Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul

A/N: And onward we forge! Over the river and through the snow— to the cabin up in the woods. Where Snape’s dead wife’s twin is with Hermione, that is until Hermione fled. Again. Alright, alright, I prefer my method of thanking my reviewers in the chapters, but as one of you has now politely requested that I post it to the review board, I’ll attempt that. So all comments to you, my lovely reader/reviewer, are posted in the review page, go there! (*doesn’t like the idea in the least but will probably vent that frustration on one of the characters, maybe someone will have an accident*) So go fetch your plot bones, all of you, and keep your questions bubbling. Who said Lucius got drunk in the wine cellar? It was merely mentioned that that was where he headed off to. No cheese, just the twisted plot structure of a melodrama, I suppose. And I know the twin thing is sort of predictable, but I’m thoroughly pleased that only one or a handful of you seemed to see it coming before it came, or rather didn’t see it coming, but theorized on it. (Of course some of you just exhaust every possibility there could be as far as theories go, in hopes that one of them might be right. :-p) Anyway, you all wanted to get back to Draco, Ginny, and Lucius? Tough luck. Try again next chapter.





The snow had stopped falling but it didn’t stop the biting sting of the wind as it nipped at Hermione’s nose. She couldn’t have stayed in the cabin a moment longer. It had been bad enough that the Lenore girl had trekked all the way up the mountain to seek her out, and what for? There wasn’t anything Hermione could do about the situation, especially not if the Malfoys were involved. Details were not on Hermione’s agenda; she didn’t need to know that Molly Weasley had somehow been involved in it all. All she wanted was to gather the root she’d come up the mountain to retrieve, and go home. Though she supposed home wasn’t really much of home anymore, an empty flat where ministry officials would be beating at her door, where the continuous onslaught of howlers and nasty letters would pour through her mail slot, and a floo where her two remaining friends, Harry and Molly, would come zipping through every chance they got in attempts to comfort her. That was not a home that was a nightmare which Hermione was keen to forget.



Thick white snow drifts were stacked up all around her as far as the eye could see. It would make the location of the grove where the root grew even more difficult to pinpoint as all of her markers from the previous day were now completely covered over by the thick ice crystals. Her boots crunched along an icy surface, and occasionally she would slip into an unnoticed drift, down to her ankle, or her kneecap, struggling for a moment before freeing herself and moving onward.



She could feel the tears freezing to her face. Why had she thought she could do this alone? And what on earth was Severus Snape, of all people, doing in the mountains? It was bad enough that his pretty little dead fiancée’s twin sister had turned up knocking on her door, but then to have the man, who she wished more than anything in the world did not exist in her plane of existence, turn up in the snow, standing dumbstruck at the sight of what he no doubt thought was his bride risen from the dead. It was all too much.



Her mind was racing with thoughts when she realized that her feet had still been moving, and for all she knew, she was pacing around in circles and had already missed the grove. She sighed. It was a wasted effort, and more than likely the root would only blow up in her face, literally, and be another failed attempt at the potion that would cure lycanthropy. There were trees on all sides of her, and she hadn’t remembered that before. The moonlight, what little there was to be had, trickled down through the thick evergreens, casting beams onto the shiny snow and illuminating the forest like something from deep inside a Christmas dream. Wind rustled through, shaking the icicles that hung low on the branches and Hermione shivered. Icicles tinkled like chimes in a glass church and she gazed up, frantically scrambling away as several long, pointy ones fell and pierced the snow where she had stood just a moment ago.



Her foot sank into the bank as she took another step back and before she knew it, Hermione had sunk down to her thigh into the deep drift of snow. She growled in frustration, trying to pull herself out, struggling against the thick packed ice crystals. Her fingers were numb as she tried to reach for her wand, but to no avail she was stuck solid in the snow. Wandless magic would have sufficed to blast her out of the snowbank, but Hermione simply closed her eyes. This was her life, alone and miserable in the far north east regions of mountainous Russia, snow holding her in place, a child she never wanted with a father who didn’t want the child either, and all the grief she’d brought to that poor man by ruining his wedding day.



Logically, somewhere inside her head, Hermione knew that it was not her fault for what had happened on his wedding day. Yes, she’d been the technical reason the marriage had not been allowed to continue, but there was no blaming anyone for what happened to Nalina, and if anyone was going to blame anyone for kick starting the events, all fingers should have been pointed at Ginny Weasley. But in her own self loathing, Hermione blamed herself. She never should have listened to Ginny, never should have gone to that church, she simply should have carried out her plan of having the boy, putting it up for adoption, and moving on.



