The Eyes of the Doe

White sky, over the hemlocks bowed with snow,

Saw you not at the beginning of evening the antlered buck and his doe

Standing in the apple-orchard? I saw them. I saw them suddenly go,

Tails up, with long leaps lovely and slow,

Over the stone-wall into the wood of hemlocks bowed with snow.

Now lies he here, his wild blood scalding the snow.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers

The buck in the snow.

How strange a thing, - a mile away by now, it may be,

Under the heavy hemlocks that as the moments pass

Shift their loads a little, letting fall a feather of snow-

Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

Edna St. Vincent Millay – The Buck in the Snow

***

Almost two weeks had passed since Hermione had refused Neville's offer of marriage. He'd looked disgruntled for a day or two, but he'd cheered up eventually, when he'd finally noticed the regular admiring looks being directed his way by Hannah Abbott.

Neville wasn't the only one who'd found an admirer. Dennis Creevey never seemed to leaved Demelza Robins' side. Hermione was delighted for them; they were by far the youngest candidates, and they seemed genuinely fond of one another.

But there was only one real whirlwind romance at Belgrave: Padma and Dean. Despite her initial misgivings, Hermione had to admit that they were well suited. She couldn't quite explain it – they just clicked. They looked good together; they'd lots in common; and they were both bloody good at baking pies. They were openly holding hands in the common room now, and everyone was expecting their engagement to be announced at any moment. Hermione wished they'd just get on with it; if she had to hear about how lovely Dean's eyes were once more, she was going to have to throttle her best friend.

She was the first to arrive at Belgrave House on Monday morning. After pouring herself a cup of tea, she settled into her favourite armchair in the common room with a copy of the Daily Prophet and scoured it for job notices. She'd been called for an interview for the Potioneer position at St. Mungo's, but it wasn't the job for her. She'd had lunch with Ginny two days before and had found out that some suitable positions would be coming up in the Department of Mysteries. It was definitely more enticing than the thought of whipping up batches of Pepperup Potion at St. Mungo's.

She'd just finished reading an article on Azkaban prison when Draco arrived with the lanky Slytherin whose name she still didn't know. It was the first time she'd seen the tall guy in the common room; he usually bolted after most of the classes and hadn't even turned up for half of them. He was well over six feet tall and very thin, with a pale face, hollow cheeks and dark, brooding eyes. She'd yet to hear the sound of his voice.

Draco grinned when he saw her and perched on the arm of her chair. "How are you this morning, light of my life?" he drawled.

Hermione sniggered. "Very well, thank you. I can't take you seriously at all, Draco."

"And nor should you. Make sure you bear that in mind," he said enigmatically, giving her a wink.

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco smirked. "You'll see. I just hope you won't be annoyed."

Hermione's frown deepened. "What are you up to?"

"All will be revealed this afternoon. I wanted to stir things up a bit; it's getting boring. I mean, we're into the fourth week now, and not a single proposal," he said, shaking his head.

Hermione was glad she'd told no-one about Neville's offer. "What do you intend to do about it?"

Draco tapped the side of his nose. "Patience, Granger. Just make sure you tell everybody when you find out. That way, my little joke will fulfil its purpose."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're such a sly git." She gave a little wave as Hannah, Susan and Katie entered the room. "Draco," she asked in a whisper, "who's the guy that came in with you? I know he was at Hogwarts ..."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought you knew everything, Granger? That's Theo – he was in our year."

"Theo? You mean Theodore Nott?"

Draco nodded. "He's a decent skin. Just bashful, I think."

Hermione watched him at the other end of the room. "He looks different. I don't remember him being in any of my NEWT classes."

"He didn't come back to Hogwarts after the war; he sat his NEWTs with a private tutor. My Mum's friendly with his Mum. I think he did well in the exams – he's damn clever." He turned to watch Theodore for a moment, who had his nose buried in a book. "What class have we got today, Granger?"

"Family Law," she said.

Draco put his face in his hands. "No! I can't stand the boredom!"

