IV. Get on With the Past

Chapter IV - Get on with the Past

When the couple walked into the bar, Severus was wiping down the countertop, his back to the door, debating the merits of getting drunk with Kat and a volume of Vonnegut that night, after closing. A familiar voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Ronald, I'm sure they have sandwiches here; you just have to ask."

Severus stiffened and turned around slowly. "Miss Granger...or should I say Mrs. Weasley? So, you've come on holiday at last," he growled. A bead of sweat trickled down his back.

"Severus!" Miss Granger's face grew pale and she fumbled for her wand.

Her companion was quicker, bounding across the room. "You git! What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, pointing his wand at Severus' throat.

"Ronald! No!" Miss Granger's cry echoed in Severus' ears. Weasley's face was bright red, his eyes angry. Miss Granger looked horrified, but Severus wasn't sure if it was because of her companion's reaction or his presence.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't hex his sorry hide into next week," Weasley growled at his wife.

Miss Granger opened her mouth and Severus closed his eyes. He hadn't touched his wand since he had come back to the island: he wasn't even sure if it would respond to him anymore. Now was not the time to find out.

"I thought so," Weasley grated out. "You say you love me, yet you follow him, you try to defend him, and now you can't even give me a reason why!"

"Ronald, it's been five years! I love you! I stayed with you, remember?"

Severus felt like this was an argument they'd had before. Then, he heard a distinct sound: a pump action .22, the property of his boss. It was music to his ears.

"Okay, stick boy, you don't threaten anybody in my bar."

"Who the hell are you?" Weasley demanded pugnaciously.

Severus, opening his eyes, suppressed the urge to snort: the boy obviously had not changed much. Miss Granger (he still could not think of her as Mrs. Weasley), however, had. Was it his imagination, or was she taller than he remembered? Was her hair softer, silkier looking? Had she filled out – curvy in the right places? Severus couldn't believe what he was thinking. It was an effort to force his attention to the confrontation before him.

"Take one more step, boy, and you will be missing several vital pieces of your anatomy," Kat ground out, leveling the gun at Weasley's torso.

"Ron, stop this! Please!" Miss Granger was tugging on Weasley's arm.

The boy lowered his wand and turned towards Kat. "What the hell do you think . . ." he began.

"That's my question. What do you think you're doing, pointing your thingy at my employee?"

"Your employee?" Two pairs of eyes flicked to Severus and back to Kat.

"You have a hearing problem, too? Maybe you two should leave. Now."

"Come on, Ron." Miss Granger was tugging nervously at Weasley's elbow. "We're sorry...it was a mistake. My husband thought . . . mistaken identity . . . We'll leave, now." Miss Granger began to pull the boy back towards the door, but he shook her off.

"It had better be mistaken identity. I'd hate to think that Severus Snape, the great git, murderer, man who thinks he can sleep with my wife, is still drawing breath." And with that, Weasley turned and fled.

"Ron! Wait!" Miss Granger cast an apologetic look at Kat and Severus and followed Weasley out. Severus felt his shoulders lower and his hands unclench...when had they ever been so tense?

Kat lowered the gun and turned to Severus.

"Friends of yours?"

Severus snorted. "Hardly. Former students." He wiped his hands on his jeans.

Kat nodded sagely. "I can understand the animosity, then." And she returned to the back room, where she had been preparing lunch.

It occurred to Severus that the less said about the incident, the better. Vonnegut and rum were in his future, not necessarily in that order, and there was not a force, magical or Muggle, that was going to get in his way.

Lying on his sofa that night, Severus found he couldn't concentrate on either the alcohol or the author. Every time he tried to, Miss Granger's face, Miss Granger's voice, Miss Granger herself distracted him.

Five years of dreaming of her, nights of replaying every argument, every episode from their disastrous relationship in his mind: recalling each word, each look, each touch, had not prepared him for seeing her again.

