as he and Clea began walking down the gravel stretch that lead to the water fountain.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 4 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
CHAPTER 4
'Yes?' Clea's tingling voice responded from inside.
'My Father sent me to ask if you have your things packed for today's journey. Do you?' Draco found it a little irritating talking through a door, but a second later, Clea appeared with a smile, her hair in two plaits that hung to her shoulders, a muggle summers dress in the color of purple hugging her figure.
'Yes, I think so. Well, I have everything that I brought with me packed up.' Clea noticed Draco's eyes wandering over her, and she cleared her throat. Draco was jolted back to standing in front of her - not that he'd been anywhere else really.
'That's muggle clothing...' He observed out loud, and Clea raised her eyebrows.
'Indeed it is... is that a problem?' She questioned, her fingers now tugging at the above the knee hem of her dress. Draco hesitated.
'Shouldn't you be wearing... well, wizards robes?'
'But I'm not going anywhere as formal as to require them.' Clea laughed, and then turned and retreated back into her bright room, leaving the door open as an invitation for Draco to follow. He did so almost reluctantly.
'Are you a pureblood?' He suddenly asked, halting in his tracks. Clea turned back to face him, a smile playing on her lips.
'Ahhh...' She paused. 'If I wasn't... now, that would be a problem, yes?'
'It could cause... problems. But it was a stupid question; of course you're pureblood. My Father would never have let you into our-' Draco stopped himself sharply, catching himself before he finished the sentance. Clea had now crossed her arms over her chest, and she looked unimpressed to say the least.
'You know, Draco, perhaps if you looked further than blood, you would find...' She trailed away, and Draco gazed at her expectantly. She gave a small laugh, and shook her head briefly, before moving over to her bed and sitting on the egde, pulling a scroll of parchment from beneath one of her pillows, and unfolding it. She gesutred for Draco to come and sit next to her, which he did, after closing the door.
'What is it?' Draco asked, slowly sitting down next to Clea.
'Nothing exciting.' Clea replied with a shrug, handing the parchment to Draco. 'A letter from Professor Dumbledore, including a list of all things needed for the forthcoming school year.' Clea leaned over, close to Draco, to re-read the letter over his shoulder. Her hair brushed against his cheek, and he gave a slight shiver. Clea reached forwards and tugged her hair back over her shoulder, whispering a smooth apology, and then notioning for him to carry on reading.
'Do I have everything I need?' Clea questioned nervously, as Draco turned to look at her, and she moved herself back from him quickly, only just noticing their close proximity.
'Have you been to Diagon Alley? I mean, I know you haven't whilst being here, but have-'
'No.' Clea interrupted carefully, shaking her head again, her curls of blonde hair sneaking back over her shoulders from where she had just removed them.
'Well then we should take a trip - unless you already-'
'I don't have a cauldron. Or a wand-'
'You don't have a wand?' Draco gasped, restraining himself from jumping from the bed - what kind of witch didn't have a wand?
'I did!' Clea protested quickly. 'It... it got broken. So, I guess I'll need a new one. Okay I know I don't have everything I need, so... what I really wanted to know was: Will you help me find everything?'
Draco visably relaxed. He was intrigued as to how Clea's wand had been broken, but he decided not to ask; the week of Clea's presence had told him that she rarely answered any questions to do with her past or her family, and Draco had suspicions this involved both.
'Of course. But we'd better get going now, before it gets too late.'
'Welcome to Diagon Alley.' Draco grinned as he gestured with both arms to the walls of shops stretched ahead of them, gushing with people making their way to and from the other end of the street, at which proudly stood the magnificent white washed building that was Gringotts Bank. Clea was frowning though, and she turned to look back over her shoulder at a plain brick wall.
'I still don't understand how we got in.' She mumbled, shaking her head. Draco restrained a laugh.
'It doesn't matter; I'll show you another time. Do you have much money with you?' Draco asked, as he began guiding himself and Clea through the many chatting people, who were creating a constant buzz of noise as they walked.
'Umm... well no. I need to go to-'
'Gringotts. Well we'd best head there first.' Draco took Clea's hand in his own, even after noticing how out of place she looked in her muggle dress, and walked slightly ahead of her through the crowds, making his way to Gringotts. A few moments later, they reached the stone steps leading up to the open doors, which witches and wizards were pouring in and out of. Clea stopped and stared up at the building, before realizing Draco's hand still enclosed hers. She pulled her fingers free of his slowly, an air of apology surrounding the gesture. She took off up the steps in such a hurry though that Draco had to run after her, gaining his place back at her side only once they were inside of the huge bank.
'Wow...' Clea whispered, so as only she and Draco could hear. 'Umm... where do I go?'
'Over here.' Draco replied, guiding her - this time without touching her - the an empty desk, behind which sat one of the ugliest Goblin's Draco had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Clea stared, panicking, from Draco to the Goblin, and back again. Her eyes flickered quickly to all of the other desks, and on noticing Goblin's were serving all magical folk, she relaxed a little. Amused at her expression of shock, Draco wondered what she had thought of at that moment... the Bank was being held hostage by that single Goblin? Poor Clea - it seemed she had a lot to learn, and whom better to teach her than Draco Malfoy?
'Yes?' The Goblin suddenly interrupted Draco's thoughts, and Clea was now rummaging in a navy blue bag that was slung over her shoulder.
'One moment please...' She smiled politely, and Draco now raised his eyebrows. The Goblin looked startled too - it was rare for Witches and Wizards to show manners to any magical beings belows themselves - particularly Goblin's and House-elves. Clea suddenly pulled back from her bag, looking triumphant, and holding a small golden key on a chain. She placed it onto the desk with a clink, and placed the same patient smile on her lips as the Goblin picked up the key and twirled it in his... claws.
'What name and withdrawal amount?' The Goblin asked, his tone now a little softer than his greeting.
'Clea Harvey.' With a quick glance to Draco and a shrug, she carried on. 'Amount... amount... how much do I need, Draco?' Draco tried to remember all items on the lists, estimated a price and then doubled it.
'Two hundred galleons.' He suggested, and Clea nodded, turning back to the Goblin.
'Clea Harvey, two hundred galleons, please.' The Goblin turned and stalked away, it's pointy chin held high in the air. Draco leaned onto the desk now the Goblin was gone, and turned to observe the other people in the the building.
'How long do you think the shopping will take?' Clea asked quietly, and Draco thought.
'Depends how fussy you are.' He replied with a grin.
'Oh, I hate shopping. Give me whatever complies with safety regulations, and I'll take it.' Clea joked, but Draco stared at her with a smile.
'You hate shopping?'
'Absolutely! What an awful waste of time!' Clea laughed cheefully, but now the Goblin was back, looking tiresome.
'We have no account in the name of
'Well go and look again.' Draco snapped quickly - he had no time for Goblins... or any other creature for that matter.
'No. Perhaps it's in my... other name.' Clea had leaned forwards and whispered this to the Goblin, but Draco had still heard, and was now completely confused.
'Other name, Miss?' The Goblin questioned with a suspicious smirk.
'Yes... it's...' The name that Clea whispered wasn't caught by Draco, but the Goblin nodded and turned, stalking away once again. There was barely time for Draco to turn to Clea before the Goblin came back, this time accompanied by another Goblin, who looked superior in comparison. This Goblin wore gold rimmed glasses, and looked like he was attempting to balance some slippery object on the tip of his sharp nose.
'I have been informed you wish to wishdraw under the name of...' Clea leaned forwards, and signalled for him to keep his voice down, which, with a nod he did. The name had again already been uttered before Draco could lean in to catch it, and Clea nodded.
'That's correct.'
'Follow me, please,
'Where is he taking her?' Draco asked the remaining Goblin, his eyes still staring at the corner that Clea had dissapeared from.
'To make her withdrawal, Sir. Now if you don't mind, there are other customers.' The Goblin coughed pointedly, and Draco stepped to one side, dtermined to stay at the point until Clea returned.
Clea returned fifteen minutes later, carrying a black bag that jingled with galleons. She smiled at Draco - but looked unhappy compared to half an hour ago. She placed the bag into the one she had across her shoulder and took the key on the chain back from the Goblin, this time fistening it securely around her neck, rather than placing it in her bag with everything else.
'Take care, Miss...
'Why did you have to go with them? They banned anyone going into the vaults since the attempted theft last summer. You shouldn't have been allowed to go-'
'It's a 'special case'. I'd rather not disscuss it, sorry Draco. Anyway, it seems there's still shopping to be getting on with... I want an animal! It said in the letter you could have a rat, cat, owl, toad... or ferret!' Clea grinned, linking her arm through Draco's to hurry up his pace of walking. He winced at the word 'ferret', but when Clea gave him a puzzled glance he shook his head.
'And that's something I'd rather not talk about. Don't get a ferret, please, please don't ge a ferret.' Draco begged, staring at Clea desperately. 'You've no idea of the jokes there'd be if you're in Slytherin and friends with m-
'I don't really like ferrets anyway.' Clea laughed, putting Draco's mind at rest instantly. 'I was thinking of a cat, actually. I adore cats.'