Hermione chuckled. "It's not so bad. Besides, I thought you'd studied Wizarding Law?"

"I did," he replied, "for four long, painful years. That's exactly why I don't want the agony prolonged any further."

Hermione smiled and watched Theodore Nott. Draco eventually left her side to talk to Pansy, and although she observed him for almost twenty minutes, Theodore didn't once raise his eyes from his book. Intrigued, she left for her class.

***

Family Law was a bore, just as Draco had said it would be. In fact, with the exception of Pre-marriage Counselling, most of their classes were utterly dull. Hermione had her suspicions that the courses were there to throw the candidates together, rather than to contribute to their future marriages in any meaningful way.

After their class, she and Padma stretched out on the grass of Belgrave Park, enjoying the sunshine. It was a perfect August day, and Hermione supposed there could be far worse things in the world than spending the summer looking for a husband.

"Where's Dean disappeared to?" she inquired of her friend. "He left class early."

"He's gone shopping," Padma replied, grinning.

Hermione sat up, shielding her eyes with her hand. "What do you mean, he's gone shopping? Why are you grinning like an idiot?" she asked, starting to grin like an idiot herself.

Padma sat up and crossed her legs. "He's gone to buy a ring," she whispered.

Hermione threw her arms around Padma and gave a squeal of pleasure. "I'm so, so happy for you!"

"I'm just so excited ... I really, really like him," she gushed, beaming. "Are you genuinely happy for us? I thought, maybe, you weren't so sure about him ..."

Hermione shook her head, still grinning. "I have to admit, at the start I thought you were interested in him just because he's such good friends with Seamus and Parvati. But I was wrong; you're really, truly good together. I'm thrilled for you. Honestly, I am."

They hugged again, and Padma sighed contentedly. "I told him I wasn't pushed about doing the whole engagement ring thing, but he insisted. He wants to ask me properly – bended knee and all that. Then he wants to ask my parents' permission before he offers formally. We're having dinner with my folks on Thursday, so it should all become official on Friday."

"It's wonderful," said Hermione. "You'll be the first happy couple unless Dennis and Demelza beat you to it."

"What about you?" asked Padma. "I think Michael Corner's pretty interested – he's been devouring you with his eyes!"

Hermione giggled. "I've noticed him staring a few times; I wish he wouldn't – it's embarrassing. It's flattering and all, but I don't know ... I'm just not interested."

Hermione frowned as she watched Katie Bell open the little gate into the park and look about. Katie spotted them, and with a little wave, came racing over.

"Hermione," she said breathlessly, "Professor Snape wants to see you. He said it's urgent."

Hermione groaned as she rose to her feet. "What have I done to deserve this? I'm not scheduled to see him until tomorrow. Did he say what it was about?"

Katie shook her head, and all three of them made their way back to Belgrave House, where Hermione climbed the stairs to the Liaison Office. Curious, she tapped on the door and entered the room.

Severus Snape was standing with his back to the door, looking through the window onto the street below.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, already bristling for a fight.

He turned and gave a curt nod. "Have a seat, Miss Granger," he murmured, returning his scrutiny to the world outside.

Hermione sat down, hating the way he began each of their meetings with a long silence, deliberately making her feel uncomfortable. To her surprise, he got to the point quickly this time.

"Were you aware that another offer was to be made for you, Miss Granger?" he asked, returning to his seat.

Hermione gasped. "No, I certainly wasn't."

Snape frowned. "Have you any idea why your suitors appear unwilling to approach you before submitting formal offers for your hand?"

"Are you suggesting I'm unapproachable?" she asked, amused. "Or terrifying?"

"I'm suggesting neither," he said. "I'm merely curious as to why you've received two offers of marriage without your prior knowledge."

He extracted a contract from the folder on his desk. Pushing it towards her, he said, "Draco Malfoy offered for you early this afternoon."

"You can't be serious?" she muttered, reaching for the parchment.

"I rarely jest, Miss Granger."

