Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.	By : mbassan Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17891 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 6 � My Tongue of Frozen Doves (Will Never Taste of Flame).

He tried to recall if Justin had ever suffered insomnia. No. Severus didn�t think so. Justin Snape enjoyed the sleep of theocenocent. It was Aniko who could never fall asleep.

�Whenever I is closing my eyes,� she told him, �kutyak to come. Dogs to come barking on me, barking, barking� always barking�� Aniko sighed, �but you is to go to sleep now, Severus. Anyu to watch over; not going, staying.�

There was a song Aniko used to sing to him, about a patched cow and children going to the village, where a heap of sweets were waiting for them � Hungarian, of course. Justin had never approved of Aniko�s habit of speaking Hungarian to the children. However, as Severus was the youngest, Justin had probably thought it was safe to allow some pampering.

Aniko had a sweet, whispering voice, he recalled. A voice designed for murmurs and telling secrets in the dark. She had always sung slightly out of key, as if she couldn�t quite capture the tune, and Severus could have listened to her for hours and houringiinging to him when he couldn�t sleep. Her voice was a faint rustle that clung to Hogwarts� walls, drifting to embrace the insomniac Potions Master. There shall be no rest for the condemned. His own purgatory was a sleepless prison of black milk nights, stretching, everlasting, relentless. Tonight was just another link in the chain that never allowed him to climb up the spheres. He halted, standing by a window where silvery moonbeams poured into the darkened hallway. Was this the life in which Hermione Granger wanted him to find a place for her daughter?

Snape frowned at that thought, then scowled at the narrative. Too melodramatic. Spies were supposed to die painful, torturous deaths, but in truth, there were enough of them to survive the war, only to find themselves fighting off their imaginary demons. That would be a pathetic enough death for the likes of him. And the idea would keep him amused for a while. Not that it was likely to come true. Sometimes spies did come to the sort of death literature predicted for them. Voldemort was too pompous a creature to enjoy the beauty of subtlety. And too proud to acknowledge the fact that no horror he could ever provide for Severus Snape would have sharper teeth and sharper claws than Aniko�s barking dogs. Marvelous.

He sat on the windowsill; legs drawn to his body, and watched the snow-covered lawns. Somewhere in the distance, wavered Hogsmeade�s Christmas decorations. Colourful, shimmering lights, tearing holes in the sky�s fabric. Hundreds of Hanukah candles burning against the ghetto night. I am becoming morbid, he decided. He could probably tell the little fuzzy mouse some holocaust tales in order to frighten her. Snape closed his eyes. Granger made her request seem so� plausible. So possible. As if the blackbirds never ate away his heart. As if he was whole man. The stupid girl. It seemed like she had always treated him as if he was whole. Snape remembered scant encounters in the Order�s headquarters. Even back then, she had never hesitated to trust him. One of the few, actually, that did trust him. It didn�t bother him then. She was only a child, a pupil, and one he especially disliked. Her observation of him meant nothing in the practical aspect. Granger had no direct relation to his personal life.

This, now, was different. Her trust was a burden Snape was reluctant to take. She didn�t know him. She didn�t know he was like Justin and therefore bound to fail her. And her daughter. Their daughter. If Hermione Granger didn�t have the brains to stay away in whatever hole she escaped to, it was her problem and her problem alone. But bringing a young child with her? Then throw this child into the company of the snide Severus Snape? Damn her. His contact with children had always been limited to student-teacher relationships, a position from which he could rarely inflict too much damage. Snape had no idea what kind of bond Grr exr expected him to form with the child, but he had no doubt it would be too intimate for him. It most probably wouldn�t be what she would call intimacy, but for Snape there was only one definition to the word. Intimacy was the point where you had to push the other person away. Before they�d be close enough to hurt you. Before you�d be close enough to hurt them.

He swore quietly. There ought to be a way he could manage the child. It was his duty. The least he could do to atone the iniquity he did to her. No matter he d rad rather have her send him to some suicide mission. Granger wanted him to acknowledge their child, and so he would. Though Snape only wished he knew how.

* * *

Morning light fell in strange patterns upon his face. Snape blinked. Within an instant, he was entirely awake. The faint lemony light that washed the hallway told him it was merely six in the morning. He had slept for three hours. And was frozen to the marrow. Snape touched a finger to his lips. Chapped. The skin would crack with the slightest movement. Cursing inwardly, he cast a quick warming spell, then a healing spell, to close the incision that ripped his lower lip immediately. Fuck that.

His organs were stiff and unyielding. He forced himself to straighten, then stood up, shaking his limbs in order to infuse blood to those parts of his body that were crushed due to the awkward position in which he fell asleep. Hopefully, none of the students who stayed in the castle during the Christmas break had seen him. Although, it was only secondary concern. More important than this was the fact he fell asleep unintentionally. For already more than a decade, Snape knew his body was crumbling. The atrophy was silent and undetectable: very slowly, he was falling apart. No use hoping for quick, torturous death by the hands of Voldemort.

