Chapters 161-170

Debris of Forgotten Years

‘He figured out that my mother was a witch, you see.’

‘Then he didn’t mind that she was a witch?’ Somehow, from the bits and pieces of Severus’ memories that were publicly displayed, she’d assumed…

‘Yes and no. He was raised a strict Protestant, and I believe that in spite of loving my mother, he never stopped thinking that magic is…evil. He definitely didn’t approve of ‘foolish wand waving’. Magic should be reserved for ‘important things’, he always said. Not be squandered on personal comfort.

‘He didn’t like the magical adaptations made in the house—enlarging the rooms on the inside, putting in the Aga, the bathroom. But all of those were gifts from my great-grandparents. He couldn’t refuse them.’

‘So they did love each other, your parents?’

‘I think so. Once, at least.’ Severus absentmindedly trailed his index-finger over his lips. ‘My mother’s grandparents were poor, but kind. Or at least that’s how I remember them. I don’t think they’d have forced her to marry someone she didn’t love.’

Hermione sat up. When she took Severus’ hand and drew it towards her, he didn’t protest, but linked his fingers with hers. ‘What went wrong?’ she asked.

‘Perceptive as ever.’ For a while he was silent. ‘Nothing. Everything.’

Suddenly Hermione thought that she heard some kind of strange scratching noises from above the bedroom again. But before she could say anything, Severus went on speaking, and she didn’t dare to interrupt him.

‘When it came to those “important things”, it turned out that magic was not enough. And that in turn, was more than enough to destroy whatever there was between my parents.’ He sighed. ‘Magic wasn’t enough to keep the ramshackle machinery of the mill from falling apart. It wasn’t enough to save the life of my father’s best mate when a belt snapped and threw him against a carding machine. Magic didn’t keep the mill from bankruptcy, and it didn’t provide a new job for my father. Or enough beer to drown his discontent. And last but not least, it didn’t keep my mother from dying of cancer while I was away at school.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She thought of her own parents, of the easy harmony that had always existed between them, of her comparatively carefree childhood.

‘Don’t be,’ Severus told her in a gruff voice. ‘I may not have had a happy childhood, but it was not as bad as it could have been. Growing up in Spinner’s End, I was quite aware of how much worse family life could be. And for a few years, I had my great-grandparents and their house. My very own magic kingdom.’ A wistful smile softened his features. ‘I used to dress up as a wizard. I had an old black coat, a hand-me-down from my father. I thought it looked like a robe. In truth it was only huge and shabby. And…’ He shook his head. ‘I think originally it must have been some kind of frilly Victorian blouse. But it reminded me of my great-grandfather’s dressrobes, right down to that dusty smell of lavender.’ He raised an amused eyebrow at Hermione. ‘His dressrobes looked very much like the monstrosity Weasley wore for the ball of the Triwizard Tournament.

‘But I loved them all the same.’

‘You remember such details about that ball?’ Hermione goggled.

‘Of course.’ Severus smirked. ‘Including your dress and—’ She fidgeted, discomfited.

‘Hush, don’t worry.’ He raised his hand and stroked back a lock of her hair. ‘I was charged with watching out for Po—for Harry. So by default, I ended up keeping an eye on all three of you.’

‘Oh. Hmm.’ She sucked in her lower lip. Rolling her eyes at him, she added, ‘That only goes to show how much more you know about me than I do about you. No fair.’ But then she smiled. ‘So you liked dressing up as a wizard? That’s cute.’

Predictably, he grimaced at her choice of words. When something occurred to her, Hermione spoke without thinking: ‘Wait, wasn’t that in the Memories? I think I remember a scene in which you were about nine, when you first met Lily…’ She trailed off, her cheeks burning. The vein at his temple pulsed at a sudden surge of emotion, and his expression hardened. Talking about Severus’ past was walking through a minefield.

At last he simply nodded and replied, ‘Though that first meeting did not work out the way I’d planned it, the way I’d imagined it—but what in my life ever did?—it was still one of my happiest memories for a long time.’

‘What happened to your great-grandparents? And to your father?’

‘What do you think happened?’ he snapped, suddenly impatient. ‘They died. By the time I went to Hogwarts my great-grandparents were old even by wizard standards. They died during the winter of my second year. My mother died the summer between my third and my fourth year at Hogwarts. My father…’

‘What about your father?’

‘Died in a nursing home in the summer before you started at Hogwarts. There—now you know all about my childhood. Are you happy now?’

‘I—’ Hermione frowned. ‘I—Why are you suddenly so angry?’

Severus rubbed his hands across his face. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position and scowled at Hermione. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. I simply prefer not to remember my childhood. I haven’t thought about it in a very long time. And I’ve never talked about it before.’ He took a deep breath. ‘At first I was alone, the only wizard’s child in an all-Muggle neighbourhood—and then, at Hogwarts, I was quickly made aware just how pathetic my upbringing was.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated softly.

A rapid scratching cut through the silence, followed by a muffled thump.

This time, Severus heard the noise, too.

Wand in hand, he catapulted from the bed. ‘Stay where you are!’ he ordered and ran from the room.