Hermione read the name on the parchment in disbelief. First Neville and now Draco – she couldn't understand it. She thought back to her conversation with Draco that morning in the common room, and suddenly, she understood. She began to laugh.

"Do you think this is funny?" he snapped.

She continued to laugh for a moment. "Yes. It's meant to be funny. It's a joke."

"Why would this be a joke?" he growled, his ebony eyes shining with annoyance.

"Draco just wanted to stir things up a little," she explained. "Nobody knows about Neville's offer, you see. Draco thought things were getting boring, so this is his idea of a joke; his way of stirring things up."

"Are you suggesting that Mr Malfoy has deliberately wasted my time by coming in here and insisting he wants to marry you?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid so. He told me this morning not to take him seriously; this is obviously what he meant."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I must confess," he said, "I was quite astonished when he named you."

"Really?" she replied in clipped tones. "It may astonish you further to know that Draco and I have become rather good friends."

"Friendship is one thing, Miss Granger. Membership of the Malfoy family is quite another."

Hermione felt such a rush of anger that she almost considered accepting Draco's proposal just to spite him. A dozen angry retorts came to mind. Instead, she took a long, deep breath and leaned forward, placing her elbows on Snape's desk.

"Why do you hate me so, Professor?" she asked quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hate is rather a strong word, Miss Granger. I don't hate you."

"From what I've heard," she continued, trying to stop her voice from shaking, "you've treated all the other candidates, even Neville, with respect. Why cannot the same courtesy be extended to me?"

"It was never my intention to disrespect you. Surely you've learned, over the years, that I'm an unpleasant man?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"I don't expect you to be pleasant; I just expect to be treated with the civility you extend to the other candidates." She glared at him for a moment, trying to interpret the expression in his black eyes. "Do you hate me because I saved your life?"

Snape regarded her for a few seconds and then sat back in his chair. "Do you mean to imply that I didn't wish to live? Or, perhaps, that I resent you because I'm in your debt?"

Hermione shrugged. "You tell me."

"Would you have me lie prostrate before you in gratitude?" he drawled.

"I'll take that to mean you dislike owing me your life."

"Interpret it as you will," he said, lacing his fingers. His eyes returned to the folder on his desk. "Do you formally refuse Mr. Malfoy's offer?"

"Yes, I do," she confirmed. "May I leave?"

"You may."

She made her way to the door. Before she left, he spoke again.

"Before you slam my door, Miss Granger, I wonder if I could ask you a favour. Would you inform Mr. Malfoy that I'd like to see him immediately?"

She replied in the affirmative, and, just to annoy him, she closed his office door as gently as she could.

***

Severus grimaced; no sooner had she shut the door behind her than he was back there, in the Shrieking Shack. He knew by now not to fight it. Instead, he let the memories wash over him.

He remembered no pain from the moment when Nagini had struck him. He'd always regarded that as strange; he could distinctly recall the unpleasant sensation of the damned serpent sinking its fangs into his neck, yet at the time he had felt no pain. As he'd fallen to his knees, there were two emotions. The first was a sense of irony: the Head of Slytherin felled by the very creature that was the emblem of his own house. Then had come the panic. His final task should have been to warn Harry that he was a Horcrux, that he must sacrifice himself, but he had failed. Before he'd even hit the floor his fingers had gone numb as the venom had started its insidious work. He had failed in his task; he had failed Lily.

When Harry Potter had suddenly appeared before him seconds later, he'd thought the venom had caused him to hallucinate. With the last of his energy, he'd reached forward to grab this illusion of the boy by his shirt. His deadening fingers had found purchase on the material: it was no mere apparition – the boy kneeling before him had been very real.

Staring into the green eyes that had mocked him for seven years, he'd willed Lily's son to understand what needed to be done as he'd poured forth his memories. He'd been only dimly aware of Hermione Granger in the background, and he'd known a moment of gratitude for her intellect as he'd watched her conjure a glass beaker and press it into Harry's hand.

