Severus didn’t turn up for breakfast next morning, which was the twenty-fourth already. Even Luna couldn’t help stating her concern.
“Curious, don’t you think?”, she aspirated when they left the hall to take a little walk up to the Astronomy Tower, but after that moment last night, Hermione didn’t actually wonder. “Have you seen Professor Burbage’s look? She seems to be worried about Professor Snape as well. One would think that now, after Professor Slughorn has recovered from his drunkenness, Professor Snape must have calmed down. But it looks like he really is busy. I wonder what it is.”
“I can remember having heard him saying to Professor McGonagall that he had to sort all his possessions.”, Hermione lied.
“Is that so? Hmm. I can understand. Sometimes I have to do that as well. My stuff happens to rearrange itself in a very peculiar way every now and then. If I want to find something, I have to sort everything anew.”
“Are you sure it’s your things and not – other people messing up your things?”
“Oh, no, no. People do hide some of my clothes once in a while, mostly shoes, but they aren’t as rude as to completely rearrange my order.”, Hermione wasn’t fully convinced, but rather felt sorry for her.
Meanwhile, someone stood on the Astronomy Tower, letting his eyes drift over the snowy landscape. The sky was grey again and snow was falling. In the distance, a Thestral rose from the trees and landed in another part of the forest. Holding his arms tight around his own upper body, he leaned onto the parapet, taking a look down to the grounds. No one was outside. It was too cold. The wind blew some snowflakes into his long black hair, making it and his black cloak sway gently. He shivered. Still deeply in thoughts, he didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching from below. Not until –
“It is really cold up here now. But I love the view.”, Luna told Hermione.
“I actually don’t come up here too often.”, the other admitted. “Other than for lessons.”
“You should. It’s beautiful.”
Recognising their voices, he rushed around, seeing the girls coming onto the highest platform and around the movable, three-dimensional celestial map. Both of them froze, noticing him standing there.
“Oh! Good morning, Professor Snape!”, Luna sang. “Hermione and I were wondering why you haven’t been at breakfast. But now I can understand. I would quit breakfast as well, just for enjoying the view from up here.”, she actually meant that, Hermione considered.
He however, only looked at Hermione, turned to black fog and flew off as fast as he could, becoming invisible after some yards so they wouldn’t really know where he went.
“Fascinating.”, Luna beamed. “I didn’t know he can fly like this. It’s said to be a lot more difficult than Apparition. But since he can become fully invisible without Death’s cloak, it might actually be very easy for him to fly. He has a much stronger mind than I expected.”
~~#~~
Slughorn was back for lunch, apparently not knowing what had happened the day before. So he complained every now and then that McGonagall had straight away forbidden the Houseelves to serve anything containing alcohol. Hermione just wondered where Severus had gone, when he suddenly came walking through the Great Hall’s main door. Without paying attention to any head turning, he paced right past everyone, directly towards McGonagall. Arriving in front of her, he gave her an envelope.
“That was delivered to the wrong door.”, Hermione heard him saying monotonously.
“Severus, m’boy.”, Slughorn cheered. “Why don’t you sit down and eat with us?”
A snort and he turned on the heels, walking back between the students’ tables. She knew that this could end in a disaster, but she felt the need to do at least something.
“Coward.”, she mumbled, though loud enough to make him stop instantly.
“Pardon?”, he turned to her, frowning at the back of her head across the Gryffindor table.
“You understood me quite well, Professor.”, Hermione hissed, taking her last spoon full of rice and pushed the plate away, signalling the Houseelves to clear her place.
“Is there anything you would like to tell me, Miss Granger?”, he said slowly, like always when he was about to do down a student and just waiting for one more reason.
“Yes, Sir. Plenty. Sure, you might have your reasons, but it’s not like you can’t trust me, right? After all you said yourself – oh and besides, he used to be your teacher. But now he’s your colleague. You cannot tell me that you aren’t some sort of coward, being unable to deal with friendly people.”
“Mind your tongue.”, he hissed. “Or – ”
“Or what?”, her head flung around, somewhat pretended fury all over her face. “Brave enough to threat students with detention, aren’t we?”, he was visibly stunned by her courage. “You may – ”, she put her hand down her bag, “Take fifty points from Gryffindor, if you can prove that you aren’t a coward.”, she slammed her new, closed chess board onto the already empty table space in front of her, moans coming from inside as she did so.
“Wizard Chess?”, he watched her preparing the board.
“You want war, you can have it.”, she panted.
