The Funeral Portrait by the French Press, Chapter 8.
The silence is deafening in the lift as they ascend to the next
level. His Carteroid arteries are
throbbing uncomfortably as he tries to get his wildly beating
heart under control. The emotions he experienced in
the last memory they visited had rendered him speechless.
Though they were friendly, not once during their time spent
together in the safe house, he was aware of her true regard for
him, for her feelings to be laid out on display for him there in
her mind. He is still wary.
Too good to be true, his mind offers unhelpfully.
He cannot help but think her emotions were simply due to
their forced cohabitation. Surely, surely there could be no
other reason. Beside him, Hermione is also
completely silent. No doubt she is embarrassed at
her innermost thoughts revealing something to him he had no
business being made aware of. He would be mortified if she was
made Privy to every feeling or thought in a situation.
It is this realisation that snaps him out of his shock and
he decides to take pity on her and break the silence.
First, we should split up and search the hall for the right
memory. Severus suggests.
The floors are organised chronologically as they appear
to be. This floor is the most logical
for memories from the war. All right, she agrees.
They take a side, and she sets off down the hall, opening doors
and peering inside, each seeking out the poignant memory.
He catches glimpses of more of their time spent together in the
safe house, but pushes his curiosity aside in service of
their task. However curious he might be, he
knows that discovering who her attacker was is far more
important. Severus, I found it.
Her voice tears him out of his musings.
He shuts the door to the room he is about to invade and hastily
walks over to join her. It is the last room at the end
of the hall, near the fire escape.
The door is buttered, the paint chipped in a way the others on
the floor are not. They both stand before the door,
still cracked open a little from Hermione's brief exploration
with bated breath. Miony.
He says, touching a hand to her elbow.
She turns to look at him, her eyes fearful.
I'm scared. She says quietly, and there is
something about her tone that suggests her confidence up until
this point has been feigned. He understands it was the last
point at which she was conscious during the battle, and seeing
those memories, he doesn't blame her for being anxious to live
them again. It hasn't been so long, after
all, since the battle occurred. Severus keeps his hand on her,
anchoring her as he pushes the door open wider.
No matter what we see in there, I will be with you.
He murmurs. You needn't fear it.
Hermione bites her bottom lip and nods, though the uncertainty
in her gaze remains. Thank you.
She whispers. They enter, and the hallway
outside falls away. As they walk right into the
midst of the battle, the ruined western courtyard at Hogwarts
materializing spells are flying past them.
Those which don't hit their targets are deflected into the
castle exterior, causing loud booms to Thunder as the stone is
blasted away. They cannot be hit, but he notes
that Hermione's muscles tighten and she appears poised to draw a
wand that doesn't exist. He stills her, and she appears
sheepish. Where are we?
He rumbles, looking around to catch a glimpse of their
counterparts. Over there.
Hermione answers, gesturing with her free hand.
Severus releases her elbow finally as they move around the
edges of the memory, finding themselves engaged in a battle
with Robaston and Rodolphus the Strange.
He wonders briefly if one of them is responsible for
Hermione's condition, but immediately discards the
thought. Neither one of them was ever
clever enough to come up with a spell as complex as the one
holding her hostage, though there are waves of fear.
Anger is emanating from Hermione in the memory, and he is
enraptured. Had he never seen this memory,
he might never have seen what a fierce warrior she is in battle.
Had he been able to risk letting his attention in battle falter
even for a moment, he might have seen this and the events that
followed. He laments.
He's pleased to see Hermione is quick on her feet.
Her casting is flawless and there is a determination in the
way her jaw is set. She is sublime.
Her foe falls and he sees a glance over to where he has
felled with Dolphus and they both cast spells to bind them
before moving on to assist others.
He watches with a lump in his throat as he moves ahead of her
and an unexpected form appears behind them, beelining directly
towards her with determination. Who on earth?
Hermione queries from beside him as the cloaked figure continues
to approach. Severus feels a sick dread, what
feels like a boulder settling in the pit of his stomach before he
answers. Antonin Dolokhov, are you
certain? She asks, whipping her head
around to look up in surprise. I know his robes.
Severus answers. Each Death Eater had a unique
signature, a Crest so to speak, embossed on their cloak as was
assigned by Riddle. He did not want his followers to
know, he was able to tell who they were simply by reading
their minds. The robes were his solution, a
way to add another level of false importance to the job.
Just another way he asserted his control over his followers.
That's awful. Hermione says just as her foe
catches up with her and brandishes his wand to engage
her. The Hermione of this memory
senses she is being followed and turns to defend herself, her
wand clutched tightly. It is then Dolokhov drops the
mask he wears and throws off his hood.
Severus isn't certain why he reveals himself to her, possibly
some form of intimidation tactic.
No doubt, No doubt he is the perpetrator who did this to the
witch beside him. We meet again.
Mud, blood. He jeers.