As Harry had collected the last silvery wisps of his memories, every muscle in his body had succumbed to the powerful venom. With a final hissed command to the boy he'd sworn to protect, he had gazed upon the green eyes that were so very like Lily's. Paralysis had overcome him. His hand had thudded to the floor, and he'd even lost the ability to blink.

The trio had left him then, and, minutes from death, he'd held the image of those striking eyes in his mind, determined they'd be the last thing he would ever see.

The minutes had passed slowly, and still he did not die. As the shock had gradually worn off, the pain had begun. The venom had only acted on his motor nerves; his sensory nerves had been left unaffected, and the searing torture that was his injured neck could easily have rivalled the Cruciatus Curse.

Minutes had become hours, and through the haze of agony, he'd prayed for death. Finally, as dawn had approached, his breathing had become laboured, and he'd welcomed unconsciousness as it had stolen over him.

He'd become surrounded by mist; a thick, rolling fog that had swirled around his aching body. Suddenly, he'd been sitting upright, cocooned in a light, fresh breeze. In amazement he'd looked at his hands; he could move again, and the pain had disappeared.

He'd been sitting on a swing. As he'd looked about, the mist had cleared a little, revealing a slide and a see-saw. Through the murky air he'd been able to distinguish a single, huge chimney on the distant skyline. It was the old playground near Spinner's End.

The snap of a twig to his left had drawn his attention, then footsteps. Thrusting his hand inside his robes, he'd been horrified to discover his wand missing.

"You don't need your wand with me, Severus Snape," a gut-wrenchingly familiar voice had murmured.

Lily Evans had emerged through the mist, which evaporated as she approached. He'd feasted on the sight of her; drinking in the details of the face that he had so long yearned to see. She'd been dressed in simple clothes: a pair of jeans and a white shirt. Her glorious dark red hair had still framed her emerald eyes, and even after all these years, she had taken his breath away. She'd lowered herself onto the swing next to his, her gaze never leaving his own.

"But you're dead," he'd whispered.

"That I am," she'd concurred, smiling.

"Then ... I'm dead too?"

She'd shrugged. "Maybe ... Maybe not ..." Her smile had faltered a little. "Thank you, Severus, for saving my son."

"He lives?"

She'd nodded. "He lives. Voldemort killed him, yet he lives. What about you, Severus. Do you choose to live?"

"I have a choice?" he'd asked, confused.

She'd smiled again, nodding. "Yes, you have a choice."

"I want to die," he'd insisted.

"You want to die, when you've never really lived?"

"What is there to live for?" he had spat.

She'd given a gentle laugh of disbelief. "There is everything to live for, Severus. You're free now – you've fulfilled your duty. Voldemort is gone; Dumbledore is gone; your father is gone. For the first time in your life, you are master of your own destiny. You are truly free – even I am gone."

He'd flinched at this remark, but her expression had remained kindly. "I murdered you, Lily."

"No. Voldemort murdered me," she'd corrected him.

"Then I condemned you to death!"

"What's done is done, Severus. You made a mistake; you've spent the last seven years watching over my son. You helped him defeat the most evil wizard ever to have lived. You may consider the debt repaid."

He'd looked about him, over the remnants of the playground where he'd first summoned the courage to speak to the woman now seated beside him. If he chose to stay, she would surely still never be his? She'd married Potter; that could not be undone. He'd returned his scrutiny to her lovely face.

"Whether I stay or go back," he'd said, "you'll never be mine."

Her eyes had grown sad. "No, Severus, I will never be yours. I could have loved you, once, but you chose to go down a road where I could not follow."

He'd sighed deeply. "Maybe there is peace here. What is there back there, except for pain?"

"Oh, Severus," she said beseechingly. "There is so much more!"

"For me, Lily?" he'd said, filled with anger and self-pity. "There's nobody for me."

She had smiled a small, secretive smile. "There is somebody for you, Severus. You do not yet know it; nor does she. It will take time. Just remember this: love often comes to us in the most unlikely of places, and in the most unlikely of guises. If you choose to return, Severus, happiness will find you eventually."