He scarcely noticeable checked the hall. All eyes were on him. Sighing, he easily walked over the benches and tables and sat down opposite to her.
“Fifty points, Granger, if you manage to win.”, in no time, everyone gathered around them, completely forgetting about the afters.
“Well, Sir. White moves first.”, she smiled mischievous.
“As if I wouldn’t know.”, his look was totally frightening.
Like paralysed, everybody watched them play. Half an hour later, Hermione almost regretted having called him a coward. With a blood chilling persistence he had slain almost all of her blue pieces. She panicked. Would he really take off fifty points? Other than that, it had been a nicely challenging game. Far more interesting than watching Harry and Ron play.
“That was a brilliant one!”, Luna cheered.
“Thank you.”, he grumbled, not sounding too pleased – Hermione had given him check only once less than he had given her.
“Knight to E seven.”, Hermione sighed, seeing no other way to defend her king against his queen.
“Queen to E seven.”, he said, rather bored, looking at his fingernails while Hermione’s second knight got smashed off the board with joyful laughter of the few remaining Slytherins. “Check.”
“Castle to E seven, if you prefer it this way.”, she smirked.
“What?”
His eyes gaped. Had he really not seen that alley?
“You cannot kill my queen!”, he moaned.
“As a matter of fact, I can. Sir.”, her look when she removed the shards of his queen from the board was none other than the grin of a hungry Werewolf. “Check.”
“King to D one.”, he panted, knowing that it was the only move possible – and his end.
“Second – “, not believing the situation, she stared at the board. “Pawn to E two – ”, Hermione aspirated. “Ch-checkmate? Oh my god – checkmate!”, she couldn’t – she just – “I won! I – killed a king with a pawn!”, she whispered, drowned by everyone’s applause, only the Slytherins and Severus didn’t clap, of course.
“Well, congratulations on your fifty points, Miss Granger.”, he murmured. “Your luck is strikingly amazing.”
“Luck?”, Slughorn chuckled. “That was great talent, Miss Granger presented us with!”, he boasted.
But Severus ignored him. Hermione’s head followed him, leaving the hall through the main door. She couldn’t see in which direction he went, nor could she get up. People were patting her shoulders and back. With a mix of sadness, anger and frustration, she flicked her wand for repairing the chess pieces and packed everything.
“If you excuse me,”, she said over the still lasting applause, making it die down, “I just remembered having to sort a very big mess among my papers. Luna, see you at dinner.”, somehow she managed to drill her way through the small crowd, out of the hall.
“That was a fantastic game, wasn’t it?”, Luna said, drawing everybody’s attention on her when she noticed that Hermione was heading for the Dungeons.
“Indeed, Miss Lovegood.”, Slughorn laughed. “Absolutely fantastic.”
“Yes.”, agreed Burbage, but Hermione clearly heard dejection in her voice. “I can’t recall there’s ever been a match he’d lost.”
As fast as she could, she ran downstairs, coming to halt in front of Severus’ office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked four times. No answer. She waited a few seconds and knocked harder. Still no answer. Curling her lips, she pushed down the handle – locked. Hating herself, she got out her wand and pointed it on the lock.
“Alohomora.”, nothing. “Annihilare.”, still no sound. “What the – ?”, she pushed the handle again, but the door wouldn’t open. “Fine, you moron. Dunamis.”, same reaction: no reaction. “Now you can’t be meaning this, Severus.”, Hermione he moaned, whispering. “Aperire Portis.”, she hissed unsuccessfully. “Aperire Hoc Ostium.”, the door remained locked. “Are you kidding me? I’m already trying to invent spells! Recludam!”, fortunately she was still alone. “Why won’t you open, you stupid door?”, she whimpered, rattling the handle, her wand still pointed at the lock. “Permitte me intrare.”, she was close to running out of Latin and wished that Harry’s knife hadn’t melted in the Department of Mysteries – but even if not, she might not have considered borrowing it beforehand. “Recludam Portis? Oh come on, please – Recludam Ostium?”, it finally clicked. “You loathsome cockroach.”, she grunted. “You are so going to regret this one day.”
Knowing that if he was in there, he would have noticed already that someone wanted to enter, she didn’t even bother to move the door quietly. She pushed it open and found the office abandoned – though without the supposed mess. He must have already sorted his things, unlike her. The room was only lit by the gloomy light coming through the water outside the thick window. The ice above and the overcast sky blocked a lot of light. Just to make sure no one might accidentally enter, she pointed her wand on the door.