When Severus realized that he was not going to be able to sleep, he began to prepare himself, just in case she decided to return the next morning. As a result, his hair was neatly combed and tied back, his white shirt pressed, and his best pair of khaki trousers cleaned when Kat found him around five, pacing in front of his couch.

"So, she's not just a former student," she observed dryly.

"Leave it, woman," he snarled dangerously.

"Only if you promise me something."

"What's that?"

"I don't care who you were, Nemo; I don't care if you were a tinker, tailor, rich man, poor man, or spy. While you work for me, you control yourself." She paused and thoughtfully amended herself, "At least, try not to make her cry too much."

"How did you . . ." Severus was not pleased. He hadn't made anybody cry in the five years he had been here. Privately, he missed that special ability to reduce a student to a puddle of tears and snot.

Kat smiled slightly. "I've told you before: you're a screamer, Nemo. I can hear you when you talk in your sleep."

"So, you know." Severus sank to his sofa. He almost ran his hands through his hair, but the twenty minutes he had spent cleaning it and tying it back nicely stopped him.

"I don't know everything, but I do know that she is the somebody you once loved. Even if you don't still love her, be nice to her; this isn't going to be any easier for her than it will be for you."

"Kat, you couldn't possibly know what . . ." Severus began to snarl. Snarling never worked on Kat, however.

"Did I say I did? What was isn't what matters. What matters is what you're going to say today. And I'm assuming, from the fact that you've rediscovered how to use my laundry room, you're expecting to see her again." With that, Kat took herself off to the kitchen and began to brew a large pot of coffee.

Severus was sipping the coffee and staring out at the ocean when the familiar bushy brown head peeked around the door.

"Are you open?"

"There's no lock on the door." Severus didn't look at her, but he could sense that she was fidgeting in the entrance. "You might as well come in."

"Thank you." Staring at his mug, he heard her close the screen door behind her and walk into the room. He heard her pause before his table. Cleaning himself up and dressing nicely had been pathetic. He felt foolish beneath her scrutiny.

"Coffee?" There was no point in being rude. Yet.

"No, thank you. May I sit?"

Severus gestured with his free hand and looked up. What he saw took his breath away – her hair was loose, longer (if that were possible) and definitely silkier than he remembered. She wasn't taller, as he had first thought, but she carried herself much more confidently. She was wearing a pale green dress, long and flowing, that left her arms bare to the sunlight. Fresh sunburn kissed her shoulders, and it took most of Severus' self control not caress away the rash. He compromised with his subconscious: he didn't love her, he had never loved her, but by God, he wanted her. That, at least, had not changed. His subconscious snorted: it knew better.

"Look, Severus, I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday. Ron was out of line; he never should have . . . and I . . . we didn't know."

"You weren't supposed to know. I take it you're still married?" He shifted in his seat, stretching his long legs, and watched her as she sat, adjusting the dress. Severus decided he liked the way the loose cotton draped over her form, still lithe, but curvier, after five years.

"In a sense; we got back together after you left me and have been together ever since. Sort of. Ron . . . well, Ron has issues. But he swears that we're back together permanently. This holiday was supposed to be a celebration of that."

Severus raised his eyebrow. "After I left you? As I recall, it was my flat you left." He kept his tone as neutral as he could. If he drilled her about her husband's "issues," she'd defend him. Severus didn't want her thinking about her husband right now.

"After you rejected me!"

Ah, there it was. That was the response he had been expecting.

Severus looked up and saw the indignant flush rising on Miss Granger's face. Baiting her was still as easy as it always had been. Mentally, he calculated how many more comments he would have to make before she burst into tears. Now was the time to bring up the Weasley boy.

"And are you . . . happy? He obviously cares deeply for you, if he attacks an innocent man without provocation in your... what was that? Defense? Or was it ownership?" Finish with a smirk, old man, really get her going.

"He loves me." Miss Granger stared at his hands, draped loosely around his coffee cup. "Your hands, they're still so . . ." she began.

"Love is, as I believe I've told you before, an illusion, Miss Granger," Severus snarled. She was making him fight for control, and he didn't like it.

