Tomorrow

I do want to wake up tomorrow, though. I want to see my friends, kiss my parents, snuggle with Crookshanks, and hold little Ronald Sirius Potter…he smells so sweet when they press his cheek against mine. They say he looks exactly like Ron, except with black hair. I am clearly suffering from a lack of imagination, because my mind boggles whenever I try to form the picture.

I can’t bear the thought of missing the Ministry’s Anniversary Ball tomorrow night. That’s when the Orders of Merlin will be awarded. Severus has agreed to attend in my place, to receive my Order of Merlin, Second Class. “Such things mean nothing,” he tells me, “but I will collect it for you nonetheless and applaud Potter on your behalf.” He does not know that he, too, will be receiving a medal, and will be on the dais with Harry and Professor Dumbledore. That took a fair amount of effort on their part; ultimately, they had to threaten Minister Scrimgeour with the fact that the entire Order of the Phoenix would boycott the celebration if my husband did not receive his due. Eventually, faced with a public relations nightmare, the Minister folded; Severus Snape will receive the Order of Merlin, First Class, tomorrow night.

I already have a dress and everything else needed for the Ball. Oh, I know I won’t be able to dance, or mingle, or even stay for very long, but still, I want to look nice. Ginny brought it over and tried it on me during last week’s visit. As soon as Severus leaves tomorrow evening, Ginny and Minerva will sneak in and help me to change. There’s even a plan to smuggle me in; Severus won’t know I’m there until the ceremony begins.

Of course, I can only go if Bill is successful tomorrow. If he fails, if the curse takes hold for another year, I’ll remain here with Madam Pomfrey for company, listening to the ceremony on the wireless.

Ah, here’s Crookshanks. I often wonder if he can sense my thoughts, where the others cannot. He certainly does appear soon after I think of him. It’s ironic that Legilimency is ineffective on me. Professor Dumbledore believes I’m a natural Occlumens. What a useful talent to have, given who my husband is! It served me well when I first became aware. My thoughts and emotions were all over the place. I’d hate for Severus to have seen or heard some of the things that went through my mind during those first few weeks.

It will be nice to communicate without breaking things, although sometimes the crashes are very satisfying to hear. Once it became clear that I was doing it intentionally, the twins began hunting for small figurines (“The uglier the better, Fred!” “Here’s a real winner, George!”), which they would place on a small platform on the table before me. They charmed the platform to devour the wreckage, thus sparing the house-elves the trouble of having to clean up after my attempts at conversation. Everyone got into the game. I have become quite adept at answering yes/no questions (one porcelain kitten for yes, two china dogs for no) and interjecting my opinion into more complex discussions (all breakables on the table). Severus is kind-hearted enough to reserve his special supply of Sirius Black ceramic statues (“From the Order of the Phoenix Heroes Collection! Buy yours now!” trumpets the advertisement on the Wizarding Wireless Network – Severus purchased a case of them) for times when we are alone. I believe he purposely asks “no” questions, just for the pleasure of seeing me blast away at his former enemy. He knows it would hurt Remus and Harry, though, so he keeps the figures hidden when we have visitors; he says it’s for my sake.

Severus is back now. I can hear him moving around the room, putting things in order. He doesn’t talk as much as he did in the beginning, but the silences are pleasant, even comfortable. He speaks when he has something to say, I suppose, and it feels less desperate. Unforced, even. He knows I understand.

He has asked me to think about what I would like to do, where I would like to go if Bill is successful tomorrow. Do I want to return to my parents? Would I prefer to move to rooms of my own here at the Castle? He assures me that he knows I’ll be invited to join the household at 12 Grimmauld Place, and that he would have no objection to my moving in with the Potters and the Lupins. There is one option he does not voice: my remaining here with him. Yet I remember that first evening, before he knew I could hear him…I remember him saying how pleased he would be if I decided to stay. I will never forget the things he told me, the agonized honesty in his voice. He showed me his soul that night; will I betray that and turn away? Can I?

But I want more than anything to complete my studies. I want to understand what happened to me, how the magic that sustains me came to be. I want to know who whispers to me while Severus sleeps, reassuring me that I will awaken, encouraging me to hope.

In many ways, my life will be easy if Bill fails tomorrow. I won’t have to do anything or make any choices, I’ll merely continue as I am. My friends and family will visit me, my husband will still care for me. I’ll be better off than many other victims of the war, those hundreds who died or whose minds and bodies were destroyed. I am better off, I know, but it’s not enough.

I want to live. I want to act. I want to be myself – Hermione Granger Snape. I want to learn. I want to stand up to the Umbridges and Skeeters of the world on my own behalf, and on behalf of those I love. I want to visit the graves of my friends and help Molly Weasley continue to get better. I want to go everywhere, do everything, know all there is to know. And every night, I want to return to Hogwarts, talk about my day and listen to his, sit while he brushes and braids my hair, and hold him as he sleeps.

He is my home. He is my safety.