“Colloportus.”, that would do for now, she could try a counter spell according to his madness later.
A secret door, she thought, walking along the shelves. There – a book of cake recipes between history books? That didn’t fit at all, did it? Hesitantly she tried to pull, but it got stuck, being half tilted out. There was a rattling and the shelf slowly swung open, revealing a dark room.
“Lumos.”, Hermione whispered, holding her wand up high.
No windows. A stone floor like outside, large bookshelves at the walls, another door, a wardrobe, a bed with white bed sheets, pillow and blanket opposite to the secret door and against the wall, a small chest of drawers standing next to its head. An old chandelier was hanging from the – soft blue ceiling. She noticed a moving photo of Lily Potter smiling from the chest of drawers, right beside an old black alarm clock. But one thing drew her attention the most: one of the shelf-free spaces at the wall in front of her. Neat piles of paper on top, stood an old black upright piano. That was totally surprising to her. She had never thought about whether he liked music, and if, what kind of, nor that he could actually play an instrument as well.
“Severus?”, she asked. “Are you here?”, nothing.
Curious on what more to find, she walked to the dark wooden door and opened it. The bathroom was half as big as the bedroom and lined with white tiles. It contained a white toilet seat, a shower, and a white water basin with a simple, big enough mirror and a little lamp above it. White towels on a bar. Next to the mirror hung a slim white shelf with three boards. Shaving utensils, nail scissor, brush, a little metal box, a glass with a toothbrush and – an obviously impregnated linen tube. Hermione took it and snuffed. Spearmint toothpaste, self-made, apparently. She frowned. He really hadn’t pretended to like spearmint. But – she then picked up a glass bottle which contained a kind of thick liquid he must have made himself as well, pulled out the stopper and sniffed again. Apricot shampoo? And another surprise. She wondered if she would ever stop discovering more and more things about him she would have never dared to expect.
“Severus?”, she repeated, taking another look around after she had settled the bottle how it had been standing.
Slightly disappointed, she dropped her shoulders, left his private rooms like she had found them and meant to walk out of the office counter clockwise around his desk, when one of her feet sank in a little. There was another rattle and a whole shelf moved forward, then to the side, making her mouth fall open with amazement about what she had just found unintentionally. Behind the shelf was an alcove, containing a small table and more shelves taking in the space. On the table stood a brass gramophone and the hidden shelves were filled with records. The piano in the back chamber had already marvelled her, but seeing this locked away, she knew he wasn’t fond of admitting he listened to music at all. Or –
Licking her lips once, she went to the shelves and partly pulled out a random record. John Lee Hooker. The ones around it were by the same musician. There was also Slim Harpo in the near. Further up left, she could find the Beatles, a bit down was Aretha Franklin and very low to the right, Talking Heads, The Walker Brothers, Dionne Warwick and even The Who. He had sorted them alphabetical. She just felt like giving it a try.
“Oh my god.”, she aspirated – there was a whole collection of Elvis Presley. “Now I know why you hide that.”, she giggled. “It’s a treasure!”
Of course she knew she couldn’t get them all out, but after examining more records, she was certain that she wouldn’t find music of witches or wizards in there. Somehow she felt remorse. No, she thought, he was not going to pay for locking his door so viciously. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto that stone in the floor and the shelf moved back in place. With a ravished smile, she unlocked the front door again. Standing outside, her wand on the lock of the closed door like before, she sighed the only option she could think about.
“Cataracta Ostium.”, it clicked. “Recludam Ostium.”, she only said to check; it worked. “Cataracta Ostium.”
Hoping she would find him there, she went up to the Astronomy Tower. All others must have returned to their common rooms and offices. The only living being she bumped into on her way up, was Mrs Norris, lurking in an empty corridor, mewing as she watched Hermione pass by.
She really never went on the tower except for lessons or exams. But today she had been up twice, for reasons she would have never thought possible.
“Severus?”, she called out loud, though only flushing a crow which flew off, complaining about having been disturbed. “Severus – if you’re here – ”, Hermione moaned.
There was still no answer but the sighing of the wind around the tower. She stepped forward to the parapet and looked down, seeking for any movement on the visible parts of the Black Lake’s shore. Not a thing. Nevertheless she turned and hurried down to the Entrance Hall, got on her cap, scarf and gloves and left the castle for Hagrid’s. Before she reached the hut, she ran into the woods, praying in her mind she would find the right way.
