Leave Me Sleeping

Leave Me Sleeping

I close both locks below the window

I close both blinds and turn away

Sometimes solutions aren't so simple

Sometimes goodbye's the only way

And the sun will set for you

The sun will set for you

And the shadow of the day

Will embrace the world in grey

And the sun will set for you

Pink cards and flowers on your window

Your friends all plead for you to stay

Sometimes beginnings aren't so simple

Sometimes goodbye's the only way

And the sun will set for you

The sun will set for you

And the shadow of the day

Will embrace the world in grey

And the sun will set for you

And the shadow of the day

Will embrace the world in grey

And the sun will set for you

And the shadow of the day

Will embrace the world in grey

And the sun will set for you

Shadow Of The Day – Linkin Park.

Padraig cursed under his breath, running his fingers through his hair, as Hermione ran down the path. How could he have been so foolish? Minerva had warned him that if he pushed too hard, the young witch was likely to take off. With a deep sigh, and more muttered imprecations, Padraig gave chase.

Hermione didn't know, nor did she care, where she was heading. The only desire that welled within her was to get as far away from Padraig as she could. Her chest heaved with each lungful of air, her heart raced as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Looking up, her heart sank; before her stood a dead end. She wrestled to calm her raging emotions. Even though Padraig had failed to substantiate her belief that Minerva had manipulated and masterminded their initial meeting, the fact that he didn't immediately refute her fears was more than enough. Who else had Minerva been plotting with? Was Molly in on the plan? What about Albus? After all, Minerva had been able to communicate with his portrait for the past fourteen months. There was more than a subtle hint of Dumbledorian plotting running through this scheme, she needed to think.

* * * * * *

Severus sat watching Narcissa. He was increasingly amused by Narcissa's vain attempts to hide her growing ire. He would, of course, let Narcissa get everything off her chest, but like a cat playing with a dead mouse before discarding it for their owner to step on, Severus was relishing her discomfort. She never had mastered the subtle art of Occlumency; it had always been easy to read her emotions.

As he observed Narcissa fight the urge to question him, Severus was reminded of another witch who could never stop asking questions.

"... you are, I believe, yet to learn the art of non-verbal spell casting. Tell me, what is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," Severus snarled at her, "but accurate in its rudiments. Yes, those who perfect the ability to use magic without broadcasting their incantations gain an element of surprise. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of attentiveness and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, his top lip curling, "lack."

"Severus... Severus, are you feeling all right?"

Severus turned his head in the direction of Narcissa's voice, and he realised that her hand was clamped on his shoulder. Her face was a picture of worry and concern.

"Unhand me, woman, I am perfectly fine," he spat.

Narcissa withdrew her hand, keeping a watchful eye on her companion as she returned to her seat.

"I was merely concerned about you, Severus; you seemed to be somewhere else for a while. I was worried that you were beginning to have a relapse. Trewella has warned that it may happen once you start to ... "

"For Merlin's sake, woman, stop twittering like some over-eager first year. I am in reasonable health; I was merely caught up in a memory. If you and Lucius are going to jump to conclusions every time such a thing happens..."

"There's no need to be quite so defensive, Severus. We care about you, we owe you a debt. Please, allow us to worry about you for a while."

"Again, Narcissa, if I am to have a relapse, you will know beyond doubt that such a thing has occurred. I was caught up reminiscing about my days of purgatory, when my time was spent attempting to teach dunderheads rudimentary survival skills for the then rapidly approaching war."

Narcissa smiled weakly at Severus. It didn't take a genius to surmise about whom Severus had been thinking. She would bet her last Sickle that Severus had been revisiting memories about Miss Granger. All was not lost, but she needed to proceed with caution.

With a soft 'pop' a house-elf appeared brandishing a silver tray, upon which sat a teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl. Carefully, the elf set the tea-set down, bowed reverently to Narcissa and Disapparated back to the kitchen.

"Shall I be mother, Severus?" Narcissa asked as she once more seated herself at the table.

He nodded giving a low grunt as his consent.

* * * * * *

As Padraig rounded a corner, his racing heart eased. Before him, kneeling on the ground, head in her hands, sat Hermione. Once more he berated himself for his stupidity. After all the progress Hermione had made when they had shared lunch the day before, he had knocked her back to square one: her grief was palpable as he watched her shoulders shudder with each intake of breath.