'I can live with that.' Draco nodded, as Clea rolled her eyes playfully, and they began walking in the general direction of the pet store.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 5 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
CHAPTER 5
'Well, we can forget that. You don't need a wand, you've already got one.' Draco smiled and moved onto the next thing, but Clea stopped him before he had a chance.
'Actually; I do need a wand. A new one. I... I don't want to keep this one. It's not mine anyway, and... well I just don't want it. I only kept it this long for... safety reasons.' Clea surprised Draco by saying awkwardly, and he gazed at her for a moment, before looking away. He had learned by now not to ask too many questions; if she wanted to tell him, she would, but in her own time.
'Okay. We'll go to Ollivander's, the wandmakers first then.' Draco turned and guided Clea through the crowds with difficulty, arriving five minutes later at Ollivander's. Opening the door to an empty and dimly lit shop, a bell tinkled over head, making Clea jump slightly. Draco wondered silently why she seemed to nervous about anything, but once again, refrained from asking. The two approached the desk, and Clea pulled out the wand she currently possessed and placed it on the bench in front of her quietly, as Ollivander suddenly sprang from behind the desk, making Clea curse loudly and jump back.
'Sorry.' She quickly murmured, when Ollivander raised his grey eyebrows curiously. 'You startled me.' Ollivander's kind eyes smiled back at her, and then they narrowed slightly as they flickered from Clea to Draco, and back again.
'I apologize.' Ollivander's gentle smile had returned, and he turned to gaze down at the wand Clea had placed on the bench. 'You are returning a wand?' He asked; now it was his turn to be startled. Cles swallowed.
'Not exactly, Sir. This wand isn't mine; it's... someone elses. I was given it when mine was... misplaced. So I don't really know what to do with this one anymore, because I don't want it. I need a new one, so I thought I might as well bring this one to you.' Clea explained carefully, and Ollivander's expression grew more and more puzzled.
'Have you tried magic with this wand?'
'Yes, Sir.' Clea nodded, and Draco began wandering around the shop, letting his fingers graze over crystalballs and golden necklaces. He hadn't ever noticed Ollivander's sold this sort of stuff as well.
'And what were the consequences?'
'It worked fine, but I would prefer to find myself a new wand, a one that's truly mine.' Clea replied smoothly, and Ollivander nodded, picking up Clea's discarded wand gently. He turned it over and over in his fingers, his puzzled expression turning to suspicion.
'To whom did this wand previously belong, Young Lady?' Ollivander asked sharply, and Clea turned to glance at Draco, who had stopped browsing now and had returned to Clea's side. He was glaring at Ollivander.
'Is that any of your business?' Draco asked pointedly, and Ollivander snapped his gaze to Draco's.
'Indeed it is Sir, when this wand has clearly performed very dark magic.'
'Look, I just want a new wand, Sir. Please, you can do whatever you wish with that one - but I don't want it. I don't want it. I'd appriciate it if you'd help me find a new one.' Clea snapped slightly, but soon returned to her usual mild manner, an apology floating in her new softened tone. 'Please, Sir.' Ollivander stared at her for a moment, before nodding and placing the old wand back on the bench.
'Your name, Miss?'
'Clea Harvey.'
'Age? You are clearly not a first year.'
'Seventh Year. Seventeen.' Clea answered quietly, and Ollivander nodded.
'I don't recognize you though. Who are your family? Ahh, it sometimes helps when choosing a new -'
'It won't help this time.' Clea assured him sharply, and Ollivander, after a moments hesitation, gave a small bow, and then retreated down one of the many highly stacked isles, his fingers tracing over box after box. He kept glancing back at Clea, and then shaking his head and muttering things, before carrying on searching. Clea placed her hands on the bench in front of her, and Draco noticed they were shaking as she did so.
'Hey...' He reached and placed a hand on top of hers. 'What's wrong?' He asked, smilign gently at her. She shook her head, and he glanced tears in her eyes.
'Nothing. I just hate all of these questions. I guess it'll be worse when I get to Hogwarts. Everyone will want to know who I am, where I came from, who my parents are...' A single tear slipped from Clea's right eye, and she pulled her hands free of Draco's to wipe it away. He stared at her.
'Why does it matter? You don't have to answer anybody; your past has nothing to do with anyone but yourself.' Draco soothed, and Clea turned to look at him gratefully.
'I hope I'm in your house at Hogwarts.' She laughed tearfully, sniffing. Draco shrugged.
'Doesn't really matter if you're not, I suppose. But I expect you will be.'
'I want to be though; you're the only friend I have.' Clea whispered, locking her eyes with Draco's. A single second slipped past where they held eye contact, before Ollivander came bustling back in, holding out a box eagerly.
'Oh that was awful... that poor man's shop was almost destroyed when we left. I never realized choosing a wand could be so... tricky.' Clea nibbled her lip, thinking back to the damage her attempted magic with several wands had done to Ollivander's shop.
'He'll repare the rest in no time, don't worry about it. It was only the desk. And shelves. And the windows... and the door was a bit... none existant...' Draco murmured, before laughing and shaking his head as Clea walked by his side. They had finished almost all of her shopping now, apart from getting an animal, but Clea had been fretting over hoe badly things had gone at Ollivander's. But at least now she had her own wand; a one which she clearly felt more comfortable with.
'Oh dear... maybe I should send him some galleons to help repare the damage?' Clea suggested, which only made Draco laugh more.
'I wouldn't. He's a wizard, remember? Everything'll be fixed already, without so much as a knut spent.'
'Oh... yes, of course.' Clea nodded, laughing a little awkwardly now too. 'Anyway... I still need an animal. I've decided I definitely want a cat.' Clea stopped where she was and peered over the top of people's heads as she stood on tiptoe. 'Which way is it?' She questioned, and Draco slipped his hand into hers again and lead her away through the people, arriving at the magical pet store moments later.
'Let's go then, you can help me choose.' Clea smiled brightly, taking the lead for once and tugging Draco by the hand into the store, her eyes flickering around the shelves and cages of many animals, a lot that she had never seen before, and wouldn't have a clue where to start naming them. Clea approached the desk; no one was queing, although the shop was quite busy with people browsing.
'Excuse me. Do you have any... well, normal cats?' Clea asked with a polite nod at the woman who turned to serve them.
'Normal cats? Well we got some where their eyes change color? You want one o' those?' The woman asked, and Clea frowned.
'Umm... no, not really. Anything else?'
'Some where they change how they look... tabby one minute, black and white the next. Want one?' The woman asked, leaning on the desk and raising her eyebrows.
'No, thanks. Any... normal cats? Just, a cat? That doesn't change and doesn't do anything other than be a normal cat?' Clea stressed the 'normal' part, as the sales assistant clearly wasn't understanding.
'Normals cats... why'd you want one normal? We got ones that clean up. We got ones that attack enemies. We got ones that-'
'She just wants a cat. No special powers.' Draco sighed; he was getting bored with the conversation. 'I'm sure you have plenty.' Draco held out his hand. 'Draco Malfoy.' The woman's eyes widened quickly, and she opened and closed her mouth several times, before shaking his hand slowly.
'Yes Mr Malfoy, right away.' She turned and hurried off, and Draco and Clea noticed her accent had taken a certain higher class quality after being introduced to Draco. Clea frowned as the woman walked away, long grey hair hanging down her back.
'How strange.' Clea observed, turning to Draco. 'She only-'
'Black or white? Black and white? Tabby? Tortoise shell? Ginger? We got a pink one that had an accident with muggle hair dye. And one with bright red eyes, no one's even asked to look at that one yet...' The woman sounded genuinely puzzled as she called this out, and Clea raised her eyebrows, turning back to where the woman had dissapeared from.
'Umm... tabby, please.' Clea shrugged, and the woman returned, carrying the cat by the scruff of the neck. Clea winced at the cat's painful 'meow's and took satisfaction in taking the cat from the woman's arms. It instantly stopped the crying, and even settled down with Clea in a few moments.
'You want that one, Mr Malfoy?' The woman asked, now under the impression she was serving Draco. Draco turned to Clea, who nodded.
'Yes, please. How much is it?'
'
'Fine, ten galleons.' He reached into his pocked.
'Oh no...' Clea said instantly. 'Hold on one moment and I'll get my purse-'
'It's fine, this can be my welcome gift for you.' Draco handed over the galleons before Clea could protest anymore, and he reached and turned the cat gently towards him, noticing it was purring already. 'What will you call it?'
'Is it a he, or she?' Clea quickly asked the assistant.
'She.'
'Hmm. I don't know. What should I call her?' Clea asked, kissing the cat gently on the top of the head. The cat turned to nudge it's head against Clea's chin fondly.
'No idea.' Draco shrugged. 'Come on, let's go, we can decide later.' Draco turned to get the door to hold it open for Clea, and found himself face to face with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 6 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
CHAPTER 6
'Hi. I'm Clea.' She tried to manouver the cat so as she could hold out her hand to greet the Trio properly, but the cat 'miow'ed at not having her full attention, so she halted in that process, and instead gave a nervous smile. The attention of Harry and Ron was now definitely on Clea, and Hermione was studying her with an instant dislike - which wasn't like her at all. Harry stepped towards her, and Draco stepped slightly in front of Clea now, strangely protective.
