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Waking up	By : Pegasus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2782 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters. I gain nothing from publishing this, no money, no fame, no fortunes.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
It had been a week now. He had spent it mainly locked up in his lab. The advantage was a nice sum of galleons which the owls had delivered as payment for the potions he had finished and sent during that week. The disadvantage was that he kept thinking about her.
She was right in a way. He had survived and she was dying. But what had he survived for? He was just sitting on this damned rock and waited for death while she could still have had a life. That path was not open to him. He had nothing to live for. Lily was dead and so was the Dark Lord, the reason which kept him alive and struggling on after Lily’s death. The Potter brat had survived. He had fulfilled his promise. But there was nothing left for him after that. He had managed to find some contentment in his solitude here but he would never call it a life. He was merely trying to make his remaining years bearable. And he had never had any expectations that it should be differently after he had come to terms with the fact that he was still breathing. Sophie was a still young, at least compared to him. And what he knew of her, told him that she had family, friends, things and people she loved with passion. It was really unfair that she should have to die with all that there when he was alone and wishes he could die but had to struggle on. And with everyday that he thought about it, he felt more and more guilty. He was alive and she would die.
He also realised that his remarks had not been appropriate and since at some point he had to take her father’s clothes back anyway, he decided that he would apologise. He didn’t quite know yet how to say it but then he did not have to storm down there immediately. He resolved he would think about his words and go see her when he had made up his mind about what to really say without making it sound too emotional and without upsetting her even further.
But things came differently as the usually do. He was just returning from one of his outings to collect ingredients a few days later and darkness was beginning to settle down. Coming into the cove from the western end of the cliff path, he saw her sitting on the rocks down by the water front. He would have to pass her to get to his cottage. Apparation was out of the question since he was too close and the noise would attract attention. He inexplicably feld a slight sense of panic beginning to rise. He wasn’t ready yet to confront her, or better himself, with his inappropriate behaviour… but then again he had waited for an entire week and more for the right words to come to him but they hadn’t. Maybe it would be best to just get it over with and be done with this. He tried to calm himself by telling himself it wasn’t as if her acceptance or rejection of his apology would make any difference to his life here and now. She would die and be gone. No matter how awful he behaved.
He made his way down the path and watched her, expecting her to turn every minute and see him coming. But she didn’t. She kept looking out to the sea, completely lost in the rhythmic sound of the water and the dancing light of the setting sun on it’s surface.
He approached her from behind and when she still wouldn’t acknowledge his presence, set his basket down and came up beside her.
“I think I owe you an apology.”
He had spoken softly so as not to pull her to violently out of her revery.
She still looked surprised to see him there, but collected herself swiftly and answered with a smile.
“No. I need to apologise. I overreacted. Completely. I have no right to judge you or your views on life. I have no idea what you have experienced in your life so you may have good reason to feel the way you said you do. I was simply overcome by what I still perceive as a great unfairness. I thought I might have accepted by now that this is the way things are and that no amount of complaining and no amount of bitterness and anger will change that. But it seems I cannot find that acceptance within me. I am truly sorry I let it out on you.”
He stood there looking down on her, looking into those sincere brown eyes again and felt completely lost for words. She apologised for his lack of tact and sensitivity. He felt something inside him give way and for this moment he pitied her more that he had ever pitied anybody, including himself. He lowered himself on the rock beside her and together they sat in silence watching the waves. And to him it was a comfortable silence. Somehow with the pity had come the realisation that she was no danger. She would soon be gone and he could be himself here without fearing to be hurt. When the sun had set and the temperature dropped he helped her up and walked her back to her cottage.
“If it is agreeable to you I will come by tomorrow to return your father's clothes.”
“Oh yes, I had almost forgotten. Sure, I’ll be here.”
“I will see you tomorrow then.”
He slowly walked back up to his cottage. There was a feeling inside him he had not felt for… he wasn’t sure, it felt like he had never felt it before. He felt… content. That must be the word to describe it: contentment. It was warm and comfortable and it was calming. He wasn’t sure why all of a sudden he felt this way. He could only guess. He tried to trace it back. It must have come while they were sitting by the water. He had always liked the hypnotic effect the waves had on him but this time it was not the usual melancholy that accompanied it. It was this contentment. He stopped and looked back to her cottage. Was she the reason? Or was it just because she had apologised when it was not her place to do so accepting a blame and guilt that should have been his to bear and thus taking a burden from him like no one had ever done for him? He didn’t know, but then, did it matter?