Mr. Dolokhov. She says, her voice betraying No
Fear. I'm surprised you would seek me
out for a fight. I thought you were prepared to
target teenage girls with less means to protect themselves.
Dolokhov shoots her a hateful look.
Age means nothing when you are cleansing the world of impurity.
He responds. Big talk for someone who hasn't
managed to kill me yet. Severus couldn't be more proud
as he listens to Hermione verbally spar with her enemy,
egging him on in the hopes he will become overconfident and
make a mistake. Dolokhov shoots off a silent
hex, which she easily deflects, and he repeats this several
times, increasing the speed of his attacks as he goes.
The worst part of viewing this memory is knowing that no matter
how she is doing now, Hermione is felled by him.
He wishes that he'd been paying closer attention to her during
the battle. He has beaten himself up several
times already for letting her down, but seeing this only makes
the regret fill his mouth with a sour taste.
Glazer as Yuhul Insignia. Even in the midst of the chaos,
Severus hears the incantation clearly.
His brows knit together for a moment in confusion before he is
suddenly struck by an emotion so intense that it nearly knocks
the air out of his lungs. Fear, yes, but the most
overwhelming feeling coming from Hermione's memories of this
moment are the ones directed towards his counterpart, a
little ways away from her regret.
He knows the feeling too well to confuse it for anything else.
And something else, he realises as his gaze flicks down briefly
to the witch beside him. Love, it is unmistakable.
He hasn't experienced much of it in his life, but he knows it
well because it is the same chest tightening, breath
catching, mind shattering feeling he experiences when he
thinks of her. There was a pain that
accompanies it normally too, but at this moment he is
overwhelmed, frozen in place by the knowledge that his own
feelings for her are returned. Until he recalls where he is and
is jolted back to the memory they are viewing, watching as
Hermione's form slumps to the ground and it becomes blurred,
turning to black as she slips into unconsciousness.
He reaches for her elbow and steers her out of the room in
the direction of the lifts, just as the memory restarts from the
beginning so they can return to her flat.
The ride is awkward. She refuses to look at him.
He can't blame her, if he's had his own feelings wrenched out
unwillingly, his own shame would have been far worse.
Hermione. He tries to say and draw her
attention once they are safely back in her space.
She finally forces herself to look up and he is saddened by
her downcast expression. He wants to reassure her, but he
cannot be so selfish, not when there is still so much work to
be done, but later. Severus gives himself a mental
shake to get his mind back on track.
I think I have enough to go on now.
He tells her gently. Good.
She says, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
She looks to be on the verge of tears, but he can tell his
comfort is not what she wants or needs right now.
I should return to I shall go speak to HeLa Patil and begin
doing some knee search. He assures her.
All right. She replies.
There is nothing left to say and Hermione turns away from him.
He concentrates on his connection, using the tether as
a means to pull himself back out, and withdraws from her
mind. He sucks in the chilled hospital
room, air sharply through his nostrils as he emerges from
Hermione's mind. Padma is at his side in an
instant with a concerned expression.
Several of us waves her off as he holds his free hand against
the side of his head. It throbs with pain from the
length of time he has been inside Hermione's mind.
Releasing the witch in question's hand, he slips the
tether off and abruptly stands from the chair to dispose of
everything in the medical waste bin before jerking his head in
the direction of the doorway to wordlessly indicate his intent
to leave. He and the young healer depart
Hermione's room in silence, and she pauses briefly at the
healer's station to pocket a few things.
He notes that she shooks off her healer's robe and Dons A
sensible black Parker instead. Once they are outside and down
the street, he leans heavily against the brick wall of the
building on the corner and Padma mimics him.
She wordlessly holds out a small vial of potion and he accepts
it, popping the cork and Downing it without question.
He is more than familiar with how a pain potion looks by now.
Thank you. He says quietly once the potion
begins to take the edge off his discomfort.
Did things not go well? She asks.
He rummages through his coat pockets for his cigarettes.
Did you not find the memories you were looking for?
They went fine. He answers gruffly as he taps
the box twice against his leg. One cigarette pops out, followed
by a second which he hands to Padma.
He swiftly casts the spell to light the ants and then lifts it
to draw the smoke gratefully into his lungs as Padma asks.
Then what is the problem? It is not pertinent to the case
or her recovery. He answers, shooting a quelling
look at his younger companion. They fall silent as they smoke
their cigarettes, blowing the smoke away from passers by and
ignoring the filthy looks a couple of judge mental looking
women send their way. Severus mind is swimming.
He feels as though he is drowning, overloaded with
everything he has gleaned from Hermione's memories.
A good deal more than he had bargained for, actually.
He feels conflicted about it too, like viewing her private
memories and innermost feelings was a violation, even if she had
given him permission to do so. It sits wrong in his stomach,
causing it to churn violently to the point that he no longer has
a taste for the fag caught between his fingers.
He puts it out and closes his first around it, ignoring the
momentary bite of pain from the still hot end of it.