'I'm-'
'Harry Potter!' Clea gasped, her eyes fixing on Harry's scar half hidden by his messy black hair. Harry halted.
'Yeah, that's me.' He said, a dissapointment almost evident in his voice. Ron stepped forwards, and Clea turned her attention to him.
'Ron Weasley.' She said, before Ron got a chance to so much open his mouth.
'Blimey... it's not often people know who I am, too...' Ron muttered, staring wide eyed at Clea. Clea now turned to Hermione, who was standing with an unimpressed expression on her face, and her arms folded tight over her chest.
'And you must be Hermione Granger.' Clea nodded to her with a half smile, and Hermione didn't return the gesture, but instead looked to Harry and Ron.
'Are we leaving?' Hermione asked in a icy tone, and Clea tilted her head to one side to observe Hermione... why was she at such an instant dislike? What made her immediately tetchy?
'Not yet.' Harry replied smoothly, not even looking to Hermione, but keeping his eyes on Clea. 'I haven't seen you at Hogwarts before.'
'No. I just arrived a couple of weeks ago - I'll be starting seventh year with you all. Draco's been good enough to show me around, and help me get everything that I need sorted out-'
''Malfoy' and 'good' don't work well together.' Hermione snarled, now stepping forwards in between Harry and Ron, so she was directly in front of Clea.
'I didn't say 'Malfoy' though, I said 'Draco'. Perhaps you only know 'Malfoy', in which case, it's a shame.' Clea was now finding herself returning Hermione's dislike; who did this bushy haired girl think she was? So she was friends with the amazing Harry Potter, that didn't give her the right to be such a-
'Malfoy and good don't work together - be that Draco, Lucius, Narcissa... it's the way it is.' Hermione shrugged and turned her cold gaze to Draco. 'Isn't that right, Malfoy?'
'You seem to presume you know all and everything, tell me, have you ever had a conversation with any Malfoy?' Clea asked, holding up a ahdn to halt Draco's reaction. Clea waited whilst Hermione glared at her.
'Plenty. And in each and every-'
'I mean a real conversation, Hermione, not just a name throwing session or curse casting moments. So?' Clea watched as Hermioen blinked several times.
'For some people, it isn't necessary to converse with them to know that they are... wrong.' Hermione flicked her vision to Draco whilst she said 'wrong' before turning it smoothly back to Clea.
'There's that presumtion again. Clearly you're good with books Hermione, but from what I've seen you're not so good with people. If you'll excuse us, we need to be getting home.' Clea linked one arm through Draco's and walked swiftly between the Trio, slipping out of the still open door and into the bright, fresh air of Diagon Alley once more, cradeling the cat in her free arm.
'Handled well?' Clea asked nervously, pulling her other arm free of Draco's and holding her animal properly again.
'Handled very well.' Draco nodded, impressed. 'Not only did you insult her, you did so as she'll think about it now and get angry later - I've never mastered that, I always just ger her angry immediately.' Draco puzzled over this for a moment, before Clea's tinkling laugh brought him back to the present.
'Mmm well I'll help you out with it. I didn't like that girl at all - she was-'
'A Mudblood.' Draco said instantly, and Clea raised her eyebrows.
'I was thinking more along the lines of... snobbish.'
'She has nothing to be snobbish about.' Draco snarled, and Clea didn't reply for a moment.
'The other two seemed okay.'
'They're not. Like I said when you first got here; you should stay away from them, it's the only guarentee that they won't suck you into their pathetic little world.' There was a deep silence between them, invaded by the chattering people in Diagon Alley. Clea took a deep breath, reflecting over the persons she had just met and conversed with, before sighing, and saying:
'We should really be getting back to the Manor.'
Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 1 - 'FIRST IMPRESSIONS'
PROLOGUE
Hermia Dumbledore was his first love, his only love--Lily Evans would never come even close to Hermia Dumbledore. After Hermia's death Severus Snape has vowed to never love again but when the Marriage Law comes into place, Severus has to marry his former student and a woman who reminds him so much of Hermia. Hermione Granger isn't too pleased to marry her former Professor but over time grows to respect him until one mistake puts fate into place and Severus begins to realize that after 21 years he has to move on but is it too late, after all Hermione Granger was dead.
CHAPTER 1
The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth
Two Years Later
November 9, 2002
The creak of a door made Severus look up from his place on the bed, reading a potions' journal. His pajama clad wife entered the room and turned away from him, walking to a closet, where she began to rifle through robes.
"What were you doing in there, you've been in there for--" he consulted the muggle clock next him "--an hour. It doesn't take you that long to shower."
Hermione turned to look at him. "I have a stomach flu." she told him. "I had the urge to empty my stomach and then I took a bath."
He frowned and then got out of bed, walking towards her. He placed his hands on her arms and ran his hands over them. "I'm sorry, are you alright, now? Should I get you a potion?"
She shook her head. "I'll drink some tea and later a potion if I'm still unsettled." she told him.
Severus nodded before he walked to the bathroom to take his shower.
Hermione in their bedroom sighed in relief. She didn't know how she would tell him. It wasn't that she was scared of him, that wasn't it at all but just that she didn't know what his reaction would be. He knew it needed to happen eventually, that had been the reason behind the law in the first place but, for some reason, she felt like he would take it bad. She finally picked out her robes for the day and pulled them on, heading to her vanity, as she did she couldn't help but look down at her flat stomach. What would it be like in the months to come? She smiled slightly to herself before sitting down and running a brush through her messy hair. She had just about finished getting all the tangles out when the bathroom door opened and Severus walked back into the room, fully dressed in his long black robes.
"Breakfast?" he asked.
"I'd rather not be around food." Hermione said. "See you later."
He nodded and walked out of their room to the small sitting room and then out to the cold dungeons. He walked briskly, his cloak billowing behind him, while he thought about his wife. Two years married with Hermione had done nothing to change him, unlike what Minerva had proposed. Hermione wasn't Hermia; no one would ever replace her, even if Hermione was much like Hermia. How many times had he seen her do things that reminded him so much of Hermia? Their names even sounded alike, for that matter and they even looked somewhat alike, if he admitted the truth to himself, they could have passed for one another if only for the subtle and simple differences between them.
He entered the great hall through the teacher's entrance and took his place in the middle of the table, looking around at the sleepy students.
Hermione made her way into her classroom directly from her rooms. It was there that she called Dobby to bring her some tea to settle her stomach. She then took her seat at her desk and pulled a pile of essays towards her. She hated grading essays, especially those from the younger years, which were messier and less well research save for a few that usually came from the more studious bunch. She sighed as she began to read the first essay, shaking her head as to how everything mentioned in the essay seemed to be somehow wrong.
She had gotten through five essays before her first class had filed in. The Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years all looked at her with sleepy, bored gazes.
"Continue working on your potions from yesterday." Hermione told them. "Instructions are on the board, if you have any questions just ask me."
She watched them levitate their cauldrons and continue with their potions, hoping that no mistakes would happen. After finishing another essay she began to walk around them, looking at their potions. Some of them had it right but most of them had the wrong shade of blue, some going as far as to having a purple or pink color.
The rest of the day went on as normal. No accidents happened, a surprise to Hermione seeing as at least one mishap seemed to happen per day in one of her classes, usually a stupid mistake by one of the morons that she usually found in her class. It was as such that she found herself in a good mood as she made her way to dinner. Once in the great hall Hermione took her seat and began to pull food her way, she was famished.
"I see you're eating." Hermione jumped at the remark from her husband.
He took a seat, chuckling, and piled food on his own plate. Neither said anything to the other throughout the rest of the meal. Severus left the table first, Hermione following after him a few minutes later.
In their rooms the usual nightly routine began.
Neither talked as they relaxed in front of the fireplace, Hermione marking essays while Severus read from the potion's journal he had that morning. Every night was usually the same to them, save for the weekends when things changed a little with all the time they had to spend in their rooms.
Soon, like every night, Hermione finished her grading, as she set it aside she looked towards her husband, taking in his form as he read, relaxed. She smiled slightly and thought about what she had to tell him, maybe she could tell him and maybe he wouldn't take it badly or maybe she didn't need to worry after all. She stood up, stretching her arms and allowing a small yawn to form. She walked out of their room, headed to their bedroom.
Severus looked up as he heard the door close. He slumped a little in his chair and closed his book, dropping it on a table next to his chair. He ran a hand through his hair before covering his face with his hands. He was--like he had found himself doing often these days--thinking about his wife and the love of his life.