The next day he walked down and was greeted at the door by a suspicious looking father.
“Good Day to you. Sophie is expecting me.”
He did try to be civil.
Her father stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. His eyes never leaving the face of the man who had made his daughter cry.
“I hope you will not make her cry again.” he said in his broken English.
Snape looked at him but knew that whatever he said was not going to be believed, so he just left it and went into the sitting room. The room was stifling hot, yet he found Sophie sitting in the armchair closest to the fire with a blanket around her and a book in her lap.
“Hello. I have brought the clothes back.”
“Hey, hello!” She greeted him with a warm smile which he couldn’t help to return.
“Thank you, have a seat I will put on the kettle.” Her mother appeared to see who had come and scowled at him when she saw him. An exchange in German followed at the end of which Sophie sank back into her armchair again.
“My Mum will fix the tea.”
“She isn’t too pleased I’m here.” It was not a question, more a statement.
“Yes, well, they are very protective of me.”
“I do apologise…”
“Never mind, let’s just forget about it. What has passed is passed.”
He smiled again. Her pragmatism was refreshing. He had hardly come across this character trade in females.
“Are you worse today?”
Again she was surprised with which disregard for tact he spoke about her illness. After all she hadn’t known him for long and yet he asked her questions about her condition as if he was an old acquaintance. Maybe it was his way not to beat about the bush and she would just have to accept this in him.
“Well, I’m very cold and shivering all the time. I’m not in pain though. The dozens of pills I take are taking care of that.”
He nodded.
“I hope you don’t find my questions regarding your condition impertinent…” ah,... so there was an awareness for the awkwardness of his questions!
“...but I have a partly professional interesst.”
“What is your profession?”
“I’m a maker of natural remedies.”
“Oh… what kind of remedies?”
“Nothing as advanced as cancer to be sure...just for little aches and ailments. Nature offers a surprising stock of medicinal substances.”
“I’m sure it does. Do your remedies sell well?”
“I can’t complain.”
“Have I heard of your products before? What name do you sell them under?”
Ah… now he hadn’t expected this reaction. Usually muggles smiled benignly when he mentioned his natural remedies and thought him one of those strange, hippi-esque people that live an alternative lifestyle in denial of the real world.
“Uhm.. no, I can’t imagine you have. It is a small business,... I’m selling mainly to locals.”
“Well, if your products are good, maybe you should consider selling them on the net?”
“On the what?”
“The net…? The internet?” She couldn’t believe there was anyone who had never heard of the internet before. Surely he had just misheard.
He had heard this word before and was aware that it was something to do with theses infernal machines all muggles were using these days.
“Oh, yes of course… no I don’t think that would be advisable. I produce only in very small quantities so as not to endanger the stock of natural growing plants of the area.”
So he also had environmental awareness. Sophie liked that a lot in people. She had always tried her best to leave as small a mark on the surface of this planet as possible and valued it when she met people who were conscious of the effect the human population had on all other planetary life forms. And she was grateful he hadn’t offered some obscure plant with near miraculous properties that would cure her. She didn’t believe in this kind of medicine but she also didn’t want to alienate him by turning such an offer down.
“I’m sorry… but I think we have never really introduced ourselves to each other. I just realised I don’t know your name?”
“Indeed… we haven’t. My name is Sam Ashworth.”
“Sophie Gerolstein. Please to meet you, Sam. Or should I say Mr. Ashworth?”
He was taken aback by her addressing him by his given name but he was also aware that muggle customs and wizzard customs were in some respects different. And really it didn’t matter what she called him.
“No, Sam is fine.” With that her mother entered the room with the tea tray. They spent the rest of the afternoon cosily sitting by the fire, sipping their teas and talking about the most meaningless subjects imaginable. Normally he would have never lowered himself to such idle and useless chatter; the weather, the changes of the seasons, the water temperatures and the grocery shopping in town which led to a discussion of cooking and ingredients. But all through this conversation it felt natural and relaxed, not forced or embarrassing. And the topics allowed him to talk without giving too much about himself away. He enjoyed it. And he was surprise he did. When they said good-bye later on she even asked him to return and have tea again. Whenever he liked she had said. He had non-committedly grunted a response, but already knew he would be back.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Waking up