"No, it's the most real thing there is." Her tone was firm.

What? Was she actually arguing with him? A horrible, sinking feeling crept into Severus' stomach. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

She paused. "Severus, what are you doing here?"

"Working. Reading. Drinking. I'm on holiday. I might ask why you want to know."

"I just wanted to . . ."

He cut her off. "I said I might, but I didn't say that I would ask you. I don't care why you're here." Maybe if I insult her enough, she'll run out of here crying; it's what she used to do. He struggled to maintain his outward calm.

Miss Granger stood up rapidly, pushing the chair back, and slammed her hand onto the table. "Severus Snape, enough! I came here to apologize for Ronald's behavior yesterday, and to see how you are, and you retreat back into your snarky, bastard self. I will not be treated in such a . . ." Now the girl was yelling. But there were no tears. Severus looked down, staring at the rapidly cooling coffee as if it could offer him refuge from the furious girl...no, woman...before him.

"Fine," Severus snapped, "there's the door. Use it. Leave."

She opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort and snapped it shut. When she did speak, it was a whisper. "I loved you. I wanted you."

"No, Miss Granger, you wanted a project: something to fix" He raised his dark eyes, being careful to keep them as passionless as possible. "Which is why, I assume, you're wasting your life with Weasley." He leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide, giving her a chance to take in his newly laundered shirt, his tanned arms, his physique: improved after five relaxing years of island living. He had gained some weight, but was still fit. Finally, he filled his clothes properly instead of wearing them as if he was a man-sized coat hanger. Let her feast her eyes on this."Thanks to your efforts almost six years ago, I'm not broken anymore."

Silence. And then, "You're wrong, Severus; you were never broken. You were already dead."

That was enough. He rose. "Excuse me; I have work to do. You can show yourself out, I presume?"

"What's the matter, Severus? Is living still too much for you to handle?"

Miss Granger's tone was biting. Severus knew full well from whom she had learned it. He'd heard his own voice use that tone for almost longer than she had been alive. Severus wanted, for the first time in years, to blast something. His wand hand twitched. "What do you know of living and dying?" he ground out.

"Enough to recognize the difference between the living and the dead. I've known that for years. I knew you were dead from the first moment we made love."

Miss Granger stared at him, daring him to make eye contact with her. Severus refused: he would not get lost in her eyes again. He looked at her hands, clenching the back of her chair, her posture straight, her breasts thrust out, her eyes . . . no, do not lose yourself. Remember who you are! "So, Miss Granger likes to practice necrophilia. What a revelation. I'll tell the Daily Prophet." Severus forced a smirk, striving to regain control of the conversation.

"Crass doesn't become you, Severus," Miss Granger replied primly, sitting back down in her chair. And then it hit him: she wasn't only arguing with him, she also wasn't crying. God! She was even being sarcastic! The girl who, five years before, would sob noisily if he even looked at her wrong, wasn't crying. In fact, she was sitting at the table in front of him, calmly staring at him.

"This conversation is over," Severus declared. He was damned if he would fight a losing battle. Standing, he picked up his mug and turned, walking back to the kitchen, where he began to wash dishes, ignoring the roiling in his stomach and his clenched jaw. He heard nothing but stunned silence from the other room, and then the door slammed behind Miss Granger. He grasped the edge of the sink to stop his hands from shaking.

Breathe, he told himself. In and out. One. Two. Three. Four. Like she taught you.

"FUCK!" he roared.

And then there was the thunder of crockery falling to the floor as he swept his arm across the drain board, and an explosion of alcohol and glass in the cupboard on the opposite wall from a thrown bottle, and blood from a cut, and his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor.

Forty minutes later, Kat came back from her morning walk around the island and found him, head between his knees, rocking back and forth in a puddle of dishwater and blood.

AN: Super thanks to those special people who made this possible. They know who they are and will be revealed in due time!

I make no money from this endeavor, but it is a lot of fun!

Challenge information can be found in previous chapters.