He didn't love Hermione. Hermia on the other hand, he had loved her, and he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was betraying her, and betraying the promise he had made himself after she had died. Just the fact that Hermione was so much like her, it killed him. He sighed, thinking about his marriage, the kind of marriage--he expected--Hermia had, too, had back then. His marriage wasn't at all like a real marriage needed to be. The fact that it was working, alone, meant that with so many things left unsaid, things wouldn't be alright for long regardless of the delusion they were living. His marriage like that of many others in the wizarding world lacked love and communication, two of the things that made marriage work. He groaned remembering how the first week had gone. Both ignoring each other and trying hard to not think about what they would need to do at the end of the week.
The wedding had been hasty, the signing of papers and saying I do's to each other without real feeling had passed quickly and then they had been finally alone. The awkwardness that had taken over them after their sham of a marriage had been terrible, neither knowing if they should speak or not to break the silence. Finally it was Severus who offered to show her their new domain, his rooms in the dungeons, they would never be mentioned as their rooms, she would be a guest, expected to leave as soon as the ridiculous law was dissolved. While they walked the long trek to the dungeons, Severus couldn't help but scowl at the thought of her in his rooms, and not just that, just even thinking about her, it made him cringe. She had been his student for goodness sake. He finally dared to look at her face, and met a frown; at least he wasn't the only one suffering.
"Your stuff is probably already through that door over there." He told her once they were in his rooms. "The door next to it is my room. A bathroom is connected to both rooms, just to warn you."
She nodded, the only sign that she was listening to him.
"My lab is through that door over there. Your office--my old office--has been cleaned out and already probably has your possessions, there is a door in there that leads out to the corridor and the potion's classroom. My private lab is not to be used by you and off limits as is my room unless you have my permission to enter. I want to make it clear that these rooms are mine until this--" he spat the next word, "--law, is repealed."
Hermione said nothing again but nodded, quietly.
"I shall see you later. Look around if you like but do not disrupt my books." He said, looking at the shelves of books that covered the walls."
In his office, still looking like it had when Dumbledore had occupied it, Severus considered his wife. He didn't know how his life would turn out with her around but he hoped that, somehow, the law would be dissolved in the near future, before anything else were to happen like the chit of a girl he had been made to marry getting pregnant. If he could put off that part of the law for as long as possible, until it was dissolved, that would at least comfort him. Severus didn't like children and much less babies and while he assumed that he would probably love his child he still didn't want any.
The first few days went on quite as the first, with Severus hiding in his lab and Hermione spending as much time as possible fixing up her office or looking through the potion's stores that would be used by the students to see if enough of everything was there, as well as adding to her own private store.
Both stayed as far away from each other as possible, ignoring each other but knowing that once Saturday arrived they needed to spend some time together to do the "deed" that would change their lives for ever, as it were.
Severus stood up, shaking himself out of his thoughts. It had made for an interesting but awkward day that first Saturday spent together, the week that had followed he had enjoyed watching the pink tint on his wife's cheeks and when that second Saturday came about, he grinned slightly, it had been that weekend that had led to them sharing a room. He walked to the fire, wondering how exactly his wife had managed to wiggle her way into his room--no--their room and rooms. He groaned slightly not wanting to keep thinking about her.
"Severus."
He turned to look at his wife. She wore a smile on her face, one of her hands rested on her still flat stomach while the other was against the wall next to the door, on which she was leaning.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Are you coming to bed?"
"Soon." He said, watching her, knowing something was odd in the way she stood.
"I wish to speak to you." She told him, after a small silence. "I've been meaning to."
Severus said nothing and instead just nodded.
She shifted slightly. He raised an eyebrow at her. Her smile grew bigger for a moment and then she turned and walked back toward their bedroom.
What did she want? They had never really talked and here she was, wanting to talk about something. He didn't need this, not while he wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep and stop thinking about her and everything else he had to deal with, like the constant visits from Harry Potter, one of which had happened earlier that day, and many other things like misbehaving students.
When he stepped into their room she was sitting up on her side of the bed, reading. She looked at him and once again, smiled.
"Severus," she began.
He interrupted her. "I don't feel like talking tonight. It's been a long day, Hermione; tomorrow you can tell me whatever it is that is bothering you."
Her smiled faded and now she was frowning, "Do you know how hard it is to even..." she trailed off and took a deep breath, no longer looking at him. "You know what, forget it, Severus Snape. I won't even bother."
She turned away from him, and he knew she was crying.
November 20, 1982
Hermia.
Her smile, the way she had looked at him before--no! He wouldn't think about that day.
He choked on another sob, remembering, now, her daily walk around the lake and the grounds of Hogwarts. He had joined her sometimes but on most afternoons she took her walks alone. He stood at the edge of the lake, now, watching the rain fall on the water, sending ripples across the surface of it. He sighed. She had been such a special person, such a beautiful person.
"I promise to never love another." He said in a whisper to himself.
He walked closer, the cold water touching his shoes slightly. He didn't seem to notice it. His eyes were now closed and he was picturing her in his mind.
She was standing, smiling at him, her hair twisting and turning around in the wind.
"I will never love another." He said this louder.
His shoes were completely covered by water.
"I will never love anyone but you! No one but Hermia Dumbledore!" This he screamed, when it died down he whispered, "No one but you."
He walked two steps into the lake, the water nearly to his knees.
"No one but you." He whispered, again, a sob breaking in.
Magic seemed to surround him, now, taking him off the water slightly before he fell to his knees in the water and even though he had told himself not to cry tears were rolling down his cheeks mixing with the rain and falling into the lake and he was whispering her name not caring that he was soaking wet and still in the lake.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 2 - 'FIRST IMPRESSIONS'
CHAPTER 2
November 17, 2002
Hermione didn't speak to her husband for the next week. Severus was mad at her approach to their--could he call it this--fight and refused to even try to understand why she was even mad at him. As such he found himself in his office, alone, not knowing what he could do with his entire Saturday afternoon but to spend it in his office, reading. He had always spent Saturdays in his rooms with his wife--the only large amount of time in which they spent together--mostly doing nothing while sitting by the fire, or brewing something in his labs with her, or maybe discussing a book or getting her fired up on a new potion's article seeing as he enjoyed just how well she could match him with her debates and even while she reminded him of Hermia. He missed his usual Saturday. Oh, good gods, he wasn't getting attached to her!
He heard footsteps and looked up, glad to be rid of his former thought. Who wanted to see him, now? No one ever seeked him out on the weekends, not that many people seeked him out save for one person. He opened the door, looking at a tall messy haired, bespectacled man. Harry Potter. Severus groaned.
"Severus." He said.
"What do you want, now, Potter?" Severus growled.
"I didn't know who else to go to." Harry said, stepping into the office. He looked around it as if he had never been inside it, making Severus groan. "It looks so much like it did back then. Why don't you change it, add a couple of your creepy jars."
Severus glared at him. "Potter, if you are here to share tips as to how to decorate my office you may leave, if not, I would rather you discussed whatever it is you're here to share--Merlin knows you love doing that--and then leave."
Harry looked at him sheepishly for a moment, before speaking again. "Luna's pregnant."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I don't know how it is any of my business that your wife is pregnant, Mr. Potter, if you wanted a celebration you have gone to the wrong man."
"Harry." Harry told him. "Not Potter. Harry."
Severus let out a small growl.
Harry grinned at him. "Severus, I don't know what to do. I've always wanted a family, don't get me wrong, but I, I don't know."
"You will leave me alone and go celebrate with your friends, now will you leave, Mr. Potter?"
Harry glared at him this time, not quite getting the point across.
Severus let out a chuckle. "Potter, get out. I don't care that your wife is pregnant, and neither do I care about whatever cowardly thoughts that are going through that big head of yours."
"I'm not going to leave her or my unborn child." Harry said, angry. "I would never."
"And yet the thoughts remain." Severus said. "And yet you are here."
Harry said nothing.
Severus groaned, "Why are you wasting my time?"
"I'm not." Harry said offended, "not that it matters but time is a fickle thing, if I were in fact, as you said, wasting your time, that would imply that perhaps you had time to be wasted but as I see it, it is Saturday and you were sitting in your office reading--" he walked to the desk and picked up a book. "--The Fellowship of the Rings. Tolkien. Really? All that is gold does not glitter,/Not all those who wander are lost;/The old that is strong does not wither,/Deep roots are not reached by the frost,/From the ashes of fire shall be woken,/A light from the shadows shall spring;/Renewed shall be blade that was broken:/The crownless again shall be king." He quoted as he set the book down on the desk.
"You've read it, then."
"Only about a hundred times. Frodo was so much like me, you know."
Severus nodded, but rather than to continue talking about The Lord of the Rings, Severus decided to make a clever comment, "Frodo, however, did not get the girl pregnant." He said.
"No, Aragorn would be the one doing that. I always thought of you to be like him, the darkness surrounded him, you know."
Severus growled. "Hermione, though, is not pregnant."
Harry nodded, not quite meeting Severus' eyes, not that Severus noticed. Instead, taking the bait, he began to pace, thinking about his wife and her pregnancy while staying far away from thoughts about the Snape's own growing family.
