Chapter 23 – Fallout From The Fall Out

Chapter 23 – Fallout From The Fall Out

The weeks following Ginny's confrontation were some of the worst Severus had experienced since the time of Voldemort. He found himself plunged into a pit of despair, the likes of which were on a par with losing Lily's friendship.

Lily. Yes, he could not deny that Lily Potter bore a great deal of resemblance to Ginny Potter, and it was in more than just name alone. They were both red-heads, both brave Gryffindors, and had both married insufferable, speccy little four-eyed twits. They were passionate and compassionate; by turns as fiery as the sun and colder than the surface of the moon. They were beautiful and feminine, but had keen intelligence and a playful sense of humour. And they even both had an affinity for cats. Given all this, it was no surprise that he'd fallen head-over-heels, but Ginny was not merely a Lily substitute.

Ginny had known poverty and hardship, whereas Lily had been brought up in middle-class comfort. And this turned out to be a key distinction between the two. There had always been a part of Severus that had felt he was never quite good enough for Lily, no matter how kind she had been to him. Maybe it was that nagging doubt that had driven her away from him in the first place: the knowledge that, no matter what Severus went on to achieve, in her eyes he'd only ever be the weird, scruffy Snape boy from Spinner's End on whom she'd taken pity.

But it wasn't like that with Ginny. It felt as if they were on an even footing from the start – they had both escaped a life of second-hand clothes and hand-me-downs and had forged their own way in the world. She was also a mother, and of all the qualities Severus thought he was looking for in a woman, the word "maternal" would surely come right underneath "Hufflepuff" on his undesirable list. However, he didn't view her as a mother, nor as the wife of Harry Potter, nor even as Senior Quidditch Correspondent and minor celebrity. To him, she was simply Ginny: glorious, sexy, wonderful Ginny.

But, as with the first red-head that had grabbed hold of his heart, it seemed inevitable that Severus would end up ruining it, like he'd done before. How was he supposed to know that Ginny would desire his Polyjuiced form and he'd be unable to resist her? How was he to know that their coupling would be explosive and addictive? And how could he have guessed that he would start to develop feelings and the whole situation would spiral out of control?

It was right that Ginny should be angry. He'd lied to her, and he'd violated her. But when she'd walked away from him it felt like history repeating itself; the memory of Lily's abandonment came flooding back and made Ginny's rebuttal a double rejection. She'd even used the same words as Lily had, all those years ago.

Severus knew it was foolish to have fallen for Ginny. It had been an utter sham. She'd thought she had been having an affair with a macho, masculine hunk. No wonder she was angry when she found out it was actually him, Severus Snape: bitter, sallow, ugly, and with a nose so crooked, it could open bottles of Butterbeer. Who could love him? Certainly, no one else ever had. So why should she?

All of these thoughts plagued Severus over the weeks following the argument with Ginny. He was consumed with guilt and remorse, brooding for hours whilst sipping thimbles of Firewhiskey. Soon, he was drinking straight from the bottle. Although usually he rarely felt lonesome, these days he felt empty and isolated. His appetite decreased, and he found he had no interest in his daily routine. His copies of the Daily Prophet were left unread on the windowsill where the owl had delivered them, and he'd even stopped going for his morning walk. His potion lab remained closed; he didn't even have the energy to open the curtains in the living room. What use was the new light of spring when everything inside him was dark?

Ginny, too, felt thoroughly miserable and alone. Her interactions with Harry had reached a new low. Harry's smug expression when she'd returned from confronting Snape was almost more than she could bear, and her broken demeanour had reaffirmed to him that he had been right about Alfric's identity. From that point on, they had suddenly turned in to one of those wretched couples that only communicated through their children, whilst trying to keep up a flimsy appearance that all was well in front of them. And when the children weren't around, the atmosphere in the house was colder than Siberia. Ginny accepted the silent treatment as her punishment; after all, she was the one that was in the wrong. She was the one who had cheated. She'd hurt Harry, she knew that, and Harry had every right to be angry. But his passive-aggressive behaviour was much more upsetting to Ginny than if he faced up to her and had a blazing row. Ginny did not know if it was possible for her and Harry to heal their relationship after everything that had happened. Furthermore, she didn't know if she actually wanted to. But for now, for the sake of the children, they stayed under the same roof.

