Mornings

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you to my betas Valady and AmyLouise.

Cinderella Man

Who can catch lightning in a bottle? Set fire to water?

A short while later, he heard a tapping of tiny, wet paws over his wooden floor and drew a heavy sigh.

With a grunt, Severus sat down on a kitchen chair and waited. When a furry figure finally appeared on a threshold, the wizard lifted the pup up and muttering, "Let me just make sure," peeked under his belly. After a quick check, he returned him to the floor, lightly smoothed his wet, black fur and said, "All right, Black it is." And added with a bitter chuckle, "Two is better than one. What do you think, mutt?" Not expecting an answer, he muttered, "hungry?" and poured a little bit of milk into a bowl. Warming the milk just a notch, he placed it in front of the dog. Black slurped the milk with enthusiasm, filling the kitchen with hurried lapping sounds.

Severus drew another sigh and muttered a drying charm over the pup's black fur, chuckling tiredly in the process, "You are not going to shrink, are you, Black?" Then, he healed his knuckles and with the words, "All right, you take your time, mutt. I am off to bed," he left the kitchen, fed up with this hapless day.

Sure enough, time didn't cease its relentless running, and the clock over the fireplace kept ticking, entirely ignoring Severus' tragedy. It was downright irrelevant for the universe how utterly broken his heart was. The sun still rose the next morning, just as always, and the wizard was forced to continue his life.

The new day presented Severus with the Prophet's front-page article from Skeeter and a modest official announcement of an engagement on the third page. Of course, that pathetic piece of paper didn't make it to the garbage bin. It was destroyed, turned into ashes, seemingly by Severus' fury itself. The same unfortunate fate befell many of the following issues of the Prophet as well. The wizard didn't even try to contain himself. Day after day he violently destroyed newspaper after newspaper, at least giving his emotions some outlet.

Severus was at a loss. Doubts and regrets continuously jostled in his mind. He couldn't comprehend how to proceed now. Somehow he was so foolishly, inanely sure that his happily-ever-after would wait for him. Damn! How could he be so unforgivably dim? Molly Weasley must have passed her nonsensical optimism to him. How could he lose so many precious months just dreaming about the witch and doing nothing about it? And now, it was probably too late.

There were days when he was certain that he had missed his only chance forever. And then there were days when he woke up with a feeling that he could still turn everything around. The wizard just couldn't decide on his further actions, if any, and kept torturing himself with doubts and questions. Should he seek out Miss Granger and talk? If yes, what exactly should he say? "Miss Granger, please, do not marry that oaf," didn't sound terribly constructive. "I love you, Miss Granger; please, marry me instead," sounded even more asinine. How could he possibly make her reconsider? And what right did he have to even try? There was, of course, one more reason for Severus' hesitation. That reason had been ingrained deep inside his heart decades ago, that even his second lease on life couldn't obliterate...Severus feared rejection. He simply wasn't sure that he would be able to survive another one.

Eventually, after spending countless hours in a fierce argument with himself, Severus decided not to interfere with Miss Granger's plans. He was too late, and he would have to live with his failure now. Still, Severus chose to keep his job at St. Mungo's. His heart simply refused to give up hope entirely. Maybe, just maybe, thought the wizard, the witch will realise that she made a mistake. What if, a week into marriage, she suddenly started to understand that the Hippogriff, also known as Ronald Weasley, wasn't the right wizard for her at all? In that case, he would be right there, waiting for her. And if not, then he could at least settle for a friendship. With this reasoning in mind, Severus began his consulting career at St. Mungo's, working there on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and conducting his own research at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Meanwhile, Severus' newly acquired pet was happily growing. The wizard was genuinely and pleasantly surprised just how clever that little mutt turned out to be. It took only two lengthy talks over a puddle on the floor and a few intense exchanges over teeth marks on books and black fur in cauldrons for Black to learn his boundaries once and for all.

