The New Life | By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14592 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and I don't earn anything from these stories. |
Godric's Hollow
She’s nagging me again. Honestly, one week together and she’s acting like we’ve been married for decades. Where are we going, Why are we back in England, Do I have to come? Honestly, I feel just about ready to throw myself off of a building.
We’re on our way to my cottage in Godric’s Hollow. I know, it’s kind of asking for trouble to live in that godforsaken town but after the war I was so sick and tired of Spinner’s End, I packed everything I own and relocated to the first nice home available. Right down the street from Lily’s monument, two blocks away from the Potter house.
It’s ironic that when I wish to finally leave my hometown, and the view of the park where I met her, and a view of the home she was born in, that the only available house which is up to my standards would be that close to where she died, with a view of her grave from my attic window.
“Severus?”
Merlin, here she goes again. I barely noticed she stopped talking, but then, you never know what you have until you lose it, do you? In this case, blissful silence.
“What?” I snap. My patience truly is running thin today. It might have something to do with the fact that I’m forced to attend a Christmas ball tonight. Something I really, really, really do not want to do. But alas, it’s Christmas, and my best friend asked me to come. So I will. And if I’m forced to stand in a corner and play hero all night, she’s going to come with me. Maybe it’ll distract the guests a little, and just maybe, they’ll leave me alone and bother her. Yeah, and Grawp’s a Gringotts goblin.
In passing, I pick a flower out of Potter’s garden. I always do, it just seems fitting, I guess. Before he moved in I would never have pegged him for the roses kind of guy, but there you are. I detest them, but then, I’m not picking it for myself am I?
A feeling tells me I’ve lost Granger somewhere down the street. I don’t care, she knows the town, she’ll find me, probably. And if she doesn’t, I’ll find her. She’s not getting out of this one just because she got herself lost.
I stalk up the street, pass my house and do the one thing I just can’t seem to get out of my system.
Approaching the statue, I nod at her, which is stupid, it’s a statue, and leave the single red rose at her feet. I’m not sure why I still do it, but I do, every time I come home, I go to see her first. Only for a moment. And then I move on. Dumbledore’s portrait assured me it is part of the grieving process and a sign that I’m finally getting on with my life. I’m sure it is. The infuriating man, even dead, is never wrong is he?
I turn away from the statue and scan the street to see if I can find Granger. Right, I should’ve known. They’re staring at me from across the street, Granger still on the sidewalk, Potter and Remus standing in the garden in front of Potter’s home. Remus is busy with some intricate spell directed at the rosebushes, but Potter waves at me. Just great. I stalk back at them, my face blank, as though nothing out of the ordinary happened, and silently daring the boy to make a comment. Granger is just staring.
It somehow bothers me a little that the things I do which seem so normal to me, still make her stare at me as though I’ve grown another head. I do sincerely hope she doesn’t take the gesture to mean I’m a nice person. I’m not. Lily has always been my exception.
Remus smiles at me and I simply nod his way. Potter doesn’t smile. He beams. Bugger.
“At least that explains why my roses keep disappearing. I have to admit I never noticed where they went. I never go near the blasted thing.” The boy shrugs. “If I keep away far enough I’ll never have to look at it. Seeing myself every time I walk by is horrid. Actually, creepy, is what it is.”
I feel the need to gag watching Remus smile and affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair.
I turn to Granger and look her sternly in the eye.
“One hour, no more. Have some lunch, it will safe me from having to feed you, and afterwards get your arse over to the statue. I will meet you there.”
I turn and stalk over to my own cottage, and I look forward to spending one blissful hour alone for the first time in a week.
A/N: thanks for reading, please review
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