Faster and faster she hurried down the hill, chess pieces clattering and groaning in her bag. Finally she reached the flat shore, only able to stop herself by running straight into a tree. The tree, as she noticed when she stepped around, panting heavily. But she was alone.
“Severus?”, almost crying, she turned her head round. “Severus! Please – if you are here – show yourself!”, yet no answer or other reaction. “Please.”
Hermione sank to the ground and leant against the wall of roots, crying at last. She had no clue why she cried or for how long. She only knew that by the time she had raised, her whole body was cold and trembling. Angry with herself, she made her way back up to the school.
When she left the forest; wondering how she could have possibly found the right direction back as well; in front of Hagrid’s garden, the big bells rang six o’clock. Half chuckling, half crying again, the strange impression that she had reduced her life to living from one meal to another, came to her. Literally shaking it off, she went on, her feet, thighs and lungs aching already.
Completely exhausted, she entered the warm Great Hall. Like always at Christmas Eve, the benches and tables had been moved to the walls and a round table with chairs had been placed in the middle of the hall, big enough for the exact number of people who would be there. And everyone was there. Everyone who had been there since the beginning of the holidays. No more, no l- well, one less. There were two empty chairs, both between Burbage and Luna. That girl was really not as far away with her mind as people believed.
“Miss Granger!”, expectantly, Slughorn sang, sitting opposite to the empty chairs. “At last! We thought you wouldn’t come, so we started already. Hope, it doesn’t bother you.”
“Not at all, Sir.”, Hermione shrugged and comforted herself to Luna’s right.
“By the way, have you happened to run into Severus?”, with shock, their meet in the corridor, eight months ago popped into her mind.
“No, Sir. As I said before leaving, I had work to do.”
“Outside?”, asked Burbage.
“What?”
“You look like you did that work outside.”, her look couldn’t have been less sceptical and Hermione noticed that she still wore hat, scarf and gloves, which she took off and carefully stuffed into her bag.
“I took a walk afterwards. Needed some fresh air.”
“Very well, Miss Granger.”, continued Slughorn. “A Happy Christmas to you. Enjoy our little feast.”, apparently, McGonagall’s ban of alcohol was still active, because – “Though it’s a shame. Couldn’t we just let them bring us one bottle of wine? For the festive reason?”
“No.”, McGonagall replied coldly. “Teachers are supposed to be role models for the students. In my opinion, drinking alcohol whilst celebrating a family feast like Christmas, would give a very bad impression and influence them in a negative way. Not to think of the parents’ reactions if they’d get to know.”
“My parents are dead, Professor.”, said a seventh-year Slytherin. “I wouldn’t mind some booze so I could raise my glass on them.”, there was a subdued laugh going around.
“Your parents would be more proud if you raised a glass of blueberry juice instead, Mr O’Nelly.” McGonagall snapped back and Hermione knew that the only festive thing about the Christmas Dinner would be the decoration in the hall.
“He’s not coming, is he?”, Luna whispered to Hermione.
“I don’t think so.”, the latter whispered back. “I haven’t seen him. He wasn’t in his office or on the tower.”
“Have you tried his favourite place at the Black Lake?”
“How d’you – ?”
“I have seen him walking down there sometimes.”, Luna explained.
“Oh. But no, he wasn’t there either.”
“Maybe he was invisible?”
“If he had been, I think he would have shown himself to me.”
“You think, hmm?”, she tilted her head with a smile like a little know-it-all.
“Quite, yes.”
“Strange.”, Luna lost her smile and continued eating.
“You’d better take into account who exactly you’re talking about there.”, Burbage whispered from the corner of her mouth and Hermione pricked up her ears. “Luna’s right. If he doesn’t want to be found, you won’t even find him if your noses are almost touching.”
With a sigh, Hermione decided to accept that Burbage was right. It had been too naïve of her to think she would possibly find him. And now she also regretted that she had kept her coat on. Opening the buttons alone wasn’t compensating the warmth in the hall.
As assumed, the following conversations had nothing delightful to them and topics were too often pushed aside with an embarrassing silence. Hermione; like Luna; couldn’t await desert, though for different reasons.
“How fascinating.”, Luna stared at the vanilla and strawberry flummery she had just put onto her plate. “The colours of my flummery form the shape of a Vervain flower.”
“Honestly, no one’s interested in what your pudding looks like.”, groaned a Slytherin girl.
“Miss Gladdisson,”, McGonagall warned.
“It really looks like Vervain.”, considered Hermione, leaning over to look at the flummery.
