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Shattered	By : Adriana Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 11987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Shattered

By Adriana

trixielou60@hotmail.com

Author's Note: Some of you were confused about whether or not Hermione and Voldemort actually experienced the completion of the Sentient Healing Ritual, so I thought I'd explain: With Voldemort�s ritual potion tainted by the Soul Shattering Potion, it was rendered useless for healing purposes, so no, they never completed the Sentient Healing Ritual. That's why Hermione still has her magic.

Again, the usual Disclaimers apply. And now on to Chapter 24:

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I was just guessing

At numbers and figures

Pulling your puzzles apart

Questions of science

Science and progress

Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me

Come back and haunt me

Oh and I rush to the start

Running in circles

Chasing our tails

Coming back as we are

~From the song, "The Scientist" by Coldplay

***********************************

Chapter 24: Start

In the aftermath of the Final Battle, there was total anarchy and disarray. The air was smoky and the holyce wce was littered with fallen Death Eaters and confused Aurors. In his mind, Draco could still see the unfamiliar spectacle of Severus Snape staggering to his feet, an utterly disoriented and befuddled look on his face. He was almost unrecognizable as he stared at the spot from where Hermione had disappeared.

It was then that Lucius Malfoy, ever the opportunist, chose to make his Last Stand.

Even now, six weeks later, Draco still could feel the whiz of the green energy as it shot from his father's wand towards his head. If it hadn't been for Ginny Weasley, he'd probably be spending eternity right now exchanging insults with her fallen brother.

He looked down at his father's tombstone and smirked.

For political reasons . . . reasons he still failed to grasp after all these weeks, Ministry Aurors chose to Ennervate their captive Death Eaters, just long enough to bind them and begin Apparating to Azkaban. They said later that they wanted to afford some dignity to the Prisoners of War, which, in Draco's opinion, was certainly more than any of them deserved. It was then, with true Malfoair,air, that Lucius seized the day, and before he could be bound, he pushed his Auror away, pointed his wand at Draco, and yelled "Avada Kedavra" as the mortified Auror shoved him to the ground.

Still stunned by her brother's death, Ginny had been wrapped in Draco's arms, as he was practically carrying her to keep her from falling. She'd intuitively stiffened a split second before Lucius had uttered those fatal words, and then had violently thrown her weight against Draco as the syllables came tumbling out. They went crashing to the grass as the green energy zoomed over their heads.

And then a really amazing thing happened.

The deadly green light shot past Draco and Ginny, only to stop suddenly in front of one of the henges. It was as if an invisible shield had been placed before the stone and in a ricochet worthy of Peeves, the energy shot back, hitting Lucius Ma in in the chest. He was dead before his head hit the ground.

Draco contemplated the new headstone he'd just had placed at his father's graveside.

"Here Lies Lucius Malfoy - Killed By a Rock Acting in Self-Defense," it read.

"Oh Draco . . . you didn't," said a soft voice behind him. He turned to smile at the diminutive redhead.

"Don't you like it, dearest?" he asked playfully.

"It's terribly disrespectful," Ginny giggled. She tried to keep her laughter from escalating by placing han hand over her mouth. Instead, she let out an unladylike snort.

"If it makes you laugh, then it stays. It's our final revenge."

She looked at him in wonder. How was it that he knew exactly the right thing to say?

She brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes as they embraced each other. Spring had finally arrived and the air smelled of sunshine and flowers. They began walking down the cobblestone path in Hogsmeade Cemetery, ambling slowly aey mey made their way towards Ron's resting place. They'd made a habit of coming to visit him every Saturday morning.

Ginny really hadn't thought that Draco would go through with it, but indeed, he'd chosen to have Lucius buried in a very public place, amongst the Muggle-born and Pureblood wizards alike. It had been the ultimate insult. He had taken great delight in the idea of his father's ghost mingling with the riff-raff.

"Besides, they are all the same now," Draad tad told her, matter-of-factly. "Dead."

He'd looked at her closely when he said that, reading her reaction to his unsentimental view of death. After all, Death played no favorites.