Within a month, the wizard and the pup fell into a routine. Every day they began with a stroll across the park to the French bakery, invariably returning with a fresh baguette for breakfast. Quite unexpectedly, those joggers and sweatshirts, which Severus had unwillingly purchased in The Gap, came in mighty handy for their walks. How the heck he had managed to buy them in navy blue, he still wasn't sure, but at least, they were soft and comfortable. And because there actually weren't too many Muggles in the park at six in the morning to notice Severus' atypical blue clothes, he decided to put up with them.

Moreover, after carefully perusing random park runners' attire, the wizard decided that he probably should obtain those comfortable looking shoes that they all wore as well. So Severus found a moment to visit Miss Parkinson in her boutique and ask her for help with the trainers she had mentioned during their last encounter. The witch was quick to respond, and on that same day, the Potions master became the happy owner of a pair of dark blue Adidas. Now, he and Black blended effortlessly into the park's morning crowd.

Weeks went by, and summer was already well in its second half as the wizard settled into his new life nicely. To an inattentive observer, it could even seem that Severus had moved on and forgotten about his heartbreak. The only indication that the fire in his heart was still very much alive and burning was the deplorable fate of the Daily Prophets, which still were destroyed quite regularly. Even Black learned that newspapers were bad and needed to be destroyed...a task which he performed with great gusto, although the young pup did get carried away once or twice, ripping morning papers apart before his wizard had a chance to see them. Severus did hate the Prophet, and yet, he was always on a watch for pictures of the happy couple, even though that made his heart bleed. "A masochistic idiot," he called himself afterwards, vanishing another newspaper into oblivion.

To dull the pain, Severus threw himself into his new work and kept himself extremely busy. Soon he was leading a vast number of vital researches in St. Mungo's.

Alas, as the day of that damned wedding drew closer, it was getting harder and harder for Severus to keep his thoughts from Miss Granger. When there were only two weeks left, the wizard was no longer in control of his emotions. Dark, dreadful moods became frequent visitors in the house, and that's where a bottle of firewhisky came into play. Frankly, reality was much easier to deal with after a glass of the fiery liquid.

On Friday, the day before the wedding, the level of his misery became simply unbearable. Severus came home from St. Mungo's with a firm intention to get drunk. He knew for certain that one glass of firewhisky wouldn't be enough. He was on a mission to become absolutely, totally and utterly pissed and to fall unconscious and remain unconscious through Saturday and right until Sunday. Otherwise, the wizard couldn't be sure that he wouldn't Apparate to the wedding's venue at the last moment, shouting, "I object!"

The last thing he wanted was to create a spectacle. Hence, Severus decided to be on the safe side and drank himself into a stupor, crawled to his bed, and passed out. However, even though the first part of his plan went well, the second part of it didn't quite work as he hoped. Apparently, Severus' plan to remain unconscious through Saturday didn't bode well with Black's needs. The pup still woke the wizard up at six in the morning. It took him more attempts than usual, of course. Yet, after about twenty cold, wet nose-pokes, along with his persistent barking and a light teeth grazing over the wizard's bare feet, a groaning and cursing Severus was up and ready to go. Well, almost ready to go. The poor wizard was forced to take an emergency hangover potion and a cold, invigorating shower in order to be able to walk. Eventually, twenty minutes later, happy Black and noticeably unhappy Severus left the house for their habitual morning stroll through the park to the French bakery.

They walked down their usual path in silence. Black was busy sniffing every granite post in the vicinity while Severus tried to keep his foul mood at bay. "Fuck," he cursed. It was going to be a long and torturous day, and the wizard wasn't looking forward to it at all. When they reached their destination, Severus tied Black near the bakery's entrance. "Sit and wait," said the wizard and walked inside.

