6. I Could Say...

Chapter 6: I Could Say...

A/N: I put in warnings for violence here. There is no direct violence, only someone relating stories of a violent past. It's fairly mild, but if violence against women and children is a particularly soft subject for you it might be wise to skip those bits.

I'm not Jo. Sad about that, really.

~~Severus~~

Who knew the world could stop turning because of one little witch? Every inhabitant of the castle came to encourage me to rest or go have a hot meal. Without exception, I told them to bugger off. I had no intention of leaving until she walked out beside me.

The students returned, and Dumbledore, in a seeming show of magnanimity, found a substitute to handle my classes until such time as I felt inclined to return. Filius conjured walls around Hermione's bed, even adding a private bath.

Minerva put three house-elves on 'sick detail.' They changed sheets, brought food and whispered their wishes that the 'brave girl who was knitting' make a full recovery. Harry came to hold her hand for an hour and waxed poetic on their many adventures, and then he left.

They all did. They came, tried to help, found their help completely ineffectual, and left. The days and nights began to flow into one another. My mind wandered back to my childhood. In the foggy mist that comes between late night and early morning, I began to talk to her.

"My father hated me. He'd loved my mother, but when I came along, he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd tolerated her magic so long as she pretended to be normal while they were in company. At first, he'd been thrilled with a son.

"That all ended when I was three. I still remember it. I had a few toy animals. I was playing with them on the rug in the lounge. I remember thinking how much more fun it would be if the animals could make noises.

"Suddenly, the little tiger began to growl and run along the pattern in the carpet by himself. I was delighted. As I watched, more of the animals began to move and make sounds on their own. I was captivated. I almost didn't hear my father's voice.

"'Look there, 'Liena. Do you see what your boy's gone and done?' He sounded odd, as though he had to strain to get the words out. I continued to be mesmerized by the animals until I heard my mother cry out. He had knocked her to the floor and was continuing to kick her.

"Her sobs and screams were drowned out by his shouts of fury. He bellowed about how her nasty blood had poisoned me. The bastard didn't let up until she was unconscious. That was the first time. There were many others, and they were far worse.

"It took years before I understood the sounds that came from their bedroom, and they sickened me even more once I knew what they meant."

I droned on into the night about my shitty excuse for a childhood. As I spoke to her, memories I didn't realise I had came back to me. It was both fascinating and terrifying.

I told her that my mother had once confided in me that it wasn't only my fault that my father hated us. I recalled to Hermione in vivid detail the night my mother told me the worst of it. I still don't remember getting the beating, only lying on my bed as my mother healed my numerous wounds as best as she could.

She told me that I had been a twin. She'd been delivered of two boys. I was the elder of the two. We'd apparently looked just alike, though he'd been a bit smaller than me. The both of us had shown little signs of magic early on.

When we were only a few months old, I'd fallen ill. A few days later, Sectus had gotten the illness from me. I recovered, and he hadn't. She told me that my father blamed her for not taking proper care of us. He believed that if she'd taken better care of us, I would never have gotten ill in the first place. He also blamed her because she couldn't use magic to save my brother or bring him back from the dead. Her explanations that magic wasn't a 'cure-all' fell on deaf ears.

Until I showed signs of outright magic, he'd managed to hold his rage in check. But after, he had no mercy. He'd go out drinking, gambling, or frequent brothels. Once or twice, he even brought a woman home with him, laughing in my mother's face before beating her and taking the woman to their bed.

I cried as I unburdened my soul to my wife. It felt good to tell her, even if she didn't hear me. I told her that I'd always secretly feared that if I were to ever have a child, my father's horrible disposition would rear its ugly head in me.

I shed no tears when I told her of the night my father had died. It was the summer before my third year at Hogwarts. He'd been drinking more heavily than usual. One night, he'd beaten me until both my arms were broken and blood ran from both ears.

Then he'd advanced on my mother, brutally raping her right before my eyes. When he was spent, I had prayed he'd leave her alone. But he hadn't. He'd continued to hit her about the face and head. He had dragged her toward the stairs by her hair, and I had known what he meant to do. He was going to try and kill her.