He had grunted, looking away from her. He wanted her. He had always wanted her, but he would never have her.

Understanding, she had touched him gently on the arm. "You've got to let me go, Severus. Happiness waits for you, but only if you're willing to let go of the past."

"How is it possible for me to go back? I should be dead ... I've lost so much blood. How is it possible for me to be saved?"

She had smiled that knowing smile again. "Help is on the way," she'd murmured, rising from the swing. "The time has come to make your decision."

"Before I decide, tell me one last thing," he had said. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

She had laughed, and his heart had leapt at the sound. "Of course it's happening inside your head, Severus, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

She'd smiled fondly at him, then. "Do you stay? Or do you return?" she had asked, offering him her outstretched hand.

He had looked at her white, slender fingers. He had wanted to touch his fingertips to hers before considering his answer. Not knowing whether he would stay or go, he'd reached out to touch her hand, when suddenly, he'd become surrounded by mist once more. Then he'd heard another familiar voice calling out his name.

"NO!" he had cried, but the sound had died in his throat even as the pain had returned to his neck.

He had been lying, paralysed, on the floor of the Shrieking Shack once more. Hermione Granger, of all people, had been kneeling before him, calling his name, tears coursing down her cheeks. Regret and pain had taken over again. Lily was gone.

***

By the time Hermione reached the common room, her anger at Severus Snape had calmed, and her amusement at Draco's little stunt had returned. She flung open the common room door to find most of the candidates inside.

"Draco Malfoy," she cried, spotting his blond head. "You complete arse!"

Everyone turned to stare at her. Draco shot her a beaming smile.

"What's the matter, my darling?" he drawled.

Hermione giggled. "You know bloody well what the matter is!"

Padma looked from Hermione to Draco. "What's going on?"

Hermione grinned at her friend. "He offered for me, that's what's going on!"

"What!?" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, rising so quickly from her seat that she tipped her mug of coffee all over the carpet.

Practically everyone in the room stood up, their eyes wide with shock.

"Are you serious?" asked Dean, returned from his shopping excursion.

Draco raised a hand to his brow. "It's true," he said in feigned distress. "I offered for her this morning, and the heartless wench turned me down!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Who said I turned you down?"

The smile slid from Draco's face. "Potter's hairy balls!" he moaned. "You never accepted?"

"Maybe I did ... Maybe I didn't," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. She couldn't help it – she began to giggle. "Of course I didn't accept, you big Slytherin idiot!"

Draco gave a short, relieved laugh. "You had me going there, Granger," he said, pulling her into a hug.

The other candidates looked at one another, completely confused. After a moment, Hermione and Draco pulled apart.

"Potter's hairy balls?" asked Hermione.

Draco shrugged. "Well, you know ... He's practically as famous as Merlin, so why not?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Before I forget," she said, suddenly serious. "Snape wants to see you immediately."

Draco gave a sheepish grin. "Is he mad at me?"

Hermione nodded. "Livid."

He turned to walk through the door, but stopped when Pansy called after him.

"Draco," she said. "You're going nowhere until you explain what's going on here."

"It's quite simple, ladies and gentlemen. I wanted to stir things up a little. Last years' candidates had an offer a day coming through after the first week. Let this be a warning to you all!" Draco exclaimed dramatically. "If you've set your sights on somebody, act now, before it's too late!" With a theatrical bow, he left the room.

Many of the candidates laughed and resumed their conversations. Hermione looked around the room: Michael Corner looked annoyed; Susan Bones was worrying her lower lip; and Neville was darting covert glances at Hannah Abbot. Perhaps Draco's plan had worked, after all. Her gaze travelled to the back of the room, where she met Theodore Nott's dark eyes. He'd put down his book and was watching her. To her surprise, he smiled. She returned his smile and blushed to the very roots of her curls. The already sunny day seemed suddenly brighter.