Draco had barely left her side since that night and although it was hard to believe, he'd been a great consolation to her. Ginny had had her fill of wailing and keening from Molly, and Draco, while being completely respectful of Mrs. Weasley's feelings, had made a great point of showing his light-hearted side. His grinning face was becoming a fixture at Sunday dinners, much to the confused dismay of her brothers.

He told Ginny that he could be this way because he'd seen death so many times before, that it failed to intimidate him anymore. Maybe someday, he told her, he'd really examine his feelings on the subject, but for now, he allowed Ginny to grieve in her own way, without judgment, staying up with her during the long hours of the night as she remembered her brother. He wouldn't allow her to elevate Ron to sainthood, but he told anybody who would listen that, in his vastly superior opinion, Ron Weasley was a true hero. He meant it in the deepest sense of the word and while "hero" had been bandied about in describing Draco's actions that night, he'd firmly rejected the label. Ron Weasley was another matter, though. He'd given up his own life to save his sister and Malfoy was almost reverent on the subject . . . very eloquent in fact. It seemed to bring great comfort to Molly Weasley. Her motherly instincts kicked in and in an instant, decades of resentment against all things Malfoy evaporated.

She reacted by feeding him mercilessly.

Ginny's remaining brothers had secretly marveled at it, all the while giving outward signs that they still couldn't stomach a Malfoy in their presence. Arthur Weasley just knowingly looked on, the barest hint of a smile on his face as he watched his daughter and the newest Lord of Malfoy whispering to each other, oblivious to everyone around them.

Ginny thought about all the wrenching changes that had occurred in her life over the last several weeks. The only good things to have come out of it was her discovery that she was stronger than she knew and that she was deeply in love with Draco Malfoy.

She was absolutely terrified of telling him so.

Instead, she distracted herself by thinking about what had occurred in the immediate moments after Voldemort's soul had shattered.

In the split second after Hermione had Disapparated, Harry had followed her. It was as if he was trailing the very essence of her magic . . . as if he already knew where she was going.

Of course, that was the Great Mystery. Nobody had seen either of them since The Final Battle and nobody knew where they were . . . not even Severus Snape. Ginny silently shook her head.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"I can't help it. They've been gone for six weeks and while I understand that from Harry, Hermione is a different matter. I can't believe she'd leave Professor Snape like this. He needs her."

Draco snorted. "As if that changes anything."

She rumpled his hair. "You really must work on that cynical side of your nature. They must be going through something horrible if they've chosen to stay away this long."

"I'm struggling to be charitable. I wouldn't have thought her capable of this." His voice was steely quiet.

"Draco, she sent an owl saying that she was alright and that she would come back when she was ready. Obviously she's not, at least, not yet. "

Draco pouted. "She's being selfish, Ginny. I know that she's all torn up about your brother's death, and she probably feels very guilty, but really . . . your mum and dad needed both Harry and her to help them get through this. And if Harry supposedly loves you so much, why isn't he here?" He couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice at the mention of Harry Potter.

Ginny had to admit that Draco had a good point.

Lord Malfoy was on a roll, as he stopped to give her a dark look. "Not to mention Uncle Severus. It's as if he's become a walking zombie since she left. How did she think he'd react?" He sighed, not expecting an answer.

Ginny noticed the unforgiving expression on his face. "Haven't you ever been so afraid of something that you just couldn't face it?" she asked. "Instead of facing it bravely, you just ran away?"

She had no idea about his personal demons and Draco looked quickly away from her. She caught the expression of shame on his face, but didn't comment. Instead, she reached up and caressed his cheek.

"And you're a wonderful nephew to help him through this tough time."

Draco shook his head sadly. "I'm completely useless, Ginny. He's been a total bastard to everyone and he hides away in his rooms, refusing visitors. It's as if he's never had a happy thought in his life. I'm really worried about him."

He said this as they rounded a corner towards Ron's grave. As if giving an image to his very words, they were stunned to see Severus Snape standing next to the magnificent monument, gazing down at Ron's name inscribed on the stone base.

He looked like utter hell.

*********************************

Wales is rolling moorlands and frozen mountains.