“Except Granger.”, Gladdisson mumbled.
“Did you by the way know, that Salazar Slytherin liked the Vervain? He didn’t like flowers at all, but he was quite fond of this particular one.”
“Tz.”
Taking her eyes off the flummery, Hermione noticed a big bowl in front of herself. It contained dark chocolate cream, a little spearmint leaf throned on top. Eyes gaping, she put a bit onto her plate and tried it. It tasted amazing! And – like spearmint as well! She slightly blushed, looking out for another bowl like it – and found two more. So it had only been coincidence. Or had it?
After eating half of it, she gave up. Too good, but also too much. The other bowls of it remained barely untouched.
“I think I’ll be leaving.”, she sighed.
“Already?”, Madam Sprout asked, still suffering from her cold.
“Yes. I – I’m a bit tired. Um – would anyone mind if I took that with me just in case I’d want some more?”, she pointed at her bowl of cream, getting some bored gestures as answers. “Well, Merry Christmas then, to all of you.”
Only those who liked her – or better, those who didn’t dislike her, wished back, Slughorn and Luna being loudest. She threw her bag around her shoulder, grabbed the bowl including the spoon in it and left, straight for the Dungeons, where she could finally take off her coat.
The corridor which was lit by blue burning torches, seemed to be endless. After what felt to her like an hour, she finally arrived at the door, swallowing. A glance at the bowl – she gasped. It looked horrible. The leaf was still on top of the part she hadn’t touched, but the rest was total chaos. Hastily she knelt down, picked up the spearmint leaf, evened the cream with the spoon, wiped the edges of the bowl clean with a finger which she licked afterwards, placed the leaf in the middle of the surface and stuck the spoon in. Sighing, she raised, adjusted her bag, the coat over her left arm – and her hair. A last look at the bowl on her right hand and she knocked four times.
Somehow she had expected the silence. Stronger knocking, same result as earlier. Frustrated she hammered on the door. Nothing. She let out a groan of anger. Though ruthless, since she had done it already, she opened the door with his wicked new incantation. Like before, the room was lifeless and now stark dark. In the little light of the torches shining in, Hermione went over to his desk, put down the bowl, pulled out the parcel from beneath – simply everything in her large bag and placed it in front, slightly straightening the paper. He would find it, eventually. He definitely would, she – hoped.
Locking the office once more, she went back through the corridor she had come through. Though, right in the middle, she stopped. There was a noise – it – sounded like – water. That was new. Or had she just never noticed it? She pricked up her ears. Yes, it came from her left. Thoughtfully, she examined the blue lit stone wall. There. What was – ? She took a closer look. A little snake, like on the Slytherin banner, was engraved in the corner of one brick. This must be it, she thought. Slytherin’s – little paradise. Looking up and down the corridor to check whether she was alone, she only hoped the password wouldn’t be tapping the bricks in a precise order or a word in Parseltongue. But there was a voice in her head: `Did you by the way know, that Salazar Slytherin liked the –
“Vervain.”, Hermione pronounced it clearly.
The bricks ironically started to move like those at the entrance to Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron, when one touched them in the right way. The sound of the water grew louder, but the room behind the now stable arch was pitch black. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped in. Suddenly the big, high room lit gloomily and the wall behind her closed. The soft light was white, yet its source undetectable. According to the shadows, it was supposed to be coming from above, but the arched ceiling became darker with height.
The room itself looked like a rectangular cave. Its walls were made of natural dark grey rock and the floor of the same stone plates as the corridors outside, only – dark grey. More flat rocks were placed all around the big pool, which took in almost all of the floor. The stone tile floor around it was only about three and a half feet broad. Grass green plants were hanging from between some rocks on the walls and at the end face of the pool was a very big, high rock. A nice, strong waterfall poured down from its top, filling the pool with clear, warm water. The pool itself, being guessed four yards deep, was lined with little dark green and occasional silver mosaic tiles, making it look like a blue-green night sky. Apart from sitting space at the entrance side of it, the pool was equally deep everywhere.
The room was, in fact, a little paradise. Hermione was in trouble with herself. Should she – ? Or should she not? After thinking for about a minute, she couldn’t resist anymore. So she dropped her bag and coat and undressed. Completely naked, she carefully climbed into the pool and sat down. The water reached her collarbones and was as comfortably warm as she had expected.
“Merry Christmas, Hermione.”, she said to herself aloud, leaning her head back and looking at the dark ceiling with a broad smile. “And to you as well, Mr Slytherin. You weren’t as bad as everyone thinks, lastly.”
