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Peppermint
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Chapter 1
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“Silencio!”
Severus lowered his wand after casting the silencing spell and allowed himself a satisfied smirk.
Excellent. That should be sufficient to mask the noise emanating beyond these four walls when the preparations began later in the evening. Hermione wouldn’t suspect a thing. He had already charmed the room to triple its size “ a necessity when the promised fifty or so guests arrived.
The spell cast, Severus lowered himself into the worn armchair beside his desk. He leant an elbow on the armrest and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long couple of months. He fervently hoped that the disaster that had overshadowed the recent weeks wouldn’t spoil their enjoyment of the evening. One thing was for certain - he didn’t know how he would have coped without Hermione. He would be sure to tell her that tonight….
Just thinking about her made a warm sensation fill his chest. He tilted his head back slowly and sank deeper into the softness of the cushion, letting his heavily lidded eyes close. Ah, that felt better…. He had hated lying to her about where he had been all those afternoons that he had disappeared to make arrangements for tonight. After today, mercifully, that would all be able to stop. He blinked tiredly and fought the urge to steal a short nap, realising that Hermione would be home from work in less than four hours. There was still plenty to do. His gaze rested on the absurdly patterned floor-to-ceiling drapes that she had insisted on furnishing the living room with when they had both moved into the apartment the previous winter. Almost subconsciously, the deep crimson folds caused the image of a red-haired girl to float into his mind. As it did so, an uncharacteristic softness stole across his usually stern features.
Ginny.
Severus quickly forced the image from his thoughts guiltily and rose from his chair. He could only hope that Hermione had not suspected. With a brisk swirl of his robes he turned and exited the room.
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No.
No. No no no no…. This isn’t happening…. Hermione held her head in her hands as she stood before the bathroom mirror, rocking back and forth as she tried to stop thinking. Stop thinking. Just stop. No no nooo…. She stifled a sob and rubbed her face violently with her open palms. Just make up your mind, damn it…. She raised her heavy head and blinked, her tear-stained reflection grimacing back at her. She cursed herself for her weakness. Just go through with it, she scolded herself bitterly. Do you think he doesn’t deserve it? The image of a couple standing close, whispering, rotating on the spot and Disapparating together sprung into her mind, taunting her. Do you think he’s sorry for what he’s been doing to you?
The door to one of the cubicles suddenly banged open and startled her out of her thoughts. A second-year Ravenclaw emerged, shouldering her schoolbag. She saw her teacher and promptly froze. Hermione caught sight of the young girl and flushed.
“Get to class!” she shouted, embarrassed at being seen like this. She had thought that the room was empty, lessons having started ten minutes ago. “Ten points from Ravenclaw!”
The girl paled and backed away. “Yes Professor”, she mumbled, rushing for the doorway.
No sooner than the words had left her mouth, Hermione winced, immediately regretting her outburst. Turning to apologise, she saw the door swing to a close and heard the scurrying footsteps beyond grow softer. She gritted her teeth and raked her trembling fingers through her tangle of curls. When had she become such a monster? She snorted bitterly at the thought of this. The truth was, she could pinpoint the exact point in time....
A tear traced down her cheek and splashed into the sink. She watched it meander its way down towards the plughole - as if it would spell out what she should do. Her heavily lidded eyes closed and she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. Hermione gasped at the coldness of the touch, and the throbbing heat in her temple simmered somewhat. She forced herself to focus on her breathing. In, out…. In, out…. In…. Out….
BAM BAM BAM!
“Come along now, classes have started!”
Professor McGonagall’s stern voice rang out from beyond the bathroom door and Hermione jolted in surprise, banging her forehead against the mirror. She bit back a curse and hurriedly turned the taps on, splashing ice-cold water over her puffy red eyes as her colleague burst through the doorway.
“Minerva!” Hermione spluttered through a mouthful of water. She turned to hide her face as the older witch eyed her in surprise.
“Hermione?” She suddenly stopped, glimpsing the younger witch’s tear-stained reflection, and her voice softened. “Have you been - ?”
Hermione knew what she wanted to say. Yes…I’m confused and angry and hurt and I need help.
But what came out of her mouth was “No, I’m fine.” The younger Professor hung her head. “Something “ something in my eye,” she finished lamely.
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something - then closed it again. Her expression softened as she studied the witch before her. She had noticed Hermione acting more and more distant recently. At first it had been little things “ absentmindedness, lack of concentration “ but lately she had been acting as though somehow she just didn’t care anymore. Not quite knowing what to say, Minerva decided to just be direct. She covered the short distance between them and reached for the younger woman’s arm gently. “Hermione, what is it?”
The younger witch only mumbled in reply and busied herself with the taps, refusing to meet Minerva’s gaze.