It has very long place names like "Bread of Heaven" and "Merthyr Tydfil", which lends a rather enchanting mental picture to people who have never been there before. One thinks of faeries ber bereaved ghosts, but the reality is a country of deep deforestation and industrial ugliness in the midst of ancient tradition.

It's an incredible juxtaposition.

Which was why, in part, that Harry and Hermione chose to stay there. Well, "hide" was probably the more apt word. They both felt an affinity for the land, which simultaneously radiated both beauty and unsightliness. They chose to stay in the countryside on the outskirts of Aberaeron, in a dingy cottage with no electricity or running water. Not that anybody noticed them there. They didn't venture out of the house and they shut out the world with drawn curtains and warded doors. It was undoubtedly an unhealthy reaction and they stayed like that for a week, oblivious to the newspaper headlines at home screaming, "Where are they?"

Two days after Ron's death, Hermione had her first nightmare.

She'd dreamt that they were together, brewing a love potion in Snape's class, with her directing the preparations in her usual bossy tone. Ron had looked so relaxed and happy, but upon drinking the potion, he suddenly turned into Voldemort and began to shatter. His eyes opened wide and he looked at her accusingly. "You've killed me," he moaned in agony. "Why have you killed me?" Then he exploded.

She woke up screaming.

Harry was right there with her, holding her as sobs wracked her body, her breathing loud and harsh. She'd trembled in his arms, crying for what seemed like hours before she fell back into an exhausted sleep.

Two hours later, Harry woke up screaming.

And so it went, for the better part of a week, as they purged themselves of their grief until their tear ducts were empty and Harry feared that they would dry up and turn to ashes. Not that he minded really, but Hermione had too much to live for, despite what she thought.

From the first moment she'd Disapparated, he'd known . . . known that she'd gone to their cottage on Porth Beach, in Cornwall. After they'd left Hogwarts, Harry had secretly bought the land and had built a quaint cottage overlooking the ocean. They'd made a pact that the only time they would ever come to this place would be if all three of them were together. Nobody in the outside world knew of it and it had been a wonderful place to hide after past stresses with The Dark Lord.

They hadn't been there in over a year, but Harry knew that this would be the first place she'd go.

They tried to stay there the first day . . . Hermione had refused to look at Harry and had collapsed at the foot of Ron's bed, wailing about how she'd killed her best friend. Harry had been stunned by her reaction. He knew how much she loved Ron and he knew what it had cost her in making that horrible choice, but she'd frightened him with the vehemence of her guilt. He decided then and there that he would dedicate himself to helping heal her demons . . . ironic really, given that she was a Master Healer, yet she seemed unable to do anything to pacify her own soul.

"Medice, cura te ipsum," he'd thought, that day.

Physician heal thyself.

He refused to leave her side.

As it turned out, they both had a hand in healing each other and as the days stretched out, Hermione allowed herself to think about other things.

Like Severus.

She was going to have to face him and as difficult as it was to think about it, every day that she was away made it harder and harder to go back. She was so afraid of what her reaction might be. Hell . . . his reaction, too. She missed him, it was true . . . but she was in no shape to see him.

Hermione needed more time.

Harry spent countless hours with her and the first thing that he'd done, when he'd initially seen her in Cornwall, was to forgive her. Not that she'd needed his forgiveness, only that she needed for it to be said aloud. He told her over and over again that only Voldemort was to blame, until finally, she began to believe him. It was his greatest gift to her .. . . hng hng her to believe in everything he said.

Gradually, things got better-- day by day. It started with the small remembrances, such as the time Ron coughed up slugs during their second year or that peculiar shade of green he'd turn after ingesting a particularly horrid potion, usually of his own making. They'd had a good chuckle over that one.

Laughter is a healing balm and it was hard not to think about Ron and remember the many times he'd made them laugh through the years.

That's how the transformation began. Despair gave way to the tiniest bit of faith.

And with it, Hermione's dreams changed. Ron appeared regularly to her, never speaking . . . only looking at her with mirthful blue eyes, his mouth curled in a crooked grin. He looked strong and healthy and Hermione would wake feeling comforted, somehow. Her logical side tried to dismiss it as the meanderings of a hopeful subconscious mind, but she knew deep in her heart that he was at peace.