Slowly, he approached, taking care not to startle her: the last thing he wanted to happen was for Hermione to run away from him again.

He cleared his throat. "Hermione, I'm so sorry," he murmured as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Minerva ... Minerva is worried about you. She meant no harm. She ... Hermione, please you're right, of course, I haven't got over the loss of Ophelia. It still hurts, but there are more good days than those which are bad."

Hermione's breath hitched as she pulled a cotton handkerchief from her beaded bag. She blew her nose loudly before turning to face Padraig.

Padraig berated himself as he looked at Hermione. Her red-rimmed, bloodshot, hollow eyes stared back at him.

"I'm tired of games," Hermione sighed as she stood up. "I'm tired of people telling me that I need to move forward, that I need to, essentially, forget what Severus and I shared. I'm tired of people thinking that they know what's best for me. I'm scared that I'll forget him ... that I'll forget the scent of potions ingredients and soap that was so quintessentially him. I don't want to forget ... ever. If ... if it weren't for him, Harry would have died before the end of his first year at Hogwarts; if it weren't for him spilling forth his memories of meetings with Albus as he lay dying on the floor of that stupid shack, Harry wouldn't have known how to defeat Voldemort. If it weren't for him ... it doesn't bear thinking what our world would be like today."

"Your friends aren't expecting you to forget Severus, but they miss you, Hermione. They miss the girl who lost herself in her books. Yes, Minerva told me about your love of the written word, the girl who provided the answers to their questions. They miss your laughter and your smiles, and they are worried that you're not even bothered that your parents preferred to stay in Australia rather than coming home with you. You don't have to forget Severus; no one expects you to forget him, but you do need to grieve and you do need to let yourself heal."

Padraig offered Hermione his hand, just as he had the day before. Slowly Hermione took his hand. "Where do you go, Padraig, when you want to remember the good times?" she asked.

"Come with me; it's not far from here."

* * * * * *

Severus sipped his tea – black, no sugar, slice of lemon – slowly. He continued to analyse Narcissa's every move.

"Stop staring at me as if I am about to blow up one of your precious cauldrons, Severus. I am not a first-year. I have known you long enough not to be intimidated by your glares and sneers."

Narcissa lifted her cup to her lips, inhaling the tea's perfume before taking a slow sip. She shuddered as she realised that she hadn't added any sugar.

"I have something to show you that may be of interest to you," she stated as she added a cube of sugar to her tea. "Trewella is delighted with your progress and Lucius had an interesting and informative meeting with Lewins yesterday. I wonder, are you itching to get back to brewing?"

Severus snorted before taking a sip from his own cup.

"I'm not going to get any peace until you show me whatever it is you are determined to show me, am I?" he drawled as he placed his cup back on to its saucer. "All I ask is that you permit me to finish my tea. I do so abhor to waste such fine leaves."

Severus watched Narcissa reach once more for the sugar bowl, a wry smirk played across his lips; she had already added three cubes of sugar to her tea.

"Are you sure you want to go showing a ghost around your mansion?" he questioned watching as Narcissa sipped her cup.

Smiling sweetly at her companion, Narcissa placed her cup down before rising from her seat. "You're hardly a ghost, Severus, a pig-headed fool maybe, but ghost is pushing things a bit, don't you think? I have only one jar of your face cream left; you could say I have an ulterior motive for wanting to show you my surprise. No one brews a face cream as luxuriant as yours."

Severus harrumphed. He noted silently that if Narcissa had been a student, he'd have to give her points for persistence. "Very well, Narcissa, I can see that I can no longer prolong your agony. Lead the way."

* * * * * *

Hermione stared at their surroundings. It truly was a beautiful place, quiet enough to sit and reflect whilst not being completely isolated. She could hear the joyful shrieks of children playing nearby, but there were plenty of secluded spots to sit amongst the copse. As she looked around, she saw couples walking their dogs. She sighed; Padraig was a complex person, not dissimilar to Severus all things considered. The problem was she felt betrayed by the very people she needed to help her move forward.

"Why did you agree to do it? Why befriend me?" she whispered, turning to face Padraig.