“You can talk to me, dear,” she pressed on.
Hermione trembled slightly, aching to be able to confide in someone. It was so tempting. If only she could just release the mountain of anger, frustration, guilt, and goodness knows what else she had been carrying around inside her head. But she couldn’t. Of course she couldn’t.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
Professor McGonagall sighed softly. Hermione would come to her when she was ready. She wouldn’t pressure her. “I’m always here, you know that,” she said gently. “If ever you want to talk about anything.” She waited a few seconds for her words to linger in the silence before giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze and leaving the room quietly.
Alone once more, Hermione gasped and sank slowly to the cold tiled floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to distance herself from the whole situation. Things had just completely rocketed out of proportion. What should she do? Had she gone too far to back out? Did she even want to? In desperation, her gaze flicked towards the ceiling, half-heartedly hoping for some last minute divine inspiration “
And that split second was all it took.
She couldn’t go through with it. It was no use - she just couldn’t.
Hermione shakily raised herself to her feet and faced herself once more. She grabbed a handful of tissues, blew her nose and grimaced at her reflection. Coward, she scorned at herself, turning away. She could almost see a black-haired, stern face
mocking her, laughing at her weakness.
Without a second glance, she left the bathroom.
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By nine o clock that evening nearly everyone had gathered in the lounge, and Severus quietly congratulated himself on the turn-out. His glittering eyes scanned the comfortably furnished room.
Standing by the fireplace were Hermione’s parents, laughing at a joke that Kingsley Shacklebolt had just told the punch-line of. The other members of the Order and staff from Hogwarts, where Snape and Hermione both taught, were busy catching up with old friends. Snippets of conversations drifted over from their various positions about the room. At one end of the lounge, Tonks’ short, cropped hair changed colour and emitted sparks every few minutes as she related a particularly frightening story to Draco and Harry’s twin daughters, Rosemary and Steffi, whose tiny fingers squeezed their godmother Ginny’s hands for comfort every so often.
Molly was standing just to their left, and was stressing the importance of folding flour into cake batter rather than just mixing it in haphazardly, to a very interested Albus Dumbledore. She appeared to be gripping an imaginary bowl in her left arm, whilst miming a folding action with a pretend spoon in her right hand. Albus was hanging onto her every word while mimicking her movements with his own arms.
Those infernal Weasley twins were clearly using this get-together as an opportunity to promote their new line of goodness knows what, to a raptured audience of Monsieur and Madame Bouvier, Hermione’s parents’ neighbours. The twins had just launched into the finer points of the supposedly amazing product only to discover that the couple didn’t speak a word of English.
After checking his watch once more, Snape’s gaze travelled to the gathering on the settee. Potter (Severus still felt unable to address him as anything else), Draco and a few others he recognised by face only were seated on the couch, flicking through a hard-backed collection of photographs of Hermione as a child. Severus himself had perused the album earlier, and was certain that Hermione would be very touched by Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s birthday gift to their daughter. Judging by the huge roar that had suddenly erupted from the group, they had just come across the hilarious shot of a seven-year-old Hermione dressed as the Tin Man from ‘The Wizard of Oz’, in full cardboard box glory.
Not for the first time, Snape was relieved that he had not taken upon himself the entire workload in preparing for tonight. The invitations, for instance. His designated helper had been more than willing to visit nearly all of the guests in the past few months to invite them to come tonight. Severus had felt very smug at being relieved from that particular duty. If there was one thing he despised, it was running around after people. And the young Weasley, always having had a soft spot for Hermione, hadn’t minded in the least.
Severus stepped towards the table that stood just to the right of the fireplace and surveyed the food with a dubious eye. After much coaxing, he had finally relented to the stubborn redhead’s insistence that the food should all be hand cooked. Hand-cooked, I ask you…. The Weasley had insisted that Hermione would be really touched at the effort “ if not the quality, Severus had silently added.
As he surveyed the disaster that was masquerading as a trifle “ one of the Weasley twins’ less successful concoctions “ he stifled a smirk. A freckled face looked up just in time to see him grimace as he peered into a rather sorry-looking plate of dark green mush that was dripping onto the tablecloth, and quickly hid a blush. The home-cooking idea had definitely not been the brainwave of the century.
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By quarter past nine that evening, the only person missing was Hermione herself. She always returned to the Snape-Granger household just a little after nine-thirty, so Severus took time to rifle through the drinks cabinet, looking for something suitable for everyone to toast Hermione with as she walked through the door. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. Quite fortunately, there was no danger of her flooing unexpectedly into their midst through the fireplace of the living room, as Hermione always entered through the front door “ one of the Muggle ways that Hermione still adhered to out of habit.
