Living Under the Same Roof

Disclaimer: Not mine

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Chapter 7- Living Under the Same Roof

“Severus”

I glance at the clock in Sheryl Schrienk's office only to discover that we have been sitting in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour. Sheryl also notices that time is ticking and opens her mouth, most likely to ask a question.

“Steven, can I ask you a question without being too intrusive?” Sheryl asks me hesitantly. I let out a long sigh, hoping that my lack of response will demonstrate just how reluctant I am to answer her. Sheryl pretends she hasn’t heard it and asks her question despite the lack of an affirmative on my part. “What did you do to this girl that she haunts you so?”

I can tell this is going to be one of the more meaningful discussions that often work their way in between trivial chit-chat- a discussion that will cause my insides to twist and my blood to boil.

I consider her question for what feels like an eternity before constructing a response that will not give too much away. “I may not have raised a finger toward her, but I am singularly responsible for her death.”

“How so?” Sheryl asks probingly. I glare at her as I have many times in the last few months. “I’m sorry, it’s just… How am I supposed to help you if you can’t talk to me?”

I let out a deep breath and bring two fingers to my face to pinch the bridge of my nose. “There are some things about me – about my past – that you don’t need to know.”

“I respect that, honestly I do, but we’ve been here for months and you haven’t even mentioned the name of the girl from your dreams. I think that even the smallest bits of information regarding your relationship to her mi-”

“Lily,” I state abruptly, my level of irritation rising quickly. I find myself unable to allow Sheryl to reduce Lily to a mere pronoun.

“What?” Sheryl asks, momentarily confused. “Oh! Lily… What a pretty name,” she remarks, almost consolingly. “Right, well as I was saying, I think a bit of background information regarding you and Lily might be useful in determining why she visits you nightly.”

“Hmph!” I snort. “’Visits.’ You make it sound like she’s stopping by for tea and biscuits.”

Sheryl noticeably bristles. “Oh, I’m sorry, how silly of me. I should have phrased it differently. I think a bit of background knowledge might be useful in determining why Lily attempts to murder you in your sleep night after night. Better, Steven?”

I put on my best derisive grin. “Much.”

“Right,” says Sheryl, still slightly irritated but recovering. “Now,” she begins, slapping her palms on her knees. “Tell me about Lily.”

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“Hermione”

I am sitting at the dining room table alone when Ronald bustles in, broomstick in hand. It’s Wednesday, which means he’s been playing quidditch with the boys from work. He smiles at me as he continues into the kitchen. I smile back hesitantly, almost regretting the conversation I’m about to start, but not quite.

“Ronald?” I ask nervously, following him into the other room.

“Hmm?” he asks, half-listening as he rummages through the cabinets, no doubt looking for food to stuff his face with.

I take a deep breath before I begin. “I think we need to ta-”

“It’s awfully quiet. Where are the kids?” he asks, looking around.

“At your sister’s.” I sigh, exasperated, and try again.“Listen-”

“Nice of her to take ‘em off of your hands,” he remarks casually, turning his back to me.

“Yes it was, but that’s not what I want to talk about.” I make sure to continue before he has a chance to interrupt or change the subject. “Ron, are you…happy?”

He stops what he’s doing and turns around to look at me. “Happy?” he questions, as if he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Yes. With your life, I mean. Is this where you saw yourself after Hogwarts?”

“Well…” he pauses, taking a moment to ponder the question. “I’ve got a wife and two kids, a house not far from Harry and Ginny, and a job that I love. Sure, I’m happy enough. Why do you ask? Are you not?”

“No, I’m not,” I say, before I can back out.

“What is that you’re not happy about?” he asks, his tone indicating that he is genuinely curious.

“Well… I also have two beautiful children, a wonderful home, and a job that, for the most part, I enjoy.” I say this hoping he’ll pick up on what’s missing, but he looks at me blankly before he responds.

“So… what’s wrong then, ‘Mione?”

I look down, memorizing the patterns on the kitchen tiles, my confidence beginning to wane.

“Hermione, answer me. What’s wrong?” he asks insistently.

Tears begin to form in my eyes by the time I raise my head. “It’s you. Me. Us,” I state, gesturing at him, then myself, then between us both. As the words come out, tears start to fall freely down my cheeks.

“Wha-?” he starts to say. Before he can even begin, I interrupt him, something he has done to me too many times to count.

“I’m not in love with you, Ronald. I haven’t been for a long time.”