He will have a burn from it most likely.
You have to tell me something. Padma says in exasperation from
beside him. I saw the memory we needed.
He tells her, glancing at her briefly to see she'd also put
out her smoke. Antonin Dolokhov cursed her.
They fought one another, though the fact that she didn't
actively remember fighting him in the battle until viewing her
memories is a little troubling. I'm not sure if that is due to
the curse or a little amnesia from her injuries.
Padma frowns, troubled. That is something of naughty we
need to consider. She agrees.
Poor Hermione. Severus doesn't reply, but he
agrees with her that being cursed twice by the same dark
wizard is unfortunate indeed. She was his intended target.
We saw that much in her memories.
I will need to research the incantation and see what I can
do about getting a hold of some of Dolokhov's personal effects.
Oh, that's right. Padma exclaims.
He died, didn't he? He inclines his head a fraction.
I'll have to owl Kingsley to see what I can find out.
I'll do whatever I can to help. Padma says, pushing off the
wall. I have to head back.
Are you coming with me? He shakes his head, and there is
too much happening in his brain for him to be able to face
seeing Hermione again that day, and he is far too drained to be
able to maintain his occulancy Shields to push his thoughts
out. He will simply have to sit with
them and process when he gets home.
I'll return tomorrow. He informs her.
Afternoon. She nods and goes to leave, but
turns around before he can take another step towards the park to
operate. Severus.
Yes. Are you in love with Hermione?
His heart stalls and he feels suddenly light headed.
Of course Padma would suspect. Of course she would ask.
The answer is simple. Saying it out loud though,
admitting to being in love with Hermione Granger was fraught
with danger not only for himself but for her.
She doesn't need his love right now.
She needs a Healer and a Legitimens with the knowledge of
the Dark Arts to heal her and bring her back.
But that isn't the question. Yes, his answer rings out
clearly, hanging between them like a thick, heavy blanket of
discomfort. Mostly his.
There isn't another living soul that he is told this to, and
Padma Patil is not even close to who he thought would be the
first person he shared this with.
In fact, he expected to take this with him to his grave.
She's lucky to have Someone Like You so devoted to her.
Padma says firmly, closing the distance between them and
reaching out to grasp one of his hands between both of hers.
It's warm and strangely comforting, and he feels a wave
of positive emotion flood through him at the gesture.
There is nothing strange about it, as he might have suspected
there would be. It was simply one person being
kind and offering comfort to another.
Is this what friendship feels like?
He hardly even remembers what that's like, he supposes.
At one point he was friends with Minerva and Poppy, but since the
end of the war he has spent nearly all of his time at Saint
Mungo's and they were busy trying to get Hogwarts in any
sort of fit condition to resume operation.
Thank you. He chokes out, the words almost
sticking to his throat. You need to start taking better
care of yourself. She replies after a moment.
You are far too thin and you look haggard and expect you to
start eating at least three square meals a day and no less
than six hours sleep. Now I'll be checking, who are
you? My mother.
He sneers. Just a concerned friend.
Padma says with a shrug. I'll just remind you, you are no
use to Hermione if you are exhausted and malnourished to
perform the spells or make the portions she needs.
He frowns, hating that she is right.
I'll take that under advisement. She smiles and drops his hand,
turning to leave once more. See you tomorrow.
She says, not bothering to turn around as she waves at him and
walks back in the direction of the hospital entrance.
Padma reminds him of Poppy a little, he realises as he
watches her leave, friendly, but straightforward enough to call
him on his nonsense. It's comforting in a way.
He almost, almost feels a smile tugging at the corners of his
mouth. Shaking his head, Severus turns
and walks in the opposite direction so he can operate home
in his house. He hangs up his coat at the
front door, shivering at how cold it is.
This house is lifeless and doesn't see very much of him.
Standing empty for most times of the day save when he needs to
shower, eat dinner, and sleep. Lighting a fire to warm the
sitting room, he drags himself into the kitchen so he can begin
to make good on his promise to his young healer friend.
It strikes him as odd to view her that way, but it was she who
suggested they are friends out loud.
Without prompting, he warms his soup and sits in front of the
fire to eat it with some bread. The orange red flames flickering
brightly in the fireplace are the only source of light to the
otherwise dark house. Finally, he allows himself to
ponder his feelings about what transpired in Hermione's mind.
Her behaviour following the viewing of the last two memories
in particular tells him that the emotions they experienced are
true. Knowing his feelings are
returned, however, has not made things easier at all.
All it has done is given his fool heart an opportunity to
hope. Hope is dangerous, though.
Hope leaves him open to disappointment.
Hope makes people careless and irrational.
He cannot afford to have hope until Hermione is free from the
shackles keeping her restrained where she is.
Later, he reminds himself. He's been patient for this long,
slamming his occupancy Shields back up.
Now that his headache from earlier has faded, Severus
continues to eat his soup.