Chapters 171-180

Twisted Branches Upon the Beach

Severus Snape sat in his private study and watched the sun rise on Tuesday, 2 January 2001. It was 8:47 a.m. and the clouds were brightening with a clear, icy morning.

The frozen lake groaned and cracked against the walls of the castle.

He experienced a certain satisfaction at seeing the sunrise. Although he was by no means sentimental about it, sunrises were definitely on his list of things you should see one more time before—

He lowered his gaze to the Pensieve on his desk.

Here was a treasure even more precious than a last sunrise. And a treasure he knew he had not deserved to see. At the same time Severus was acutely aware of the fact that he was selfish enough to revel in what he had seen—even if the potion failed. Because without the Sempiternal Solution, he would never have had glimpsed what this Pensieve contained.

oooOooo

She lay with her face pressed against his shoulder…

Her face had the astonished and slack expression of someone who is without pain for the first time in weeks. He watched how she drew a deep breath, and how a look of intense relief brightened her brown eyes to golden amber.

He saw himself, how he reacted to that slight movement. His left arm tightened his hold around her waist and pulled her closer in his sleep.

Hermione closed her eyes again in this memory and lay still, sheltered in his embrace. More than that, she burrowed her head against his chest and breathed deeply, inhaling his scent as if it was some kind of heavenly perfume.

He watched Hermione’s face, floored at the intensity of feelings so clearly visible. When tears began to trickle from the corners of her closed eyes, the memory faded…

oooOooo

He winced as he watched her recoil slightly…

‘Leave me be, harpy,’ his memory-self snapped at Hermione. ‘I can’t endure this constant bossing, bullying, and nagging a second longer.’

‘You’re in pain, Severus. That’s what’s making you so cranky. Please take your potions. And do get some rest. You know what Poppy said!’

‘For fuck’s sake, Hermione. I’m not a damn pet project. I never asked you to save me.’

She stood her ground in silence. Eyebrows raised, she glanced pointedly at the array of phials on his desk.

‘I’ll take those thrice-damned potions. Now go and leave me alone.’

He hadn’t seen it then; he’d been much too preoccupied with the simple act of staying on his feet, arms imperiously crossed in front of his chest and turning his back to her, weak with pain and fever.

But now he saw how she hesitated in the doorway. There were tears in her eyes—his harsh words had obviously hurt her—but at the same time she was smiling, a most curious, gentle smile. A surreptitious flick of her wand moved his chair just a foot behind him. He scowled, even in retrospect. What does the damn woman think, mollycoddling me like that?

Caught in her memory, he followed her out of the room, watched how she silently closed the door, walked three steps, then leant against the wall, and slowly slipped down to the ground as if her knees were too weak to carry her.

She was shaking all over. Coming closer, he was horrified to see her sobbing.

But when he knelt down next to her to understand what she was whispering, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing before the scene drifted away: ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you, dear Lord. That damn git’s going to be all right after all!’

oooOooo

The last memory…His cock twitched, and his balls tightened when he thought of it.

She’d chosen the moment of orgasm.

Her legs wound around his hips to pull him deeper into her body. Their hands linked and pressed into the mattress. Her head thrown back. Eyes squeezed shut. Mouth slightly open—and he remembered that moment, that very moment, how could he ever forget it? The beautiful, shrill keening sound elicited by her release…

And the memory of his own climax, only seconds later.

He shook his head to dispel the daze that seemed to come over him whenever his thoughts strayed to that morning in Spinner’s End.

oooOooo

When Severus met her in the morning, the puffy, dark bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t slept at all. Hermione frowned warily. Severus’ crankiness increased exponentially to his weariness.

But this morning his demeanour was almost…gentle.

‘Here are the copies of your memories,’ Severus said softly. The contents of the Pensieve glowed in a pale blue instead of the usual silver. ‘I’ve done my best to…reproduce them…most faithfully.’

Heat suffused her face, and a mirror doubtlessly would have revealed a most embarrassing blush. Then she took the Pensieve, carefully set it aside on her desk and turned to him with a mock-scowl.

‘You impossible man,’ she exclaimed. ‘What kind of memories did you expect me to use? The time you reduced me to tears over my cursed teeth when I was still a child? One of a thousand potions lessons? One of a hundred Order meetings?’

Hermione leant against him, encircling his waist with her arms. She inhaled his spicy scent and delighted in the visceral reaction of his body to her closeness. ‘I need this potion to work. I need you to come back to me.’

He didn’t reply, but pulled away and reached for her hands. ‘These are for you,’ he said gruffly. ‘And now I need some rest before we can commence with the brewing.’

He spun on his heel and disappeared before Hermione had a chance to say anything.

In her hands lay a tiny phial that could be worn around the neck as a pendant. Inside the crystal, the copies of the memories that Severus had extracted for the Sempiternal Solution swirled around in shimmering hues of silvery blue.