~~#~~
With a flick of his wand, he entered his office and lightened the fireplace with another. Locking the door sighing, he went to his desk and took off his cloak – which glided to the floor, the moment he noticed the things on his desk. Chocolate cream? And – a parcel? Second one looked soft, like a cushion. And the cream – he picked up the golden bowl and sniffed – dark chocolate and spearmint! Grinding his teeth unsure, he wondered whether – had it been her? Had she actually broken into his office just to – he put down the bowl and went for a plate, as well as three tiny bottles of differently coloured, transparent liquid. Then he made three small heaps of cream on the plate, put two drops of each liquid in a different heap and waited. Nothing happened. Whoever had presented him with the cream, hadn’t intended to poison him. So he washed the probes down the sink and put back the supplies.
With a mixed feeling, he picked up the parcel. It was rather light and as soft as he had considered it to be, telling from the shape. He put it back down and carefully tore the black paper. Something woollen. Byzantium. And shiny white – snowflakes? Stars? Something like that. There was a small folded paper on top. Slowly he took and unfolded it, immediately recognising Hermione’s handwriting.
Dear Severus
All during knitting it, I tried to find words I could write onto this paper, coming to the conclusion that the words I want to say to you are neither many, nor big, but they are coming from the very bottom of my heart.
Thank you!
And – Merry Christmas.
Yours, Hermione
P.S.: I’m sorry, if you don’t like the stars. Luna Lovegood helped me finishing it and insisted on them She thought, they would – cheer you up.
A weary smile slipped him. It had been a very long time since he had gotten a present from anyone but Charity; even Igor had made himself scarce. He put the letter aside and started to pull the scarf up slowly. It was actually very beautifully knitted and no, he didn’t bother the stars. Feeling the cosiness and softness of the wool, made him a little teary. Holding the scarf with both hands, he closed his eyes, buried his nose and mouth in it and inhaled. At first with a little hesitation, but when nothing happened, he breathed in deeply.
It smelled like – freshly bought wool. A sort of wool that would not turn his nose into a depot of fireworks that developed a life of its own. Had the choice been hers? Or Luna’s? Somehow he feared it was the second option. Not opening his eyes, he raised an eyebrow with a surprised smile though. She had really just made it. But there was also something else to it. Partly, the smell seemed familiar. He opened the upper buttons of his robe and shirt and wrapped the scarf around his neck, knotting it at the front. It was amazingly comfortable to wear and she had even guessed the length right.
Half sitting on his desk, he took the bowl, reading a specific line again: coming from the very bottom of my heart.
“Thank you too, Hermione.”
He ate the first spoon full of cream and shut his eyes with delight. No, he thought after the second spoon. There was a better place to enjoy it..
~~#~~
Dazed, she still had her head tilted back. She had never felt better. Nothing could change her mood right now. After all she didn’t really expect Dumbledore to return to school already. Though right when her thoughts fell on the Headmaster, the bricks behind started cluttering.
Her eyes shot open with horror. Splashing water, she rushed around, reached for her wand in her bag, flicked her stuff to the corner and dove down, performing a Bubble-Head Charm. Hoping she wouldn’t be seen, she sat down at the bottom of the pool, squeezing herself to the wall of the sitting-pedestal.
The first thing he noticed was that the light was on already. Had he returned? Looking around, he could see no one. But then, in the moment the last brick sat firmly in place, he spotted a heap of clothes in the left door-side corner. Very familiar clothes, actually – and pink underwear he hadn’t seen before, of course. Her clothes carelessly hurtled into the corner and no sight of her could mean only one thing.
He went to the messy heap, took off his shoes and put the socks into them. As his shoes were placed evenly, he unbuttoned his robe, folded it carefully and laid it on top of the black pair. That, he did with all of his clothes, one piece after another, forming an exactly straight pile so it wouldn’t tilt over and end up like her mess. On the very top, he put his new scarf. Blinking, he threw a last glance at her underwear and slowly went over to the pool, his wand and the bowl in the right hand, placed the bowl at the edge, got in and sat down. Resting his arms on the rocks around the water, he gave the air a stir and golden writing of light appeared in front of him. He then sent the text floating to the ground of the pool.
Hermione pulled the bubble over her eyes so she could see better. A pair of feet was dangling down. Male feet. Of course. Surprisingly – beautiful – male – feet. He had his legs crossed. The shining letters came to rest an arm’s length away from her. She read.