Grimacing, he made his way toward the great hall. He never liked eating in the mornings � he rather use them for sleep, when he was able to sleep � but it looked like his body could use some extra nourishment. Besides, he had nothing better to do �grading fifth years� essays surely didn�t count. Much to Snape�s suse, se, he was preceded to the staff table. Seraphina Sinistra was already seated in her usual place, diving into a plate full of food. Well, He could handle the Astronomy Professor easily enough. So he managed her, by ignoring her completely.

Snape ate slowly, purposefully, shooting random glares at the unlucky person who dared to roam into the hall while the Potions Master was eating. By the time he finished his first cup of coffee, the staff table had filled considerablarthartha Sprout, always an early riser, arrived at the great hall by six thirty. Filius Flitwick appeared next, then Almery Hooch and Albus Dumbledore. Anna, who arrived several minutes later, gave him her quick, insinuating smile, and sat in her usual place, at the other end of the table. At seven thirty, the staff table was humming and buzzing, its occupants� voices drifting to hover above the great hall. By then, Snape was half way through a steaming bowl of over sweet porridge. He really didn�t think he could manage anything heavier this godforsaken hour. He lifted another spoonful of porridge, and watched the thick liquid trickle down the metal margin. It landed in the bowl, gruel splashing on the china brims.

Minerva, by his side, gave him the scowl she had usually reserved for recalcitrant students. �Your table manners are in dire need of improvement, Severus.�

�Such a sharp observation, Minerva,� he told her, eyes never leaving the thin trickle of gruel.

�You�re disgusting. For Merlin�s sake, nobody forces you to eat it!�

�Yeah, you�re lucky,� agreed a cheerful voice to his left. �Mum always makes me finish my porridge,� she added, a bit sadly.

�Bad for you,� he answered automatically, then grasped at whom he was talking.

A pair of brown eyes met his gaze with quiet understanding. That only served to make him feel sicker.

�Sir?� It was the child, looking at him questioningly. His hands were shaking. Metal hit wood when the spoon he was holding crashed into the table. Some of the porridge was smeared on the girl�s white, delicate fingers. She didn�t seem to mind. Snape flinched and turned to leave the table, stumbling as he shoved off the chair. �I�m sorry-,� he mumbled. �Seem to have lost my appetite.�

He left the great hall with uncharacteristic ungainliness, clumsy in his haste to leave. Unable to stand the presence of other human beings, he retreated to his private laboratory. For several hours he busied himself in babysitting the current batch of Wolfsbane, then concocted a new batch of Pepper-up potion for Poppy�s supply. Afterwards, because he felt like torturing himself a little, he read frantically through Celan�s works. The flames were embroidering forgotten ballads on the walls when Albus Dumbledore�s head popped up inside the fire.

�Severus.�

Carefully, Snape lowered the book, fixing his gaze on the older wizard.

Albus smiled. �Good evening, Severus. I trust that I�m not interrupting anything?�

�I imagine that even if you had, you would carry anyway.�

The old man chuckled. �The advantage of being old acquaintances. May I come in?� and within an instant, Dumbledore was standing inside Snape�s living room. �Charming, as usual,� he commented, eyeing the drinks cabinet. �Would you mind�?�

�No, not at all,� said Snape exasperatedly, �make yourself comfortable with my drinks, I believe you have a better acquaintance with my Old Ogden�s than I do.�

�Well, well, well, Severus, you do keep a fine Firewhiskey for a whiskey drinker.�

�I enjoy the diversity,� he explained coldly.

Dumbledore poured himself a glass. �Shall I pour you a finger?�

�Why don�t you simply offer me a Lemon Drop and be done with it?�

The old wizard frowned. �Well, I always figured that Lemon Drops go better with Tequila. Shall I pour you Tequila then? You seem to keep a lovely Sierra Gold.�

�I am too old for Tequila and certainly so are you. Now leave my drinks alone, as I do feel the urge to get drunk from time to time and I�ll be extremely upset to find that my store is empty, should the time come when I actually need it.�

Dumbledore sipped his drink with a quiet salute, poured himself another finger of Ogden�s, then made himself comfortable in the additional armchair. He gave an inquiring look at the tome still resting in Snape�s lap.

�You�ve been reading Celan again.�

�Well,� Snape answered acidly, �at least I�m not reading Dante.�

�That�s hardly an excuse.�

Snape rolled his eyes.

�The resemblance between you and your daughter is practically amazing. I saw her roll her eyes just the other day and couldn�t help thinking of your young self.�

Snape froze at once. Its core being consumed by the fire, a heavy log cracked, sending shimmering embers to brush the rim of his robe.