On top of this, she found that her enthusiasm for her job had all but slipped away; indeed, just getting up in the morning seemed to require superhuman strength, and her Quidditch reports became shorter and less engaging as her attention was mired by her own misery. Life had become something to endure, and sinking into an empty bed every night was no solace either.

Ginny had gone over and over the events that had led her to this point a hundred times or more. It was true that she had initiated things in the first place, and so she had to take some responsibility for her actions. But what puzzled her was the mourning that she seemed to be going through for the end of the affair. Why was she so cut-up about it? Was it the lies and betrayal that hurt the most, or was she actually missing "Alfric"? She had to concede that their physical encounters had been more intense than anything she had previously experienced. Their bodies seemed to work in synchronicity, and it had been obvious that the passion was not merely one-sided. She could understand Snape being physically attracted to her – not that she was vain or thought herself particularly good-looking – but men were men and most would not turn down sex with an eager partner. What she was struggling to come to terms with was the fact that Snape had actually developed genuine feelings for her.

He certainly seemed full of remorse when she had confronted him, and that was a side of Severus Snape she had never seen before. Of course, just like everyone else at the Battle of Hogwarts, she had discovered that his motivation for protecting Harry and bringing down Voldemort had been his enduring love for Harry's mother. And whereas this knowledge obviously changed most people's perceptions of the sullen ex-headmaster, it was still difficult to imagine him ever being tender and gentle. Yet he had been, with her. They had enjoyed intense sexual pleasure, but they had also known real intimacy together. That kind of intimacy was not something that could be faked, surely? The way he'd held her after their moments of passion seemed so real, as if every caress held meaning. They'd got on so well, as if they intuitively understood each other. Their banter was peppered with playful teasing. It seemed incredible that Severus Snape could be capable of interacting with a lover in such a way.

Ginny reflected on the professor as she'd known him, during his year as headmaster of Hogwarts. With hindsight, she could see what a perilous tightrope he'd had to walk, and whereas he allowed the Carrows to be in charge of all punishments, he never laid a finger on any of the pupils himself. He never needed to; his words were often far more powerful than the use of his wand, and he could strike terror in to pupils with just a glare. She often wondered how much more difficult she and the surviving members of Dumbledore's Army had made his task of helping Harry, with their foolish and unsuccessful attempt at stealing the Sword of Gryffindor. Once the truth about Snape's allegiance had been finally revealed, it seemed ironic to Ginny that the ex-Head of Slytherin was actually as brave as any Gryffindor.

There was no doubting he must have had nerves of steel in order to hoodwink Voldemort for so long, and that he'd possessed a high level of loyalty, to both Lily and Dumbledore. These were all established Gryffindor traits. And whereas Slytherin had become a synonym for evil and unpleasantness, their core attributes were actually less nefarious when taken at face value. Cunning, resourcefulness and ambition were at the heart of that House, all of which Snape clearly owned in spades, because without the marriage of Gryffindor and Slytherin qualities, Ginny was amazed to realise, he probably would have failed at being a double-agent from the very start.

Yet for all that, in his time as a teacher, he'd been cruel and vindictive, mean and inapproachable. He'd favoured his own House over all others, and had found any excuse to goad and be unpleasant to almost everyone else. But how much of that was actually him, and how much of that had been a carefully-constructed mask in order to make his life as a spy easier? Given the hand he'd been dealt in life, it was easy to see why he had become bitter. He was an enigma; indeed, it felt like no-one, aside from Albus Dumbledore, actually knew the real Severus Snape at all.

But Ginny had seen a different side of him during her affair. She'd seen a man who had a biting sense of humour that could match her own; a man who was a generous lover, with a sharp intellect, and who was gentle and tender. And, surprisingly for her, a huge Quidditch fan. He'd even confessed he supported the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny's old team.

She had to concede that she had fallen for the personality of "Alfric" as much as his physical form. After a shaky start, they had got on well; there was no two ways about it, they had just clicked. Spending time with him was easy and never felt forced. But where did that leave her now? Did that mean that she, Ginny Potter, was actually in love with and pining for Severus Snape? And if she was, what in the name of Merlin was she going to do about it?