Dear Hermione.
You may sit down there as long as you wish.
Nevertheless, I would prefer thanking you personally for your wonderful present.
Yours, Severus.
P.S.: Nice underwear.
She flushed. Nice – ? What? Looking up, she saw him moving the toes of his left foot – waving to her, four quick times, making the golden ring on one of them glisten. Damn, she thought. Well, at least it wasn’t Dumbledore. That made explanations easier. Yet a little upset, she pushed herself back up to the surface, breaking the writing into thousands of glistening, fading sparks, only to find him smiling very satisfied. She wiped her face dry, took a seat to his left, crossed her legs as well and covered her breasts by crossing her arms in front of them, very demonstratively. Slightly upset, she stared straight into his pleased eyes, not willing to say a word. But he broke their silence anyway.
“Thank you.”, he whispered softly, just loud enough to be audible over the splashing of the waterfall.
She sighed and calmed a bit, though not moving her arms or legs, wondering how he could be so relaxed. Yes, the water was very relaxing, but –
“You’re welcome.”, she replied. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. I only thought I’d better enjoy this absolutely delicious cream with a warm bath. After all, even you thought I’d deserve some luxury for Christmas.”, he nodded to his pile of clothes and Hermione saw the scarf on top.
“Sorry about the stars.”
“No worries. I like them, really. It is nice of her – wanting to cheer me up,”
“That was how I actually got her to help me. She felt sorry for you, seeing you running away from Slughorn. I – offered her my help by asking for her help, so to say.”, he nodded.
“You may send my thanks to her as well.”
“Okay.”
“How did you discover the password?”
“Luna let slip through that Slytherin was said to have liked Vervain. But I don’t think she knows about this room.”
“Maybe she does. I bet, like Albus, she had just asked the ghosts.”
“The ghosts?”
“Yes. Luna often talks to the ghosts of the castle. She is far more intelligent than you might be willing to believe.”
“Yeah. I realised that in the past few days. Once you accept her way of thinking, you can’t get around noticing that she knows a load about how things go in detail. Though she doesn’t seem to know yet that we have in fact become friends. Besides, where have you been? I was really worried.”
“Charming.”, he very slightly blushed and avoided her eyes. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I was only trying not to run into Horace – and to get a Christmas present for you.”, he admitted, blushing more.
“You – got a – ”, Hermione was stunned.
“Yes. But I’d better not give it to you in the pool. Once outside the pouch, it might get damaged by the water.”
She noticed the shrunken pouch now hanging on a black leather band around his neck, resting on his chest along with a small silver locket on a thin silver chain. On another, a pair of plain, silvery rings. Other than that, she couldn’t help seeing now that he was a little muscular. Not much, but just enough to look good, yet normal. Still all in all he could be considered rather thin. And there was some black hair spread over his chest.
“What’s in there?”, she nodded at the locket.
Severus finally dropped his wand on the floor, took the waterproof locket between his fingers, opening it with ease. He held it above the surface so Hermione could see the two tiny moving photos better. Both were in pale colour and obviously of the same two people, having taken the photos themselves. The right photo showed two children with differently coloured ties of their Hogwarts uniforms, barely to be seen at the bottom. Both were grinning broadly. They must have had taken it during their first year, according to how young they looked. The photo on the lid had been made at a later time. They appeared to be in their early twenties, he looking much younger and less exhausted and she exactly like on photos Hermione had seen in an album Harry had gotten from Hagrid, as well as on the photo beside Severus’ bed. On the one in the locket however, was a third happy looking person: a baby child she had also seen on Hagrid’s photos and in that strange dream before: Harry.
“They’re always with me.”, Severus smiled, closed the locket, let it sink onto his chest, slid down, pushed himself off the pedestal then and dove over to the waterfall.
Curling her lips in sadness, she let her arms slip down on her thighs. It was cruel, she thought. He had loved her so deeply. They had a wonderful son. But she was gone. Out of reach. Forcing himself to deny his son so he could protect him – a very gruesome logic. Always swallowing down his feelings – pretending to hate everyone and everything while he was actually a rather cheerful man – what kind of life was that?
She turned her head to their clothes. His pile was neat. Not half an inch out of line. Not supposed to put a toe over the boarder. Flawless. Slippery. Slick. Making no mistake. Having no freedom. A cage. A big cage with a heavy roof, supported by loose, thin bars. Every attempt to reach out could make it collapse and bury him. Everything would have been in vain then; risk the welfare of the only remains of Lily and their love for each other.