While Harry did this, Severus was watching him, thinking about how he and Harry Potter had become friends. He walked to his desk and sat down behind it, leaning back in his chair. The friendship hadn't been because of his wife; oddly it had begun much earlier back during the final battle. When the trio had found him, moments after nagini's bite, it had been Harry who had the cure, apparently having learnt something. The bezoar that he pushed down his throat mixed with the phoenix tears had rendered him unconscious after he told Harry to take his memories. Now, Harry showed up in his rooms or office once a week to talk about the latest thing that was bothering him or just because he was bored, or because he wanted to share some news, or he wanted to just enjoy one of his wife's cups of hot chocolate, which he had never drunk mostly because he hadn't drunken hot chocolate since 1981, and he didn't understand why Harry Potter was in love with that chocolate.
"I can't be a father." Harry said, now, "I'm not even close to ready for the responsibility."
Severus laughed. "Go to your wife. She's probably feeling the same way, and I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."
"I can't go to her, not now."
"Go." Severus said. "I will, otherwise, take you to my wife."
Harry's emerald green eyes widened for a moment before nodding, not really paying attention as he walked to the fire place he muttered. "I'm leaving then, and, oh, congratulations," then he was gone in a swirl of green fire.
Severus stared at the fire that had now changed back from it's green shade, wondering what on earth Harry had been talking about, unless he was being sarcastic and pointing out that he, Severus, had never given him any congratulations on the addition to the Potter family. Oh, god, another Potter. It was finally sinking in, it would be about twelve years and another Potter with messy black hair and round glasses would be walking the halls of Hogwarts, a Gryffindor, no doubt, ignorant of the rules and...No, he didn't want to think about this any longer. He had twelve more years of peace, or maybe not, considering how much time Harry was spending with him. He groaned, standing from his relaxed position on the chair and walking along his bookshelf, looking at all the books, new and old. Most of them were Dumbledore's but some were his own additions, not that these were the only books he owned. His private library at Spinner's End which he had yet to share with his wife, held more of his valuable books. Some, however, the ones he had to have at hand were in his and Hermione's rooms, covering the walls of his lab and their sitting room. Severus considered himself a bibliophile of both muggle and wizarding books, many of his books were first edition, hand written manuscripts, others rare books of which only twenty copies remained. As he walked along the bookshelf he wondered at the mystery that--to him--still was Harry Potter. So he read and clearly had a good memory, at least his brain hadn't been lost on him like that of his father's, but to recite a poem like that in the blink of an eye, what else had he read? Now the boy, no, the young man, was beginning to interest him. He stopped, his hand caressing the soft leather bound book he had come upon. A Mid-Summer's Night Dream By: William Shakespeare. He groaned as he looked at the book. Hermia. He shook his head, frowning, before walking to the window, rather than to take the book from the shelf.
He saw a figure walking by the lake. He knew his wife even from a distance. For a moment he thought of going out there and talking to her, something he would never have done before but after not talking to her for a week he was very tempted to just go out there and do that. He, however, knew better than to expect her to forgive him for whatever it had been he had done. Not listen to her? He scoffed. He continued watching her as she continued walking until she reached a tree and she sat down against it brining out a book. For the next half hour, Severus leaned out of his window into the slightly cold air and watched as she reached towards her eyes as if rubbing them and then she was closing the book and burning her head in her hands. He knew, like he had known that night nearly a week previous that she was crying and for some reason, like that night, he had an urge to comfort her. Suddenly, she had stood up and left the grounds, walking briskly towards the gates and not the castle. He wondered where she could be going but before he could even make any guesses as to where she could be expected to be heading, he heard his fire crack and then out of the fire place came Harry Potter, wiping soot off his black robes. His glasses were cracked and he had only one shoe but regardless of the he pulled himself together and managed a smile.
"What happened?" Severus asked.
"She hates me." Harry cried. "I got there and she was kind of mad. She, er, threw some hexes at me."
Severus shook his head. This was unbelievable. Why did Harry choose to go to him, anyhow? It wasn't like he had any experience or--for that matter--much tolerance for the man.
"What did you do to get her mad, Potter?" He asked even though he didn't really want to know what had happened to him but maybe if Harry got it out of his system quickly enough he would leave him alone.
"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I don't know anything anymore."
Of course he didn't. He never seemed to know anything. Severus glared at him.
Harry didn't seem to take notice of it as he took off his remaining shoe and then set his cracked glasses on Severus' desk, rubbing his eyes.
Oh god, now he was getting comfortable, this wasn't good, not at all.
"She hates me." He muttered again, once he was comfortable.
Severus was once more shaking his head. "I don't know about that, Potter. However, I do have a question for you, why do you keep coming here? Don't you have any friends?"
Harry blushed. "I don't care to go to Ron about these matters and Draco..." he trailed off.
A falling out was it? It had been about time in his opinion. Ronald Weasley had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, to use the muggle expression, he had never compared to Harry and unlike his brothers, whom Severus respected to a point, especially the twins, Ron had never seemed capable of anything but following Harry Potter around like a lost puppy and now he followed his wife, Lavender. Draco on the other hand had connected with Harry in such a deeper level of friendship. He couldn't even think about them no longer being friends.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." Harry said. "Draco and I, we, um, it was an accident really. He's an auror, you know, we were out the other night getting some drinks after work and one thing led to another and--"
"Never mind." Severus said, interrupting.
"What can I do?" Harry asked, having now fixed his glasses and put them on.
"Nothing, Harry, nothing. You're also asking, probably the worst person, about these matters."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think that." He said, then, "I love her. Not that I didn't love Ginny two years back. It's different, you know, Luna just seems to fit with me perfectly, sort of like you and Hermione."
Severus snorted. "Hermione and I have nothing outside of this law. I will never love her and, no doubt, she will never love me."
Harry looked aghast.
"But I always thought." He muttered. "You have a certain, I don't know, but from how things go while you're in a room together, certain actions, the way you're always touching each other somehow, the way you look at each other half the time."
It was now Severus' turn to be shocked, but it didn't last long before he growled at Harry. "Stay out of my life, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Out of curiosity, why are you in your office, not that I mind or anything, but I went to your rooms and no one was there."
Severus considered the young man, wondering if he should confide in the younger man, not that--in the way he saw it--there was anything at all to confide. He hadn't done anything wrong but have a long day, Potter's fault at that, and tell her they could talk about it another time. He doubted he would have been more willing to listen in the morning but he probably would have given it a chance, but of course she had gotten mad, he didn't really blame her.
"It's nothing." Severus said. "Now, are you going to leave me alone or not?"
"Sev, you know I can't possibly go back home now." A grinning Harry said, now.
"I told you not to call me Sev." Severus all but growled
Harry laughed beginning to walk around the room, now, perusing the bookshelves. "Muggle novels, Severus?" He asked.
Severus gave him a look and then pointed at The Fellowship of the Ring, as he took his seat behind his desk again.
"She's mad at you, isn't she?" Harry asked, now, one of his hands lingering on Alexander Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. "Let's just hope that she's not with my wife."
Severus groaned. The mere thought of Hermione and Luna together, plotting against him and Harry Potter, of all people, sent ripples of fear through him. He didn't even want to think about what they could do to them together. Hermione tended to get creative about these sorts of things if she was in the mood.
"Right in one, Sherlock." He said to Harry, instead.
"What are you then? Watson?"
Severus said nothing to that and instead buried his head in his hands. Everyone knew Watson was just there for kicks while Sherlock Holmes did all the work.
Harry was laughing again. "I never actually read any of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books, you know."
"Obviously." Severus muttered.
Harry laughed harder.
"Why are you always here?" Severus said, groaning and rolling his eyes.
Harry stopped laughing. "I'm not always here." Now he looked offended.
"Of course not." Sarcasm dripped off his comment. "Just like you aren't here at least once a week."
"That's not always." Harry retorted, his lips beginning to quirk into a smile.
Severus growled, stood and walked to the window, looking out at the sunlit grounds. A couple of students lingered out, some walking in groups of friends, others in couples, however no one was alone. Not like he had been for his last two years at Hogwarts. It hadn't really been that he didn't have friends but that the mere acquaintances of Slytherin were just terrible companions. His thoughts were thrown aside when Harry spoke again.
"Anything interesting out there?"
Severus turned away from the window. "No, Potter, the grounds."
"You're an amusing man, Severus Snape." Harry stated, now.
"Good gods, man," cried Severus, "why do you bother me so?"
"I do no such thing." Harry denied.
Severus gave him one of his penetrating looks to which Harry seemed to laugh, before becoming focused on the pictures of former headmasters, one in particular. He approached the sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore and tapped it softly. Dumbledore shook himself, looking for a moment confused before spotting Harry.
"Hello, Harry."
From where he stood, Severus began to mutter to himself. This really was just too much. It was turning into an old party, wasn't it? Soon Neville Longbottom, whom he was glad to admit he had not seen since his graduation, would be joining them along with--it was just too much to hope that he wouldn't be involved--Remus Lupin. He did however, upon imagining how that meeting would go, break out into a grin, it would interesting to see them together with him in their midst, scowling at whatever attempt to do something they all enjoyed was tried. He sighed, what was he doing thinking about such things?