"Minerva told me about everything you did in the run up to the war, how devastated you were when you found out Severus had left you everything. She thought I'd be able to offer you something none of your friends can, an impartial opinion, some pointers maybe on moving forward," Padraig whispered as he placed his arm around Hermione's waist.

Hermione felt her ire build; her fingers began to twitch as she pulled herself away from Padraig.

"Offer pointers about moving forward. Ha! She couldn't have chosen a worse person for the task then, could she? You yourself have admitted that you are not over Ophelia.

"I really do wish that people would allow me to grieve in my own way. I shouldn't have come here with Minerva; I should have spent my summer with the Weasleys. At least Molly would have given me space to breathe and grieve!"

Without another word, Hermione twirled on the spot, Apparating away from Padraig with only one destination in mind.

* * * * * *

Narcissa placed her empty cup back on to its saucer. She waited patiently as Severus deliberately took his time to finish his own cup.

"Are you ready?" Narcissa asked expectantly.

"Lead on, MacDuff," Severus replied, a note of amusement colouring his tone.

* * * * * *

Minerva sat at the small table, taking sips from the large mug of herbal tea; before her laid on the table top was a copy of The Quibbler open on the puzzles page. She was disturbed from her rumination of nine down by the crack of Apparition. As she looked up, she was shocked to see Hermione arrive without Padraig. Where was the wizard? Why did Hermione have a scowl that would petrify first years on her face?

Without a word Hermione stormed into the cottage and stomped past her mentor and friend. Minerva sighed heavily; from the determined and hurt look on Hermione's face, she concluded that all was not well.

Rising from her seat, she mentally berated herself. Had she pushed too hard? Was Padraig really up to the task? Should she have chosen another? Without further ado, Minerva made her way down the small corridor to where the twin bedrooms were. She turned right and looked in on Hermione.

She was shocked to see Hermione standing in the middle of the room, wandlessly directing her clothing into her small carry-all. Magic seemed to crackle in the air. Minerva deduced that Hermione was struggling to control her emotions which were, in turn, causing her to struggle to control her innate magic. She stood frozen to the spot; she didn't know what to say or do to calm her young cub.

"I have to get away from here, from Padraig, from you, too, Minerva. I trusted you. I thought you were genuinely concerned. But, in truth, you're just like the rest of them. You think you know what's best for me; you think I need to forget about Severus."

Minerva was speechless; it was a long time since she'd heard Hermione talk with such anger. There was even a hint of hatred in her tone. Minerva had believed that she was doing the right thing introducing her young charge to Padraig; she had obviously under-estimated the grief that Hermione felt but had yet to confront.

"But I can't, Minerva. How can I forget that he gave his life so that Harry could defeat Voldemort? I look at Harry and do you know what I feel? I abhor him. I look at my best friend and I wonder why he survived yet Severus perished, and that hurts almost as much as the loss of Severus. I look at Ginny sometimes and I'm jealous of her. I'm resentful of my best friend because she has a lover, someone to hold her when the nightmares become too real, someone to tell her he loves her, someone to catch her should she fall, and someone she in turn can soothe and love."

"Hermione..." Minerva whispered as she stepped into the room.

"No, Minerva, I can't listen to you right now. I need space. I need to be somewhere where I know I can be alone and yet I'm not truly alone. Ginny said I could visit anytime. She said she'd accompany me to retrieve the key for Spinner's End. Please, Minerva, respect my desire to be somewhere other than here with you. I won't truly be alone; I'll have Harry and Ginny."

With that, Hermione grabbed the small hold-all and Disapparated away from Minerva, away from Ireland and away from Padraig.

My heartfelt apologies for the long delay that has occurred with this story; an awful lot has changed over the last eighteen months. For those of you who are sticking with this story, thank you for your patience. I have been to hell and I am only just getting back on a even keel.

I would have abandoned this story if it weren't for the support of some amazing ladies. Tales, MorethanSirius, Beffeysue, Scoffy, Teddy, and Quiescent have all cheered me on. Thank you ladies, you rock my world.

As always, Potterverse does not belong to me. I make no money from this amateur work, nor is any requested. Snape's memory of Hermione in class is slightly modified from that which can be found in the Half-Blood Prince during the first DADA lesson of the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts.

I hope you enjoy this update.