Harry began to tentatively talk of home and Hermione felt a stab of conton aon as she knew what his ministrations may have cost him. He'd left Ginny alone for weeks now and it wasn't likely that she'd forget. Forgive maybe, as she had a generous nature, but in all likelihood, Harry Potter had blown his last chance with Ginny Weasley. But he'd made his choice and after what she'd experienced at the Final Battle, she knew that even the hardes cho choices could be made with certainty.

He voiced no regrets.

They'd opened the windows and had done simple magic . . . little things to brighten the look of the cottage and it helped to soothe them as they let the sunshine in. Harry had even ventured to the wild, overgrown garden in the backyard and had cut some daffodils to put into a vase of water. He displayed them on the kitchen table.

At her first glimpse of the daffodils, Hermione was immediately transported to the gardens at the Hunting Lodge. The sunny smell of the flowers brought her back to the place of her greatest love and suddenly, she longed for him with a fierceness she hadn't felt in several weeks. For the first time since they'd come there, she allowed herself to remember him . . . to remember everything that came before.

It was an awakening . . . a tiny little breath of hope.

That night, in her dream, Ron spoke to her for the first time.

She was lounging on the porch at the Burrow and Ron had appeared before her, eating a big helping of his mother's mince pie.

"Paaah," he said, pie crust flakes flying from his mouth. He stopped chewing and grinned.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione felt her ethereal self grin back.

Ron took a moment to finish chewing and he swallowed before saying, "Pie. It's me mum's favorite recipe." He sat down heavily and Hermione swore she felt the "whoosh" of air as he bounced on the cushion of the chair.

He regarded her insolently. "It's lovely to see you, my dear. I've been trying to talk to you for ages. It's very noisy in your brain . . . perhaps you could do with a bit of mental housecleaning?"

She looked at him in amazement.

"And don't even tell me that you know why I'm here, because you think you know everything." He shoved another scoop of pie in his mouth.

"So why are you here, then?"

He looked at her with patience. "I would have thought that you'd know that already. Goodness Hermione! You're really off your game." Hermione began to tear up at the playful sound of his voice.

He looked at her gently.

"I don't blame you, Hermione. For anything . . . please know that. You must go home, my darling. It's alright to let me go . . . I know that we'll always be a part of each other, but our time together is over. At least temporarily," he added with a wink. "I'll save you a seat at Merlin's Pub."

She smiled at him before it hit her. "I don't even know if I have anything to go home to, Ron," she said sadly. "I've hurt Severus in the worst possible way. I abandoned him."

He grinned at her reassuringly.

"You must go back to the start, Hermione. Where it all began . . . he's waiting for you there. No doubt, you've loads to tell him." He gave her a knowing smile worthy of Dumbledore, before fading away.

She woke with an answering smile on her face and sat up in her bed. Getting up, she padded down the hall to Harry's room, where she watched him as he softly snored, a peaceful look on his face.

"We're ready," she thought.

It was time to go home.

*****************************************

Severus Snape, on the other hand, was anything but at peace.

In fact, under the word, "tormented" in the Wizard Dictionary, there was probably a morose picture of Severus Sn his his snarling voice telling everyone to "piss off" before stomping from the frame.

He was in danger of becoming a caricature of himself, not that he gave a fucking bloody hell in Hades. He hadn't looked in a mirror in weeks, but if the reactions of the students and staff members were any indication, "Greasy Git" didn't even begin to describe it. He was well past that, possibly to the point of no return.

Looking at the marvelous splendour that was Ron Weasley's grave, he sighed. The monument was made of exotic scarlet marble, which had been imported from the quarries of wizarding China. It was adorned with a huge statue of a roaring lion and it sparkled in the morning sun. It was a sad commentary that it took a noble death for Weasley to get the attention for which he'd so desperately craved. He'd been posthumously awarded just about every medal, every citation and every accolade that could be bestowed upon one wizard.

"And in the end, so what?" Severus said bitterly to the monument. "You'd have probably done a better service to the world had you lived. It's a waste. I'm a waste."

Sadly, no voices were heard to contradict him.