"Severus."
He looked towards Harry who had now stopped talking to the portrait of Dumbledore and had stepped to the right so that the piercing blue eyes--how they managed to still have that twinkle in them even in a painting was beyond him--were looking at him.
"We haven't talked in a while, Severus."
"I had no need of conversation."
"Of course," Dumbledore said, once more turning to a grinning Harry.
"Albus, before I forget, you told me once that when the ministry passes laws, said law had to have been around for at least two years, rather than be passed out of the blue unlike what Fudge was doing back in 1995. I have found a way to perhaps get rid of the marriage law all together but only if the law had been around before that. Sir, did you hear of it before your death?"
Dumbledore seemed to think about it for a moment before he answered, "I believe sometime after Fudge was taken out of office, the law came up, however the idea had already been there. Fudge had wanted to pass it but never had a chance to actually go through it. Scrimgeour did advance the law, it was polished and ready to be put into place at the end of your sixth year but he didn't have enough support."
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, "Thank you."
Dumbledore was suddenly gone from the portrait and Harry shrugged. "In just a few months, I think, the law will be dissolved."
Severus was surprised to find that he wasn't at all happy but rather confused and worried. He didn't know why but the thought of Hermione not being in his life, not being in his rooms it was something he couldn't even imagine. He was getting attached to her, wasn't he? It still would never be love but she was his wife.
Severus was just about to respond to Harry's comment when out of his fireplace; a blond woman with radishes for earrings entered his office. "Harry James Potter." She screeched.
Severus could have laughed, had the moment warranted it, at the expression on Harry Potter's face. It appeared that the man who could face and defeat Voldemort could not face his wife. The coward.
The small cottage in the middle of a forest looked quiet and peaceful, perfect for someone that wanted to escape their troubles but it wasn't generally so. A young boy of about five, his hair a bright purple color, was running in front of the house, his mother chasing after him, her laughter resounding through the forest. From the door of the cottage a tall, thin looking man smiled, the scars on his face not being a care in the world to him as he looked on at his wife and son. It was at this moment that a resounding crack made them all stop. Hermione Snape stood in front of them, a dazzling smile lighting her face as she looked upon her two friends and honorary nephew.
"Hermione." Nymphadora Lupin who still preferred to be called Tonks, said, grinning.
"Tonks." Hermione said. "I am so glad to see you."
"Aunty Mione!" Teddy Lupin said, hair changing to that of the same brown as hers.
"Teddy," Hermione said, opening her arms. Teddy grinned and ran into her arms. She let him go after a moment, having taken some comfort from his embrace but wondering how she would feel when it was her own child hugging her so. A smile crept onto her face.
"Can you play with me, Aunty?" Teddy was asking, now, looking at her innocently.
"Honey, I think your father wishes to play with you." Tonks said, now, smiling.
Teddy shook his head. "I want Aunty Mione."
Hermione took his hand, "come on, Teddy, I'm not going to play with you, but you can sit by me while I talk to your mummy and daddy."
Teddy seemed to consider it, before nodding. He pulled at her hand as they made their way inside.
"Hello, Hermione." Remus said.
"Hi, Remus." She greeted her former teacher.
Once they were all seated in the drawing room, Hermione seated with Teddy's head on her lap, Hermione heaved a great sigh.
"Hermione you look a little upset, don't try to hide it, what happened?" Tonks said.
"I don't know what happened. Maybe I'm living some sort of delusion and maybe I, maybe I tried to care for him, to make my situation better and in turn I have hurt myself." Hermione said. "I care for him, I admit at least that much and I had hoped that at least he cared only a bit or that he might listen to me."
Tonks stood up and walked around the room. "You're pregnant." She stated looking at Hermione, excited.
Hermione nodded.
"Have you told him?"
"No." Hermione said. "I attempted but it's impossible to even talk to him. I have been ignoring him all week, in fact, that might make him talk."
"Want me to go annoy him into talking to you?" Remus asked, looking a little like the marauder he truly was.
Hermione smiled. "Of course."
Remus grinned. "I won't say a word, I'll see you later, Dora." and with a kiss on his wife's cheek, Remus walked to the fire place.
Remus stepped into the chaos that had erupted in Severus' office and couldn't help but start laughing at the scene before him. Severus was leaning against a bookshelf, laughing hard, holding his stomach from the pain while Harry Potter hid behind a desk, his ears elongated to look like that of a rabbit's ears, while his wife was yelling at him, her wand pointed at him, ready to kill. His laughter seemed to have alerted his pressence in the room and everyone turned to look at him. Luna sent him a smile and Harry a look asking for help while Severus continued laughing.
"Can't we just talk about this?" Harry was asking his wife.
"No!" Luna said.
"I'm sorry. I was confused, I, I'm sorry, please, Luna?"
Luna glared at him, before making a decision. "I need to talk to Hermione."
"She's with Tonks." Remus told her. "At my house."
Luna nodded, before walking the fire place, shooting Harry a last glare.
Harry looked relived, his ears flopping upwards as if excited, and yet he couldn't help but worry. "All those women plotting and planning." He muttered.
"I think," Severus put in his two cents. "That we should stop talking about our wives and perhaps you--" he motioned to the two men "--should leave me alone."
"I love her." Harry muttered as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"Yes, I get that." Severus said. "However, I would like to get back to my book."
Harry rolled his eyes "You don't really want that."
How was it that he couldn't get rid of him, and now Remus Lupin was in the mix, Severus just couldn't believe it and to think that earlier in the afternoon he had wished to find something to do other than read and that was now all he wanted to do.
"We could go out to a pub or something." Remus proposed. "You must be tired of being in this office all day."
Yes, he was tired but he would rather be in the office than to go to some pub where, no doubt, Harry and Remus would end up drunk while he had to deal with getting them home. He didn't feel like dealing with something like this.
"I'm sorry but I will have to decline." He told them, instead.
"The Prancing Pony will do." Remus said, ignoring Severus.
"Yes. Come along, Severus." Harry said, taking him by the arm and pulling him to the door.
"But I don't want to go." Muttered Severus as he was lead out of his office.
"I'll go get drinks." Remus announced and before, Severus had even managed to ask if he could have something non-alcoholic, he was gone.
"I'll just have to get my own drink or hope he gets me something drinkable." Severus muttered to Harry a tall, leggy blonde gave him a suggestive look.
Harry broke out into laughter at the expression that had found it's way into Severus' face when seeing the woman. Severus glared at him, thinking about how his glares had become so much less powerful around Harry and his wife when they had once made them cower in fear.
Remus was back now. He set three mugs on the table before taking his seat. "I saw the blonde, Severus." He said.
"Not even going to respond." Severus muttered.
Harry chuckled, picking up his mug and taking a sip while he looked around the room.
"You have a wife, Potter." Severus reminded him.
"I know." Harry said, frustrated. "I was just trying to figure out if anyone I know is here."
For five o'clock in the afternoon, The Prancing Pony was full. Severus had never really seen so many people drinking at such an early hour, at least to him it was. He looked down at his drink and scowled at the lycanthrope across from him. He never drunk anything with alcohol in it, probably a habit he regained from being a spy for so long. Drinking while with Voldemort could have caused any sort of trouble so he rarely did it. Wine during dinner, it was a special occasion, was one of his exceptions or just other important dates.
"Come on, Sev, take a drink for once." Harry said.
Severus shook his head, standing and making his way to the bar.
"Can I get a butterbeer?"
"Coming right up, dear." The scantily clad woman standing behind the bar, said, rushing about.
He turned around; looking around the place quite like Harry had been doing earlier, but hoping that no one he knew would be around.
"Hello, handsome." The same blonde woman from before, said, looking as if she was ready to pounce on him.
"Here you are." The woman from the bar pushed the butterbeer towards him. He took it, leaving two galleons on the bar and walking away.
The blonde followed him. "Come on, I like you." She said.
"I also have a wife." He retorted.
"She doesn't have to know." She purred at him, touching his arm.
Severus glared at her. "You will take your claws off me this instant. I have a wife and I want nothing to do with a bimbo such as yourself."
Said bimbo gaped at him before slapping him and walking away. He sighed and continued his walk to the table. Remus and Harry were shaking with laughter.
"You could have just drunken your fire-whiskey." Harry told him.
Severus glared at him. "She would have come over here, regardless, Potter. I still refuse to drink that vile drink."
"Don't you ever drink?" Harry asked, laughing.
"Yes, but only on special occasions." Severus muttered.
"Hermia." Remus whispered. "The anniversary of her death."
Severus nodded solemnly.
Silence fell over them, soon broken by Harry, who asked, confused. "Who is Hermia?"
"I do not talk about that." Severus muttered, standing up. "And I think I have had enough of this." He then walked out of the pub.