But why? Why her? Why did he trust her? How could he think she had possibly enough control of herself to not make his cage collapse? Had he – enough control for both of them?
She turned to the waterfall, seeing him beckoning her with his index finger, catching her attention. Hermione half swam, half dove to him. When she reached the waterfall, he was gone. Curiously, she swam through the clear – shockingly cool – shower, finding him sitting on a rock in the warm water behind, the surface at around his navel. He had placed his hands on the rock to his sides, dangling his legs like a child who sat on a kitchen table, watching their mother baking a cake, only that he looked down on her, studying her as she wiped back her hair. His own was hanging in thick, dripping bundles, the drops causing little circles to form when they hit the water in front of him.
“Wicked magic.”, Hermione threw a quick glance back at the waterfall. “What’s with that pile?”, she then asked. “Does it have to be so – exact? Why do you have your clothes always so – precise? Is it necessary?”
“One would think you were ten years younger.”, he snorted. “Well, I don’t really like to see my possessions messed up.”, she hesitated, then reached for his head and tousled his hair with her right hand, making him laugh. “I said, my possessions. I don’t possess my hair. My hair possesses me.”, Hermione chuckled a little annoyed – why did he always find something to talk himself out? “As for the piles, you could take those for a nice example – a teacher’s pile compared to a student’s pile.”, she let her hand sink onto his left shoulder.
“No. Rather; taken, you actually need to have it this way; you, relaxed, compared to me, in panic.”, she hissed.
“There was no reason for you to panic.”, he smiled vaguely. “Even if you had hidden yourself behind here, I would have spotted your clothes and you know that I have seen you naked before. So, why?”
“I expected Dumbledore.”
“Oh.”, he laughed. “No. He won’t return before January. Besides, the only thing he would have cared for, would have been your reason to be here, not your body.”
“Sure.”, she sighed. “He might be above such things.”
“More than you think. A lot more.”
“What are you driving at?”, Hermione eyeballed his smirk.
“I honestly should not talk about it, but what to lose, considering what I already told you? Still you must swear not to let it – slip through. Especially not in front of Harry. He might understand things wrong, if he knew.”
“Of course I won’t say. What is it?”
“Just in case, you haven’t heard it from me.”, he warned. “Well, Albus is gay.”, her response was a shocked face.
“G-gay?”, she stammered after what appeared like hours. “But – I always imagined him – having grandchildren, somewhere – ”, she though then remembered the fight about who would buy them tampons and suddenly everything he had said to Burbage afterwards – made – sense –
“No, he was never interested in women.”
“I really know nothing about the world I used to live in for the past five and a half years.”, moaned Hermione.
“Oh you do know a lot about this world. Just not – ”, he took her right hand; still having lied on his shoulder; and held it tight, “All private details.”, she closed her fingers around his, making both hands rest on his collar bone. “Can you stand?”, she nodded. “But not very comfortable with your hand up that high, am I right?”
“It’s okay.”
He glided down a bit so he was standing on the same part of the rock, leaning back. Then he moved his hand loosely on her wrist, his thumb on the back of her hand and placed his chin on the now empty gape between her thumb and index finger, closing his eyes. Hermione watched his calm breathing for a while, until she laid her left arm around his other shoulder, snuggling her head into his neck, eyes shut as well. She felt his free hand tenderly gliding up her back, stopping at her right shoulder. They were back at where they had been exactly two years ago, only many floors deeper and – wearing much less.
Yet, after what seemed to have been a whole night and day, he suddenly tilted his head against hers, making her startle up in surprise, even though he had done it back then as well. Their wet hair pushed into their faces by this, they could hardly see each other. Without realising what she did, she wiped his hair behind his right ear. Following, he carefully stroked back her wet strands by reaching over her left shoulder from behind, since she still had her arm lying where she had placed it before having leant onto him. Done, he rested his hand on her left cheek, his forehead against hers. Their noses touched. Eyes closed once more, she felt his warm breath on her lips. Then – he let go, took a deep breath, slid off the rock and vanished on the other side of the waterfall.
Slightly fretted again, she hammered her flat hand against the rock, then her fist – and rubbed it in pain, even more angry. Squinting her eyes and dropping her head with disappointment, she heard her own voice in her mind. What did you expect? What did you actually ex- her eyes flung open. There was something soft on her left cheek. A soft pair of lips. A smile – and he was gone once more. She saw him diving away.
“What?”, Hermione muttered.
~~#~~
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