Chapters 241-250

The Heart of the Labyrinth

Severus woke with a start. For the fraction of a heartbeat he couldn’t tell what had disturbed him. Then he realised that Hermione was sitting next to him, on the edge of the mattress near his bedside table. Her hand outstretched, she trailed a trembling finger along one of his wands. His left wand, bright birchwood with the wisdom of a sphinx feather at the core.

‘Go ahead,’ he murmured. ‘Take it. They are yours as much as they are mine.’

He hardly dared to breathe, hope’s painful pressure squeezing his heart. For a moment Hermione appeared to hesitate, her hand hovering over his wands. But then she just silently shook her head, rose to her feet, padded around the bed and lay down again.

oooOooo

In December heavy snows and icy temperatures turned Hogwarts into a winter wonderland. For once ice-skating was more popular than Quidditch among the few students who remained at the school for the holidays. On the edge of the Forbidden Forest Hagrid and Grawp built a labyrinth of snow. Professor Flitwick added the final flourishes, little niches with ice-sculptures of magical creatures and cosy igloos with bear and yeti skins spread out on the floor.

Hermione sat in the private library in the dungeons, staring out of the window. Already the sun was setting. The torches around the skating area and the labyrinth glittered like blue stars in the distance.

Her book rested forgotten on her lap. Crookshanks and one of the younger cats, a tom that looked like a grey and orange striped mop, lay curled up in the other chair. In the fireplace a tiny purple salamander gambolled in the flames.

Severus should return from his private lessons with Alina soon. Now in her fourth year, Alina managed keep up with her classmates despite her disabilities. But in September Severus had given Alina a new book, a grimoire bound in green leather, with tarnished silver clasps. The Book of the Dead. It was time for Alina to master Necromancy.

Hermione sighed. Why, oh why is it so difficult to be back?

She bit down on her lip. It shouldn’t be like that! Not with Severus and Harry, Alina, Lois and Ron alive! Certainly, none of them were unscathed. But all of them were back to living their lives, and yes, they were happy. Hermione knew that. She just had to look at them! Lois and Ron with their twins. Harry and Ginny and James-Hermes. She wrinkled her nose at that name. Her poor godson…

Hermione rubbed her aching forehead. She still couldn’t bring herself to touch a wand. Her apprenticeship had ended while she was imprisoned, and she knew that she would never take the exams that would make her a Potions journeywoman now. Most days even her quiet, Muggle-style job at the library was too much for her.

She hated silence, but she couldn’t cope with noise at all. Worse, it seemed impossible to speak aloud what was on her mind—her thoughts, her feelings. Sometimes she felt as robbed of speech as Alina.

oooOooo

The door opened quietly. Hermione turned and watched as Severus entered, sombre as always when he returned from the lessons with Alina.

Black hair; limp, lank, a bit too long. (It looked worse after a day spent in the fumes of his classroom.) Eyes black as coal. She met his gaze. His eyes lit up with an inner fire that caused a jolt of electricity to sizzle through the pit of her stomach. Those thin, sensitive, kissable lips. Bitter lines around the mouth, a sharp crease between the brows. His cheekbones stood out—he was still too thin. And then that proud beak of a nose.

He is not dead. He is alive. Her heart was pounding, sharp palpitations that made her shudder. Her eyes prickled. Alive. Alive!

‘How about a walk?’ Severus asked gently. ‘You shouldn’t sit cooped up inside all day.’

‘All right.’ Her smile trembled on her lips.

Sometimes the walls of Hogwarts crushed her with their weight until she was close to screaming with claustrophobia. Ironically, being outside didn’t help. There, she felt too small, too exposed, too helpless.

‘Hermione?’ He took her hands and drew her close against him. ‘What is it?’

She looked up. His gaze was tender with concern. She opened her mouth—but once again words failed her. Mutely, she shook her head, ashamed of her tears.

oooOooo

Outside the night was closing in, freezing midwinter blackness flowing from hills and glens. But bundled up in winter cloaks, scarves and bonnets, the cold barely touched them. The bright windows of the castle, as well as the lanterns lining their path kept the darkness at bay.

‘Come.’ Severus held his hand out to Hermione. ‘Let’s walk the labyrinth together.’

Hermione shuddered, but she took her husband’s hand. Snow crunched under their steps and the sound of laughter drifted up from the lake. Hand in hand they entered the wintry walls of the maze. The ice glowed green and blue around them, illuminated by magical torches.

Their path was slippery. Many feet had worn away the snow, leaving behind glistening ice. They stumbled and skidded. Hermione grabbed at Severus to keep herself from falling. Then Severus slipped and they landed in a heap, laughing and breathless.

At last they came to the centre of the labyrinth. Professor Flitwick had decorated it with an ice sculpture, too: a rose in full bloom.

Hermione inhaled deeply, once, twice, three times. The freezing air burnt her throat and lungs. ‘I remember Chartres,’ she said at last. ‘The flower of life, you called it. God at the centre. Or the blossom of magic. A pilgrimage towards enlightenment—and salvation.’

‘To the heart of the labyrinth,’ Severus whispered. ‘Can you see it, Hermione? We have reached it.’

Hermione lifted her head. Caught in her husband’s embrace, within high walls of ice and under a wide, starlit winter sky, she suddenly felt free.

She smiled. ‘And I’m still singing.’

oooOooo

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