Continue Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 3 - 'FIRST IMPRESSIONS'
CHAPTER 3
November 17, 2002
Necromancy, the art of bringing back the dead, also an art that had never been proven possible, was something that Severus Snape was contemplating, that way he could bring back Harry Potter back to life after killing him. What question his had been, not that he could really blame him, it had been quite an innocent inquiry and yet it brought forth such memories. Why had Remus even brought the topic up to begin with? He took a deep breath, his fingers moving his hair behind his ear as he took long strides to get to the castle, hoping that perhaps Hermione was back and that he could--dare he even think it--talk to her. Not about Hermia, of course but about their so called fight. He still refused to believe it could be a fight.
She wasn't there. For a moment Severus considered going back to his reading, he had been getting to one of the best parts, the meeting of Tom Bombadil, but he didn't really want to go to his office to get the book or for that matter even read it. He sighed as he sunk into his favorite chair by the unlit fireplace. He didn't bother lighting it and instead just slumped in his chair but was startled as he begun to get comfortable when the door was opened.
Hermione stepped into the room and stared at him, not knowing what to do. She shifted from foot to foot slightly and then she walked forward, making toward their bedroom.
"Hermione."
She stopped, not turning, but still standing in that spot.
"Yes." She whispered, now.
"I'm sorry." Severus said in a low tone, not liking how his words were coming out.
She still had not turned or addressed his comment. "I don't know what I did but I hate not talking."
Hermione scoffed. "You will still always be the same." she told him and then walked to their bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Severus stood up, following after her with a groan. He opened the door to the bedroom but did nor enter the room, preferring to remain standing in the doorway. "I have never apologized for anything to anyone in my life--"
"I hardly doubt that," Hermione said, interrupting him.
He walked to where she stood, putting her cloak away in her wardrobe. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "What do you want from me?"
"If you have to ask me that, then there is no point in me telling you." She said, shrugging his hands away and walking past him to another part of the room.
"I'm here to listen; I want to know what is wrong. I need to know what is wrong."
Hermione turned back to him. "It's the law." She said.
"What of it?" He walked to stand in front of her, he reached as if to take her in her arms before dropping his arms as if changing his mind.
"You know what part I am talking about, Severus." She said, looking down at her shoes.
Severus did know. The part where it gave them five years to conceive a child, the loose reason as to why the law was formed to begin with. This was Harry's fault. He could pin point it exactly, why had he gotten Luna pregnant? It was giving his wife ideas, no doubt.
Nevertheless, Severus answered with an affirmative, "yes."
"I've been wondering lately how a child would fare with us as its parents." Hermione said, still not looking at him.
Severus reached for her this time, pulling her towards him. "You would make a great mother, Hermione, a great mother and I, I would try but I would never hurt our child, never believe that I will. You know my past, Potter might have told you."
He felt her shake his head.
Still holding onto her, Severus led her to their bed and sat down, pulling her with him onto his lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck. He somehow scooted them to the middle of the bed and laid back with Hermione still in his arms. "Let me tell you a story." He murmured to her. "About a young woman of about eighteen, a witch. She was a beautiful woman, pitch black hair cascaded down her back, curling in some sort of perfection, her hazel eyes bright, happy. This woman never found a reason for going against her parent's wishes until she found knowledge that her father had made an arranged marriage for her. Of course she was a stubborn woman, fancied herself in love with a muggle she had met once with a friend and of course one led thing left to another and they were together. He was an alright fellow for the time they dated and then she became pregnant.
"For a long while he wanted nothing to do with it, telling her that perhaps the child was not his. Her fiancé, the man her father had arranged a marriage for her with broke everything off upon hearing she was with child and her family no longer wanted anything to do with her. The only person she could turn to was her boyfriend and he was still in denial, not for long however, when she received inheritance from a widowed and childless aunt. He was a money grabbing scoundrel and interested only in making better of himself.
"They were married and soon their son was born. He was a disappointment. I was a disappointment. My father hated me from the moment I was born. I was too much of a cost for him to take. My mother didn't tell him she was a witch and once the money was gone he became dangerous, drinking every night, beating her. I hid in my room on most nights, hearing his cane as it struck her. When I was old enough to understand that he didn't have a right to do this I begged my mother to leave him. Her once beautiful personality had been broken and she was nothing more than a woman who would let him do anything to her if she could only stay with him. It was apparent by the time I was eight that I was more of the reason behind the beatings. She was protecting me and so I got in between them one night, trying to stop him from hurting her.
"By the time I was eleven it was so bad that I hated going home. I would never want that for anyone. I think he made me strong but in making me strong he also broke me and made me an easy target for others to pick on. Many people have wondered as to what led the event of my broken nose. It was my father who broke it, already large the rupture did nothing to help my looks. I never want that for any child, Hermione, I would hate it so I think that you shouldn't worry because I would take care of him or her, of you."
Hermione was crying against him. "I am so sorry that happened to you. I never knew." She buried her head deeper into his neck. "Severus," she said, now, "I've been meaning to--"
A furious tapping on the window stopped her from continuing.
"I should get that." Severus said, sitting up.
Hermione let him go; watching him as an owl flew in, dropping a letter in his hands.
He opened the letter, reading the Remus Lupin's scrawl.
Severus,
I'd appreciate it if you were to come to the ministry of magic, Harry, even though he is the boy who lived, will need you to help him out of a mess. I'll explain when you get here. It's urgent so please don't take your time and come right away.
Remus
Severus groaned. "I have to go, Hermione." He handed her the letter.
"I hope it's nothing serious." She said, cleaning up her face. "Could I come with you?"
"I--yes, if you must." He said, making sure he had everything he needed, as she once more put on her cloak, the conversation and whatever she had been about to tell him, forgotten.
The Château d'If was all that Harry could think about while he sat in the plain white room he had been put in once he had arrived in the ministry, escorted by two of his fellow aurors, Ron Weasley and Charlie Barttlet. Ron hadn't been at all friendly or understanding while Charlie had tried to get Harry off the hook, Ron hadn't been a help. However at the moment Harry had no thoughts about Ron Weasley or for that matter the ever comical Charlie Barttlet. At the moment he was contemplating how much he hated sitting in the plain while room but how much better it was then the Château d'If which was, much like Azkaban, located on an island, the isle of If off the coast of Marseilles. Of course such thoughts about the Château d'If led to thoughts of Edmund Dantes and his false crime. Dantes had never been a supporter of Napoleon just like he, Harry Potter, had not thrown the unforgivable curse but who could believe him? Not that they necessarily needed to, in his opinion, no special treatment for Harry Potter, he blamed Ron Weasley and the suddenly bad reputation he had among the ministry. It was to do with his work against the marriage law and perhaps his friendship with Hermione who had been blacklisted from any job within the ministry, maybe just the fact that he had helped some of her fights against the ministry on elf rights or other such things. He sighed, comparing himself to a character from a book wasn't helping, in fact, it was becoming a bit of a bit of a habit and not one that would help him get out of this mess. The ministry was trying to find a way to get back his support for them but Harry knew that until something changed with the marriage law he would stand against them even if once upon a time he had been friends with Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Harry stood up and began to pace, he was just about to speak to the guard posted in front of the door when he heard two sets of footsteps. Then the familiar voice of Severus Snape carried into the room. At least Remus had listened to him which was more than he could ask for. Remus would never have gotten him out, being a werewolf and all; Remus was one of the least desirable people to go against the ministry. After Hermione had fought for more werewolf rights a year or so ago the ministry had been made to give werewolves a more open understanding but of course it still allowed room for bigotry. Things were never going to change.
"You will let him out this instant, Mr. Corner." Severus Snape said. "If you haven't noticed that is Harry Potter you're holding in there the reason you are alive and as for that matter he is an auror and would never have produced the cruciatus. Now, you will let him out."
Michael Corner muttered something that Harry did not hear and then there was a jingling of keys and the door was being opened.
"Come, Mr. Potter." Severus said, looking more like his old teacher than ever. Harry grinned at him. "I'm afraid the ministry has no real hold on you or proof. You aren't even supposed to have been put in there. I believe this has something to do with the marriage law. The ministry is becoming more and more corrupt. Kingsley should be talked to."
Harry nodded as they walked out of the room. Hermione was standing not far off from them.
"Are you alright?" she asked, hugging Harry.
"Yes, fine. Has anyone told Luna?"
"No." Hermione answered. "It is best this way. Wouldn't want to upset her more, in fact, Harry, I don't think you should go home, last I saw her she didn't seem ready to forgive you and I have to say I kind of admit that she has a right to be mad."
Harry groaned. "Can I stay with you guys, just for tonight?"
Hermione nodded even while Severus was motioning for her to say no. She shot him a glare.
"Thanks."
"Why?"
Hermione who had just gotten into bed and had just opened her book to read looked up at her husband. "Why what, Sev?"
"Why did you offer him to stay here?"
"Is that why you've been in such a grouchy mood? Harry's alright, you know, considering how much time you spend together I will have to point out that you are his friend."
"Yes." Severus hissed.
Hermione laughed, turning back to her book.
"What are you reading?"
Hermione sighed, frustrated, "nothing, because you won't let me." She gave him a sardonic look.
"I'm bored." He whined much like a five year old would to his mother.
"And?" Hermione asked.
"Can't you do something about it?"
"No, now let me read."
