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Making Happy	By : neelix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5458 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story that are from the Harry Potter books. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Epilogue
- 6
- 7
- 8
7. Where Severus Makes A Decision

“Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.”

~ Richard Bach ~

Severus

‘You should try to eat something, Hermione.’

I don’t remember seeing her quite so out of sorts, and while I’m tempted to wallow in my own pain and misery, I find worrying about her a welcome distraction. I have learned to expect the worst and be relieved when it doesn’t come to pass. It is less disappointing than hope.

‘I can’t,’ she whispers. She’s hugging the pillow to her body for comfort she can’t get from me, despite everything.

‘You need to stay strong, Hermione. Happy needs you to be,’ I plead. I need you to be.

‘Strong like you, Severus?’

Her tone is biting. So be it. If it pulls her from her maudlin pit then she can vent at me as much as she likes. I’m open to that and more than likely I deserve it for some reason or other. I don’t respond, but sit at the end of the bed and wait for the rest to follow. She doesn’t disappoint.

‘How can you sit there like everything is normal? Our daughter might die, Severus!’

‘And you expect me to behave how, exactly? Does it say how I should manage this in Hogwarts: A History, or Moste Potente Potions?’ I try hard not to rile back at her because I know she is hurting but fuck it, so am I. I just hide it well.

‘I don’t know, but you just sit there like there’s a block of ice around your heart! You didn’t let Harry in, and you only allow me what you feel you can give. I thought that Happy had thawed you, but look at you!’ She throws the pillow across the room in temper, and angry, frustrated tears coarse down her face.

I take a slow breath and bite my tongue. Really, she can be such a harridan when she’s in full pelt. I try not to let her words find their target, but I already know it’s too late. Cruel and cutting and yet so scarily accurate, I’m reminded how well this woman knows me. My heart, icy though it may be, aches for her pain and mine, and for everything that went before.

I feel her moving towards me, and suddenly she is curled beside me with her head on my lap, tears streaming. I can’t help but sigh. I forget that she is young still, and the responsibility of parenthood has been hard for her with no parents to turn to for support. I never felt the need. I always knew I would do a better job. I stroke her hair, as much to soothe myself as her.

‘I’m sorry, Severus. I didn’t mean it.’

‘Yes, you did. You’re always honest,’ I say with a laugh. She closes her eyes and reaches up to take my hand. I’m shocked when she presses a soft kiss to my upturned palm.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she says quietly.

‘Where else would I be?’

She doesn’t answer, and I realise she has fallen asleep, the result of long hours of waiting and worrying and the explosive expression of emotion. I envy her that.

I summon her thrown pillow so I can lean comfortably against the wall, and dim the lights. It could be a long night. I close my eyes and find myself mentally cataloguing the day’s events, a habit I thought I’d left at Hogwarts. I feel numb, like I’m watching someone else’s life from a distance, but there are some images I can’t shake.

I fight back tears as I think about Happy. She has been at the forefront of my thoughts, my only child. I went into her room and gathered the things I thought she might want during her recovery. I did it mechanically, trying to ignore her unmade bed and the books on her bedside table. Underwear, t-shirts, her favourite skirt and the pair of Muggle jeans that she refused to take off for a week at Christmas. I was holding it together until I went to grab her bloody rabbit. Dammit. I take a shuddering breath and wipe away the tears swiftly. I don’t want Hermione to see me like this.

I was still struggling when I stepped back into Potter’s office, and the look of concern on his face made me immediately long for the time before. The feeling of being held by someone who cares deeply about you should be bottled for use in such emergencies.

Although he’s older, he’s still impulsive, still pushes the accepted boundaries of our relationship, such as it is. There is part of me that is heartened by his boldness, but it only serves to remind me that I could have kept it for myself.

Somewhere deep down, I am aware that reality as we all know it is changing. My life started out on shaky foundations as it is. Now, I fear I am losing everyone. I close my eyes in a bid to stop myself thinking and mentally list the contents of my potions lab.

When I reach Ashwinder eggs I stop and wonder if all of my decisions were foolish ones.

***

We are roused by a loud knock on the door, and Hermione sits up awkwardly. I ignore the sudden rush of blood to my numb thighs and walk swiftly. It is Potter, as I expected. I stand aside to let him in and resist the urge to laugh as he notices the bed has not been slept in and that Hermione, although a tad dishevelled, is still dressed. Did he imagine we would use the room as a hotel suite, a perfect opportunity for a romantic interlude in our busy lives? The look of confusion is still pasted to his face when he looks at me, and I can guess at the unanswered questions he wishes to lay before me.

Hermione doesn’t give us time for further wordless conversation. ‘Harry, please tell me that Happy is okay.’ She stands, pale and thin, wringing her hands. I go to her, hoping my closeness will bring her some comfort, but the gap between us remains.

‘Happy needs an operation. There is bleeding, causing her brain to swell. We have to reduce that quickly and stop the bleed.’ His words are delivered staccato, like he’s struggling to get them out.

‘Who will do the procedure?’ I immediately wish I could do it myself, and berate my history as Potions Master and Teacher. If I were a surgeon…

‘Mr. Armitage. He’s our best man, I trust him completely. I’ve volunteered to assist.’

‘You’ve done this before?’ I can feel Hermione’s glare, but I choose to ignore it.

‘You can trust me, Severus.’ He takes a small step closer, his eyes sincere, urgent. I see what he’s really saying, but it cannot happen here, now, when I have my child to think of.

‘Severus.’ Hermione sounds like she’s far away and I can’t seem to focus on her voice until she shakes my arm firmly.

‘Yes?’ I’m aware my own voice is faint. My mouth has gone dry from the sheer will of staying silent.

‘Remove the Vow, Severus. Now, just do it. Make it easier on yourself,’ she says. I can hear the pleading tone and the words she doesn’t say. Make it easier on me.

‘Will you stay?’ I reply. I couldn’t bear it if she left, taking Happy with her.

‘Of course. It’s our home. Nothing has to change, unless you want it to.’

I’m still staring at Harry, who is looking bewildered and confused and very much like he did at eleven years old. He’s still so much younger than I want him to be, but wizard or no; I have no control over that. But I want things to change. My eyes flick to his mouth, and the memory of that firm lower lip, and the curve of his smile, assault my senses like a dagger to the heart.

I withdraw my wand, and he flinches, stepping backwards. I feel Hermione sigh in relief.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Making Happy