�There is really no need to look so stricken, Severus,� Albus�s voice ripped the silence open. �I do have my reasons for coming to see you.�

�She. Is. Nothing. Nothing. Like. Me.�

Dumbledore gave him an amused look. �No, Severus. Aubrey is very much like you. But you, you are nothing like your father. Are you sure about that Lemon Drop?�

�Positive.�

�You don�t have to look so angry. You might make me feel I�m actually bothering you.�

�Probably because you are. What do you know of Justin anyway?�

�Didn�t you ever wonder what he did in Europe during what Muggles call World War two?�

�I see. Grindlewald. Well, spare me that one, Albus, because I really don�t wish to know.�

Dumbledore sighed. �Maybe some day you will.�

He didn�t bother to answer. The old man was looking for a loose thread, from which to start a conversation. Snape had no intention to provide him with any. The mention of the girl shocked him. He should havehave let it surprise him. He should have known Albus better. Yet obviously, he didn�t. For a Gryffindor, Albus Dumbledore actually had some very striking Slytherin qualities. Bringing Justin to the conversation was a typically Slytherin move. Some used to say that the Headmaster could not be trusted. Snape knew better than that. Albus Dumbledore could always be trusted �to aim toward his own means. As long as you remembered that, you were safe from the lion. And not forgetting he was after all, a Gryffindor. He did have a very Gryffindor moral code.

Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle were in reality very much alike. They were both strong, cunning men, both enormously powerful wizards. They had the kind of power that never came without a price. However, while Voldemort�s power was focused to fulfill its owner�s selfish interests, Albus Dumbledore was working toward a greater good. Very simple, in a way � Voldemort�s system was running on inner circulation. He was bound to blow himself up this time or another. Albus� magic, on the other hand, was immanent, synchronized with the moving, ever-forming entity that was, perhaps, Spinoza�s nature. Or the Gryffindor moral code. It made him trustworthy. It also made him incredibly nosy.

�So how have you been?�

Snape raised an eyebrow. It appeared that Albus came to check up on him. An exquisitely shrewd mother hen. His acerbic demeanor was enough to make most people withdraw. Albus, however, compelled Snape to use more complicated methods. With Albus it was a matter of withholding information instead of parrying off unwelcome intruders. Sometimes it even gave him an odd sort of relief. While Albus was wavering his kindly spider�s web around the struggling Severus, Snape�s efforts were focused on breaking free. The web became the issue, rather than the obscure truth it was meant to capture. This time, not even the sticky threads managed to define the form of the pain behind. No use conjuring questions, as there were no answers to be given.

�I�m fine, headmaster,� he said after long seconds of tense silence.

�Of course. That is probably why you look so well.�

Mildly bored, partially horrified, Snape let his fingers roam along the edge of the book. Thin paper was cutting into his index finger�s tip.

�You might like to stop that, Severus.�

Snape frowned, touching the finger to his lips. Blood. Its taste was potent and obscure and sharp all at once.

�Aubrey is a lovely child.�

He answered automatically. �I hate children.�

�You might find getting to know her to be an enriching experience.�

�I doubt that very much. What are you trying to do Albus, soften the stone heart of the vile Potions Master?�

�No,� said Dumbledore amusedly, �I simply wish to remind him that being the great wizard I am, I might place a red-coloured piece of wood, shaped to look like a heart, in his chest, so that the vile Potions Master might feel free to use his own frozen one.�

�Attempt to humour me, A?�
?�

�Never. I was only trying to approach� the man that is moved by Paul Celan�s words.�

Snape tsked. �You�re becoming romantic, Headmaster.�

�Really? You learn new things every day. I, for example, would never have guessed a word such as �romantic� is even part of your vocabulary.�

�Then perhaps it�s the Ogden�s talking.�

�Not at all, Severus my boy. It�s simply� an old, childless man, well past his prime, who is speaking to you now. Perhaps you should consider� listening to him.�

�A confession?�

�Advice. From someone who cares. Don�t argue, Severus, just�. consider.� Dumbledore sighed, and reaching for his wand, summoned the whiskey snifter and one fine crystal glass. �Now,� he began, �I believe we have several other matters to... discuss.�

Snape eyed him warily. �If you feel you have to sedate me in order to break me the news,� he snarled, �then the answer is definitely no.�

The headmaster ignored this last comment. �Please, have some whiskey, Severus, it really is superb.�

�I know that,� he snapped, snatching the decanter. �It�s my whiskey.�

Dumbledore merely twinkled at him.