"At this moment, Mr. Weasley, I long to trade places with you."

He could almost hear the redhead snort.

"It's true," he said softly, feeling ridiculous that he was talking to a dead man. But ghosts were real, especially the newly dead, and he had a feeling that this ghost was actually listening. He felt a pull towards Weasley . . . something undefined, but unmistakably there. Perhaps it was because he felt some responsibility for his death, but more likely it was because he felt that it had been a very poor trade.

He suddenly felt cold . . . chilled to the bone.

"I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I need from you . . . I just feel like I needed to tell you . . " His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted things to turn out so differently. Not that it matters in the end."

The only sound that greeted him was that of the gentle wind. He reached out to tentatively touch the marble.

"She's proud of you, I'm sure of it. I can't tell you anything more because I haven't seen her and I have no idea what she's thinking or what she's feeling. I can only imagine . . . "

He dropped his head, as fatigue swept over him. . . He felt the fatigue in a way that hadn't been with him since before Hermione came back into his life. He looked sadly at the stone.

"I think I've lost her for good. I don't think she'll ever be able to look at me and not be reminded of your death. It's just too much of an obstacle."

"Nonsense," said the marble stone, sounding suspiciously like Dumbledore. Severus was startled to see Albus stepping away from the back of the monument, a rueful look on his face.

"Before you snarl at me, I should tell you that I was not spying on you. I just came to visit Mr. Weasley." He looked sadly at the inscription. "Forever young," he murmured, as he moved his fingers across Ron's name.

Severus looked at him grimly. "I suppose you're going to tell me that everything wiork ork out . . . that she and I will find our way back to each other. You're a fool to think so."

Albus shook his head. "I can't say that. But I can say that you look like a man who has lost all hope."

"Well, why shouldn�t I? I�ve lost everything."

"The way of love has no set path, Severus. Regardless of what happens with Hermione, you've got to pull yourself together. You're of no use to anyone, least of all yourself, while you're in this state." He hesitated before continuing. "I think a leave of absence is in order . . . now, now." He raised a hand to Snape's inevitable protest. "You need time away, my boy, I should have insisted upon it long ago," he soothed. "You've no idea what's in store for you, but you must be prepared to face Dr. Granger, either way. She said she was coming back and I've no cause to doubt her. You must go away and think, Severus. Think about how you can take control your life. Think about what you wao sao say to her. It would be a shame for you to make a mistake that could cost you a happy future. You must ready yourself."

Severus only grunted.

"Besides," Albus continued. "You're endangering the students . . . I've never seen you so distracted. Minerva overheard one of the students saying that you almost blew up a cauldron yesterday afternduriduring Double Potions. You've never even come close to such a catastrophe."

Severus was quiet for a moment, before saying, "Perhaps you're right."

Albus grinned. "Now there's three words I never thought I'd hear you say." Severus glared at him before shrugging in defeat.

"If I leave, I can't guarantee I'll come back," the Potions Master said. "Maybe the first step in my 'taking control' would be to quit this place and start a new life somewhere else. I've had several offers to teach and do research at the University level. Graehm Wentworth has been pestering me for years to come to Oxford."

"I'm sure you'll make the right decision, Severus," Albus murmured. "If I may ask, do you have a plan as to where you're going?"

"To Belize," Severus said with certainty. "I'm going to go to Belize to say my mental goodbyes to Hermione and then . . . I don't know, but I'm sure I'll think of somewhere to go."

"I think you're being a bit premature," said Albus. "But do what you must."

With a pat on Severus' shoulder, Albus Dumbledore took his leave.

Severus felt the desolation of loneliness hit him and he was sure that he'd never felt lower in his life. He was leaving everything he'd cherished for the sake of a woman who, despite her love, could probably never look him in the eye again.

He paused for a moment to take a last glance at the monument.

"I'll make a new start of it, then," he said aloud. The thought of it gave him absolutely no comfort.

When he turned around, he saw Draco and Ginny standing by a small gate, looking at him with the utmost pity.

He glared at them in return before growling deeply and swearing.

With an angry pop, he Disapparated.

To be continued . . .
- 23
- 24
- 25
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Shattered