He opened his mouth once more but Hermione interrupted him. "If you don't let me read I will make you share the guest room with Harry."
This made Severus also get into bed and attempt to read his book.
November 20, 2002
It could often be said that when one is having the perfect day, in some way, something will happen that will change the perfect day into something monstrous.
It was one of the best days for Hermione Snape. She had woken up with no nausea to speak off and even though Severus had been missing from his spot in their bed there was just something in the air that had made her smile. After a quick shower and dressing in her favorite robes, a pair that Severus had given her for her birthday, Hermione walked out of hers and Severus' rooms towards the great hall. She was going to enjoy her breakfast.
Bacon, eggs, and toast made up only part of her breakfast, but even when outstanded at how much she was eating Hermione reminded herself that she was eating for two. After sharing a conversation with Professor Flitwick and wondering where Severus had gotten to, seeing as he wasn't in breakfast, Hermione headed to her classroom where she proceeded to finish grading the last two essays for the week, ready to be handed back to her first class of the day. When they entered she smiled at them. It was going to be an easy class; they weren't going to be working on a potion but rather talking about the kind of things that went well together. During her next class only minimal burning happened when a first year accidentally spilled some of her potion on another class mate before it was finished resulting in burning.
It was right before lunch that things began to get, for lack of a better word, weird. Hermione stepped into her office to leave some of her papers when she heard a loud thump coming from hers and Severus' rooms. She walked into the rooms but there was no one there. After deciding that it had been nothing, Hermione went to lunch from which Severus was once again missing.
"Have you seen Severus today, Hermione?" Professor Vector asked her as she took her seat.
"No, actually, I've been wondering where he has gotten to myself, is he not in his office."
"No." Professor Vector said, "But it's alright, I guess, I'll talk to him when he shows up."
Hermione nodded, wondering where her husband had gone. It wasn't at all like him to not tell her if he was leaving the castle.
The swishing amber liquid in his glass made him frown. A sigh escaped him after a long moment and then he brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip, welcoming the burning in his throat as the alcohol traveled down it. The blazing fire in front of him crackled. Severus groaned. He was sitting in the drawing room of his house at Spinner's End thinking about Hermia and her death, not quite--like he had done in the past few months--comparing her with his wife. Twenty-one years. It had been twenty years since her death; such a long time and still he loved her, still he missed her and mourned for her. A lone tear traveled the length of his cheek and got lost in his clothes. He cleared his throat, he wouldn't cry, he shook his head, wondering if perhaps his life would have been different had she lived. His thoughts were interrupted when someone began to rap hard on his door. Severus looked at the door but didn't bother getting up, hoping that whoever it was would leave him alone.
However, Minerva McGonagall wasn't one to give up so she unlocked the door and strode purposely towards where he was sitting, not seemingly interested in the house.
"Severus Tobias Snape," she said, ready to reprimand, her lips thinned looking strict. "I would think better of you, mourning another woman when you have a wife who--"
"A wife I did not choose or want to have!" He spat back, bitterly. "I mourn the woman I love."
"Loved, Severus." Minerva said, her lips no longer thin, "It is in the past. You can't lose yourself to the past. You have a future and if you do not forget the past, forget her; you will lose something so much more important."
He shook his head. "I don't want to hear it, Minerva, I have nothing to lose, leave me!"
"I've warned you." Minerva said. "You can't say I didn't do that, I've warned you and now it's all up to you."
Severus scoffed as she turned away from him. He heard her walk to the door. Suddenly she stopped. "Hermia came to me that night, Severus, she told me everything and standing here I can safely say she was right about you."
"Right about me?" He asked. "About me?"
"Yes. You'd do well to take care of your wife and stop caring for Hermia Dumbledore." Minerva said.
"You know nothing of the life Hermione and I share." He said. "Nothing about how much I care for her."
"You care only for yourself, Severus," she said and then she was walking out the door.
He shook his head. She didn't know what went on in his life; she knew nothing about him, about Hermione or about Hermia. He stood up, throwing his drink at the wall, watching the liquid run down the wall and the glass scattered on the floor reflect the fire.
"Hermia, my love." He called out.
"Severus?"
He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the fire.
She walked around him, examining him closely. "Are you drunk?"
Again there was no response.
"You are, aren't you? I don't believe this, Severus."
He stared at her before bringing the glass to his lips as if she wasn't standing in front of him.
Hermione glared at him before taking the glass from him and spilling its contents on the floor.
He seemed to have finally noticed her now as he shot her a glare before he shook himself and his expression softened. "Hermia?"
"Hermione." She told him, her eyes narrowing at him before she asked, "Hermia. Who is this Hermia?"
"You have no right to talk about her." He whispered coldly.
"I have no right? You are calling out for another woman when I, your wife, stand right in front of you." She said, not quite screaming.
He nonchalantly walked past her to his bottle of rum, filling another cup to the rim and taking a big gulp.
"What is wrong with you, Severus Snape?" She asked. "You never drink and yet, here you are, talking about some Hermia and acting just so--" She didn't finish, instead collecting her things she walked to the door. "I'll be back by midnight, and you better be sober." And then she walked out of their rooms.
When guilt hits someone it usually comes unannounced. Once Hermione had left Severus sunk into his chair feeling like the world's biggest **** and he considered McGonagall's words. He wondered if she had been right if losing Hermione meant losing something important. Now that he was considering it he imagined it was important, however his hazy alcohol filled mind wasn't letting him think. He stood up, groaning and walked towards his lab in search of a sober up potion which he drunk all in one shot when he found it. The effects were instantaneous and he felt aware of everything now and this is when worry hit him. How would he explain Hermia to her? Where had she gone? He walked back to the sitting room and once more slumped in his chair. When had he begun caring for her so much? When had it all changed and when had she become so important to him? He buried his head in his hands, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he lifted his head and was faced with Harry Potter standing mere inches away from him.
"Harry Potter." Severus drawled.
Harry grinned, looking around the room. "So," he began, "why so--" he seemed to be looking for the word for a moment before, "--gloomy?"
"Not a good time, Potter." Severus said.
"Ah, trouble with Hermione." Harry nodded to himself. "You look terrible."
Severus glared at him. "Potter can you leave me alone?"
"No, sorry. I'm a little bored."
"Can't you go read something or talk to your wife?"
Harry scoffed. "Not in the mood."
"You could, perhaps, bother someone else." Severus suggested.
Harry seemed to consider it. "No one else to bother." He announced.
"Alright, Potter, stay here, I on the other hand will take a shower." Severus told him, hoping that this would make him leave.
It didn't.
It was well past one when Severus became seriously worried about his wife. Harry had noticed the growing change as it became later and later but he said nothing until Severus stood up.
"Hermione was supposed to be back an hour ago. She's probably in the library right now, sleeping no doubt. I'll be right back."
"Can I come?" Harry asked.
"Go to the room of requirement, she might have gone there." Severus told him.
"Right." Harry said.
The two of them walked in different directions, Harry taking a shortcut that would make walking from the dungeons to the seventh floor much easier while Severus walked into the Potion's room which was connected to the library for the benefit of his wife, it hadn't taken much to do this.
The library was empty when he entered it but he knew she had been there when he saw a couple of sheets of paper marked in green ink. Hermione didn't like red ink which was something he found amusing, she felt red ink was too much like blood and that it seemed to just ruin a piece of paper. The green ink, she reminded him, when he had frowned at her after she told him that, was also Slytherin colors so that now he didn't really mind her using it. He was, however, upon looking at the paper, surprised at the low score she had scribbled in one corner was when usually she was usually very lenient about things such as grammatical mistakes seeing as that was the least of her concern with the useless information that was found in the essays.
Taking the paper with him he decided to walk the long way to their rooms, hoping to see her, as he neared the kitchens he spotted her turning the corner to head down to their rooms. He followed after her glad that she was alright. He was walking at a leisurely pace, thinking about what he could say to her to explain his actions when he heard her scream. He took off at a run in her direction, to find her dangling from the stairs. He couldn't reach her and doubted that using magic would help. She had seen him now and her eyes were focused on him. He said nothing and he couldn't help but think about Hermia at that moment not because he wondered how she would deal with the moment but because the way Hermione was looking at him was exactly how she had looked at him before she died because there was something there, certain calmness.
"Hermione?" he asked.
She simply smiled, didn't ask for his help or look even remotely scared as she reached slowly to something easier to hold onto. She pulled herself up slightly and he stood there watching her but it was as if some unnatural force was pulling at her because soon she was falling.
There was no body, nothing to even show that she had died. When Harry found Severus he was at the bottom of the stairs crying over the marked piece of paper. He approached him slowly but Severus stood up, brushing him away.
"She's gone." Severus said, not capable of uttering the words, dead.
"As in not coming back?" Harry asked, expecting that Hermione had left him for good.
When Severus nodded, he sighed. "You'll get her back."
It was the wrong thing to say because Severus strode away, angry. It would be two days before Harry got the meaning behind his words by this point Severus had shut everyone out cursing himself for not listening to Minerva McGonagall when he had the chance.