Snape downed the Jameson�s in one shot, never halting to appreciate the lingering taste of the fine liquor. �Enough?�

�What about another finger?�

He let the old wizard refill his glass. �I�m a Snape, you know. If nothing else, we have great stamina wherever alcohol is involved.�

�I�m willing to take that risk. Would you like some more Jameson�s?�

�I think I�ll pass. Thank you.� He scowled at the headmaster, wondering what could be so terrible to make him want his Potions Master well dosed. �Please, Albus. Don�t let me interrupt you.�

The headmaster smiled wearily. �Well, I won�t beat around the bush. There are issues, which I need to bring to your attention. First of all, I wish to inform you that a formal meeting of the Order will be held about one week�s time from now. The meeting is meant to allow us to discuss further plans and allow some necessary coordination between the different factions. This is not, and I repeat, this is not a simple formal meeting. Therefore, your presence will be required. The exact timing is not yet agreed, to avoid its detection by� disturbing elements, but I expect you to show up to the meeting with your report to hand.�

An Order meeting. He hated these, as they were crowded with people � the noise, the stench, the heavy tangibility of them that wouldn�t dissipate from his clothing and hair even long after the blasted thing ended. Crowded with insipid chatter, an exoskeleton of bland courtesy that he despised. And yet, attending the Order�s meeting was a regular enough duty. It definitely didn�t explain the alco Onward�

�The second, but nonetheless important matter,� Dumbledore continued, �is the disturbing state of your general health.�

Snape blinked. �What about it?� He asked icily.

Dumbledore picked his words carefully. �It occurred to me, as well as to other members of the staff, that your condition is gradually deteriorating.�

Snape leaned forward, and stated the now empty glass on the coffee table. �As you and Poppy are well aware, Albus, I am practically disintegrating. That is no news to you. Would you mind getting to the point, then?�

�Of course Severus, to the point then. Now, as I am well aware you are practically disintegrating, I have decided to appoint you some assistance, so you can loosen up a little and get some much needed rest.�

Snape was staring at him expressionlessly. �You did what?�

�I took the liberty of appointing Miss Granger to act as Potions Teacher to the lower classes, in order to take some of the weight off your shoulders.�

�No.�

�Severus, please be reasonable-�

�Reasonable?� he barked. �I won�t have the little Gryffindor know-it-all taking over my classes and that�s the end of it.�

Dumbledore�s calm expression had changed smoothly into one of grave seriousness. �Severus, you�re spent to the bone, unhealthily gaunt, suffering only Merlin knows what kind of allergic reactions and Voldemort knows how many Cruciatus bursts. How long will you be able to keep functioning like that?�

A wave of tiredness washed over Snape�s body, pulling him back to the leather-covered armchair. �Please, Albus. I am old, weary and sick, it may be either bad genetics or an over-dose of Cruciatus. Both, I suspect. There is no way I can possibly come out of this alive, and I would be a liar if I told you that such knowledge upsets me. Letting me handle my affairs the way I see fit, is the least, and honestly, the only thing you can do.�

�Perhaps it is the best thing I can do for you, Severus, and if I had only you to think of, perhaps I�d let the matter lie. Perhaps you would be far away from here, working on your various researches, receiving the academic recognition you deserve. Perhaps Miss Granger would be finishing her doctorate thesis now and marrying the wizard of her choice, and I�d be just the old, barmy, meddling sorcerer I am. But that is not the situation. We need you, Severus, the wizarding world needs you and it needs you alive. And if, in order to keep you alive, I must disturb your sacred privacy, then I shall do so.�

They sat quietly for long moments. Snape observed that Dumbledore pulled a Lemon Drop out of a hidden pocket and chewed on the sweet. He didn�t offer Snape one, though. This time, it was Snape who opened his mouth first.

�Why Miss Granger, then?�

�Because she is capable,� the headmaster told him. �Because there is no other person I could spare from the fight, and no other person I could trust to fill this job adequately. Because�� And here he paused for a second, ��Because she needs it.�

Snape clenched his jaws. �Pour me another finger.�

The elder man obliged.

�If you expect me to be polite to her just because-�

-�I�d say that her being the mother of your child is a sufficient enough reason for you to act civilly, but no, I shan�t expect you to be polite. I wouldn�t like to place such a heavy burden upon your thin shoulders.�

�Good.� He breathed deeply. �Anything else you�d like to tell me?�

�No, Severus. You don�t have to worry.� Dumbledore rose to his feet, a little stiffened from the prolonged sitting. �That will be all for today.�

Snape watched the ancient wizard as he stepped toward the fireplace, tweaking a pinch of Floo powder. Dumbledore looked old and tired, and surprisingly prosaic, disarmed of his constant shield of sizzling magic. �Good evening, Severus.�

�Good evening, Albus.�

Carefully, Snape picked up the still open tome of Celan�s work and closed it.

* The chapter's title, is taken from F. G. Lorca's "Sonnet".

6

7

8

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Breeding Lilacs out of Dead Land.