There, he braced himself for an unavoidable chat with the baker's wife Anouk, who was always annoyingly talkative and, for some mysterious reason, particularly sympathetic to Severus. Moreover, she was determined to find Severus a mademoiselle as she put it. She constantly showered him with offers: a date with one of her many nieces, or a lovely lady from a house across the street, or her friend's daughter. To be honest, only their excellent baguettes were keeping Severus from a sharp retort to her. She reminded him of Molly Weasley, French style.

Severus braced himself, curled his lips into a shadow of a polite smile and walked to the counter, inwardly scolding himself for coming there. He didn't feel well. The baguette was not even a wise choice this morning. It was all Black's fault. To his surprise, Anouk was strangely quiet today. Instead of her standard boisterous, "Bonjour, monsieur," she silently handed him his bread, and smiling conspiratorially, whispered, "Look over there, monsieur. I caught a perfect demoiselle en détresse for you." She accompanied her utterly absurd words with a ridiculous giggle and an enthusiastic nod. "There, look there, by the window," she whispered.

Bewildered by Anouk's mysterious behaviour, Severus turned around and froze. By the window, with her back to him sat a young woman. Her mahogany curls were wet, messy and... so painfully familiar. Severus' heartbeat halted for a few seconds and then restarted, pounding faster and faster with each step he made. When there were only a mere few steps between them, Severus stopped. He couldn't believe his eyes. There was no mistake now. It was she...Hermione, his desired witch, his Miss Granger.

Severus took in her appearance. She looked awfully pale; dark shadows lay under her eyes. Her glazed glance was fixed on the window, though Severus doubted that she actually noticed anything around her. Demoiselle en détresse indeed, he thought and hurriedly made those last few steps. There, standing so close to her that their clothes were almost touching, and hungrily inhaling her light jasmine scent, Severus regarded the witch carefully. She looked tired, as if she had not slept. It had probably rained during the night because the witch's summer dress was soaked, and she was shivering. She was holding a cup of hot coffee with both hands, as if trying to warm her fingers. And Severus couldn't tear his eyes from those delicate fingers. He had yearned for their soft touches for so bloody long.

Before he could stop himself, he rasped, "Hermione, " his throat suddenly scratchy and constricted. A second later, he got a hold of his emotions and corrected himself with, "Miss Granger."

She faced him, and Severus heard her breath hitch. For a few minutes she silently stared at him, evidently not being able to grasp the sight in front of her. It was understandable, of course. First of all, she didn't expect to meet him here. Secondly, she did not expect to see her former Professor in joggers and a sweatshirt, in blue joggers and a sweatshirt. Feeling that the silence between them was stretching into infinity, Severus repeated softly, "Miss Granger, are you all right?"

This time she managed to nod and then asked hoarsely, "Professor, why are you here?"

"I live across the park, Miss Granger. The question is, why are you here at six in the morning on your wedding day?" His words came out a bit too forcefully, but he needed to know, to understand. There was no ring on the girl's finger, for Merlin's sake! His heart was ready to jump out of his chest. Thousands of contradictory thoughts crowded in his mind.

"There will be no wedding, Professor. It was called off," Hermione's fingers began to tremble, causing the cup in her hands to tip threateningly.

Not waiting for her to burn herself with coffee, the wizard moved even closer, took the cup from her icy fingers and placed it on the table. Keeping her little hand in his, he said, "This coffee is clearly not helping, Miss Granger..."

The witch interrupted him. "Hermione, please, call me Hermione," she asked softly.

"Very well, Hermione, what you need is a good cup of tea. Come, Miss Granger... hmm, Hermione. I will brew a nice cup of Earl Grey for you. I have a fresh baguette and a jar of cherry jam. Come."

"Are you sure that I am not intruding, Professor?"

"Severus, call me Severus." He allowed himself to smile. "And yes, I am sure, Hermione." Severus took off his sweatshirt, gently draped it over Hermione's shoulders and led her from the bakery, all the while thinking about how, ironically, this time it was Black who was responsible for his incredible luck.

*Cinderella Man/Eminem