Something inside me had snapped, and I'd began to wish that he'd be the one to tumble over the balcony. Almost before the thought had finished forming in my head, he'd been thrown back from her. With a last, confused look at the both of us, he'd flown over the railing. He had landed on the stone floor of the entry below.

His head had broken, rather like an egg tapped against the side of a bowl. I had no tears for him the night he died, and I still have none for him as I recall my part in his death. My mother had sworn to the representatives of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that he'd fallen in a drunken stupor. They'd believed her story without question. We never spoke of what really happened.

"Years later, after my mother had died, I began to wonder if she hadn't been wishing he'd go over the railing too. Perhaps it was the both of us, using non-verbal magic. Perhaps there really is a God. Whichever, I've never regretted my actions. I know one thing."

My voice choked off for a moment. I quickly regained control and fell to my knees at her bedside. My heart pounded in my chest as I took her hand. This was more of a revelation and had deeper meaning to me than even my wedding vows had.

"Hermione, I swear to you and all that is good in this world, I will never raise a hand to you or to any child we have at any point in the future. If there is even the slightest chance that I might, I swear that I will throw myself into the sea!" I placed a kiss on her knuckles.

~~Hermione~~

Somewhere in the murky blackness that surrounded me, I heard his voice. It echoed in my mind and bound me to reality like a mooring line. Through the deep quiet, the soothing velvet of his words seemed to surround and caress me.

Little by little, it seemed to pull me closer. I listened as he talked of his childhood. I was filled with anger aimed at his father as well as grief for the child Severus had been. Truly, with all he'd gone through, it was a miracle he had any measure of sensitivity or compassion.

I thought about a lot of things. I remembered my parents and thought of the grief I'd felt when they'd been taken from me. I'd placed memory charms on them of such strength that neither Dumbledore nor I were able to restore their memories of their past life. At the very least, Dumbledore had been able to add some details to their manufactured memories so that I could be included in their lives in some fashion.

I'd forged a new relationship with them now. They didn't know me as their daughter, only as a friend of theirs. I'd told them my dead parents had been dear friends of theirs. They were congenial, and on the few occasions I'd been to see them, they'd been truly happy to see me.

The sacrifice of a family was a small one if you considered that they were safe. I had always considered my friends to be family. Harry and Ginny had been wonderful. The Weasleys, Neville, and Luna all included me and by extension Severus in all their plans at the holidays. They were supportive and concerned. My colleagues treated me with love as well.

But Severus made all the difference in the world. He had made me complete and fulfilled. I hadn't even known there were pieces missing until he was a part of my life. Without him, I truly would feel alone. It wasn't that he always gave me my way, either. He loved me enough to argue with me, to point out my shortcomings. He knew the worst things about me, and it was still alright.

His voice washed over me. I don't know if it went on for days or hours or years, and I didn't care. He was there, pulling me back to him like the moon pulls on the tides. The darkness wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it was almost comforting to lay in gentle nothingness with only his voice.

And then, quite suddenly, the sound of his voice was gone. Immediately, my peaceful, meditative state was gone. I was confused and distressed. I wanted to reach him; I needed to get back to him. I wanted to cry out, beg him to come back to me, but I couldn't.

I had only a singular thought. I must reach him. But how?

~~Severus~~

I had talked to her until my voice was hoarse. I slumped forward to rest my forehead against her mattress, a few inches from the hand I'd been holding all night. Exhaustion was threatening to overtake me.

As I drifted into sleep, I saw her there. My Hermione floating as though in a black, star-filled sky. She looked so peaceful. I couldn't reach her. Just as I was trying to jump, a hand reached out, landed on my shoulder, and shook me softly.

"Severus?"

I groaned impatiently before snapping, "Bugger off, old man! I've no wish to hear your nonsensical ramblings."

The old bat chuckled softly. "There is no need to be rude, my boy. I'm simply here to discuss the recent breach in our castle's heretofore impenetrable defenses."

I sighed and sat up. There was no arguing with Dumbledore. "What in the world are you on about?"