The cold was penetrating her body and she began to shake. “So this is how it ends…” she muttered aloud. There was nothing preventing her from wandlessly blasting herself from the drift, except perhaps the motivation to continue on in her dreary life. Her eyes stayed closed, her lips turning a pale shade of blue as she leaned back and tried to make a pillow out of the white behind her head. Cold drops trickled on her face, and the snow started to fall again.



~*~



Severus had returned to the cabin after having seen no sign of Hermione outside. “Where are you going?” asked Lenore as he turned and transfigured his cape into something a fair bit thicker.



“To find that ninny,” he grumbled.



Lenore laughed. “She’s hardly been cold a week, Severus.”



“I beg your pardon?” he sneered.



“Hermione Granger, I had no idea— though of course I’m sure Nalina wouldn’t want you to mope about— but so soon?” she flushed slightly in the face. “Ah well, to each their own I suppose.”



“What in Merlin’s beard are you on about?” he growled, and transfigured the empty stew kettle into a thick furry hat. It was the most unattractive looking cap with thick flaps that covered his ears, but he cared little for appearance as he stuffed it onto his head. “Oh dear lord, you daft woman, I’m not chasing after her for that.” He turned around and stalked across the cabin, entering the bedroom and returning with one of the blankets, which he then transfigured into a pair of ill-fitting gloves. “I need her to sign the papers to get that ruddy child off my hands!” he spat.



Lenore quirked a thin silvery brow up onto her forehead, “The boy, you mean?” And Severus nodded. “But don’t you want to—”



“No, Lenore, I don’t. I have no desire to raise a child that I am nothing more than a biological donor to, that was bore onto me by a woman I hold nothing but contempt for—”



Lenore interrupted, “Contempt? Is that how you make a baby these days?” her teasing wit was all too similar to Nalina’s childish barbs when she was angry with him, and it was unsettling to say the least.



“She was drunk, I was drunk, she was disguised in a muggle nightclub. It was just after Nalina had left, she’d thrown back the goddamned ring— look, I don’t have time to stand here debating this with you. If she’s gone off to harvest that root, then there’s a chance I can still catch her before she leaves these mountains. Once she signs the papers I don’t care what happens to her, because it won’t be my problem anymore.” He turned around and opened the door, an icy gust of wind blasting into the cabin. “Bollocks,” he hissed and bent down into the wind.



“Severus!” Lenore cried. “Severus, wait!” He paused only a moment, unable to hear her, and he grumbled, pulling the heavy door to the cabin shut. Instant silence filled the room as the wind had been kept at bay on the other side of the door. He gazed at her, waiting for the girl to speak. “If— well, she doesn’t— and you don’t—” she paused and drew in a deep breath. “I’ll take the baby. I’ll take the boy.”



Severus thought for a moment. He didn’t really care who had the boy, so long as it wasn’t him. But if Hermione Granger was so insistent on not raising her own son, and the ministry was attempting to force it on him, and Lenore was more than willing to take that burden off his hands, then so be it. “Very well,” he said and then rolled his eyes.



“What?”



“Potter.” He spat. “That dolt has already offered to take the boy, though I suppose I’m not inclined to care who ends up with him, so long as it isn’t me.” He grumbled. “He’s in the care of the ministry officials, I assume, and as soon as I can track down Granger to have her sign the forms, he is yours.” He said. He’d deal with Potter later.



“Ministry officials?” she frowned. “All this time without a scrap of motherly affection? Oh goodness,” Lenore walked over to him. “I know that I’m a recent addition to your life, and I don’t have to be a part of it, I can understand the memory of her seen in my face might be too painful for you, especially now when everything is so fresh…but that poor child,” she said and reached her hand out to him. “What if I were to go the ministry now, and request to guard over the baby in your stead? Just until the papers are signed, and everything is official?”



“I don’t care what you do,” he said and waved his hand dismissively at her.



Lenore tried to hide her smile. “Alright, then I’m off.” She rushed out into the heavy wind, and apparated with a pop. Severus sighed. One less thing to worry about, but the burden of that boy was still heavy on his shoulders, at least until he could find Hermione Granger and force her to sign those papers. With determination renewed, he stalked out of the cabin and began trekking through the snow, heading toward the woods.