When I raised my head, Dumbledore was looking at me with a concerned, yet slightly amused expression on his face. "You managed to Apparate in spite of the most ancient and strongest anti-Apparition enchantment in the world. In spite of your exceptional abilities, I believe I've discovered the reason behind this."

I was actually most curious about to find out, but I was in no mood to play is games. "Then tell me about it or get out!"

My old mentor...honestly, my father for all intents and purposes...looked as though he wanted to again admonish my rudeness. I raised my eyes to his, and for once the blue eyes were not twinkling.

"Severus, thanks to the two of you, we've discovered something I would have thought impossible. Godric Gryffindor himself placed the Anti-Apparition wards on these grounds. To all recorded history, there hasn't been a breach in over a thousand years.

"I went to the Founders' portraits and spoke with them. They were stunned that this has happened. To make short of it, there was one exception to those wards. Only in life or death circumstances can the wards be broken...."

"What a load of tripe! Are you mad, Albus? Do have any idea how many life and death emergencies there have been in the last two decades, let alone the last thousand years? Why don't you tell me it was because the sky is blue?" I sneered at him and mentally cursed him for taking my focus off of Hermione for nothing.

Albus knitted his eyebrows and frowned at me in what I can only assume was supposed to be an intimidating way. "I don't much care for your tone, young man." He stopped and glared at me meaningfully and effectively made me feel like a twelve-year-old again. "As I was going to tell you, there's a bit more to it than that. Yes, the circumstances must be those of life and death. The persons involved must be soul mates. Not only soul mates. They must be soul mates who were created specifically to find one another."

I could only stare at him, mouth gaping. "So not only is your theory about 'true love conquering all' correct, but there actually is a higher power? He or She or It does in fact exist and put such specific care and attention into my existence that at the time of my creation there was a master plan for Hermione and me to be together?

"I wonder how upset Mr. Potter will be when he learns that the entire situation with himself, his parents, and the Dark Lord was a contrivance to put me and Hermione in proximity with the Order. Come to that, how Riddle would feel if he could know that his reason for living, for coming to power, was for us!"

Dumbledore stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. My first instinct was to shrug it off, but I stopped. "Severus, there is nothing in your past that should have given you the gifts of faith, optimism, or hope. But use this as a base for building those qualities within yourself. You have been blessed with something special. Treasure it." He nodded and walked out of the ward.

I was left to think over what he'd said. Hermione was extraordinary, but it was almost too much for me to believe that she was gifted to me from God... gods? Some all-powerful being sent her to me. And, in a cruel twist of fate, was now threatening to remove her from me.

It was then that I noticed the tears that were pouring down my face. I turned back to the bed and again lowered my head to the softness of the mattress. I'd been told that God existed, and I'd been shown that He hated me.

The sobs that shook me seemed to be transferring into the bed. There was definite movement beneath me. Not that it could disturb Hermione in her current state, but the idea of shaking her violently with my emotional outburst was uncomfortable for me.

I did what I could to calm down, though I still felt too discouraged to lift my head. As my breathing began to slow down, my imagination began to run wild. I fantasized that Hermione's hand was gently stroking my hair.

I sighed in contentment as her nails grazed my scalp and her fingers combed through the strands to trail over my shoulders. It was hypnotic. I knew it was dangerous to allow myself to slip into this kind of delusion, but the sensation that the mere thoughts of her touch brought out in me was so powerful I couldn't bear to stop.

"Severus."

I knew I was in trouble. It was one thing to imagine her touch too clearly, but dream that she was speaking to me again was downright destructive.

"Severus."

This time the analytical side of my brain took over. I wondered why my psyche chose to make her voice so weak and strained. One would think that my fantasy of her would be that of her at her best.

Suddenly, the stroking stopped, and the imaginary hand rested softly on the back of my head. "Severus, won't you even look at me?"

My head snapped up to see her eyes open, looking back at me. I had only an instant to register that before the world went black.

Thanks to the admins here and also to all of you who are so kind to read and to review (even those of you who threaten me). It keeps me motivated to write!