His thoughts turned to how tonight would be doubly special. An uncharacteristic smile momentarily stole over his features. For now, that was to be his secret. True, things had been a bit strained recently, but his heartbreak only a fortnight ago only confirmed how much he wanted to move forwards and not dwell on the past. His breathing quickened and he found that the mere thought of it was making him quite tense. Severus wiped his palms down the sides of his robes and took a few deep breaths, his nostrils flaring as he did so.
Not long now.
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Rainwater lapped around Hermione’s ankles as the approaching storm threatened overhead. Her outdoor cloak was almost soaked right through, but the witch had barely noticed. The simple charm required to provide a barrier between herself and the terrible weather was the furthest thing from her mind right now. Just a few more steps and she would be home.
After hurriedly leaping the last two steps before the front door, Hermione’s trembling fingers fumbled with the key as she rattled the lock. She hadn’t changed her mind since the episode earlier that day in the bathroom, and suddenly she didn’t care how long it had taken to prepare for this evening - she just couldn’t go through with it anymore. Of course it would have been far quicker to simply Floo home, but that would have started the alarm bells ringing “ literally. Severus had placed an alarm system on the apartment to alert the arrival of anyone through the Floo network “ a security measure, he had insisted, in the wake of the incident just a few weeks ago that had left him shocked and scared for their safety.
Hermione cursed silently as the door refused to budge and in her haste, slammed against it in frustration, anxious to just enter and put an end to all this.
End it. Right. Just end it.
Her forehead throbbed so violently that she could barely distinguish whether it was an internal or external sensation, and only felt relief as the door gave way and she stumbled over the threshold.
She was only dimly aware of her surroundings as she scuffled through the hallway, walking right past the two umbrellas that her parents had carelessly left there when they had entered the apartment just over an hour ago. Instead, her senses were flooded with the images and emotions of the past few months as they all swam to the forefront of her mind, battling for attention.
Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and pushed aside any doubts that struggled to reach the surface as she raised a trembling arm to the door.
She took a deep breath and turned the handle.
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Severus’ hand passed a jug of Firewhisky and paused at the homemade wine that Hermione had been carefully brewing for weeks now. He smiled to himself as he remembered how flustered she had been when he had burst in on her one afternoon as she had been making it. True, she had made it for only the two of them - but this was a special occasion wasn’t it?
Without any further thought he brought it out, uncorked the bottle, and proceeded to fill everyone’s glasses, marvelling at the turquoise tinge to the clear liquid. What an odd colour. He turned towards Ginny, whose goblet he had not yet filled, and paused slightly as her gaze met his. They shared a glance, Ginny’s cheeks glowing a little with anticipation, something that Severus had grown to recognise over the past few months as they had begun to spend more time together. She smiled at him reassuringly “ a knowing, ‘everything will be fine’ smile - and though his face did not betray it, it comforted him greatly. His heart began to beat a little faster when he realised what she was thinking, and whilst anyone looking at him would see a carefully controlled, cool exterior, she knew the nervousness he felt inside regarding what he was planning to do.
Severus surveyed the bottle he was holding. There was just enough for everyone. Perhaps he should really ask Hermione before they drank it, he thought, and a moment later, as he filled Minerva’s glass, she echoed his thoughts aloud. He dismissed her suggestion, however. “You know what Hermione’s like.” Snape’s eyes glittered at his colleague. “She’d be mortified to see everyone tasting her homemade wine before she had a chance to test it first. She’d think it wasn’t good enough.” His eyes softened slightly. “She’s so modest,” he whispered, almost to himself.
Suddenly Molly hissed excitedly, her ear to the door. “WAIT! I think she’s here!” A scuffling was heard in the hallway and everyone held their breath.
A second later Hermione, visibly flustered, entered to the sight of all her dearest friends and family raising their glasses. “To Hermione!” The resounding cheer rang out, startling the wide-eyed girl in the doorway. There were various cries of ‘Happy Birthday!’ before everyone raised their glasses to their lips. Severus was suitably satisfied with Hermione’s expression of complete surprise “ almost shock - and quietly congratulated himself. It had been hell keeping this a secret.
They all downed a large gulp of the clear liquid.
Good grief, Snape thought, his eyes watering slightly. Now that was wine. A lot stronger than he had expected. He smirked, thinking how glad he was that the bottle was now empty and Hermione wouldn’t be able to taste it. He chuckled to himself, eyeing the reactions of everyone else in the room. They had clearly found it as strong as he had. His breathing quickened for the second time that evening - no doubt due to the strength of the wine knocking him for six. He didn’t notice the exact moment that Hermione registered the sight before her. His mouth suddenly became rather dry, but as he licked his lips he was pleasantly surprised. Was that…? Yes…. The wine had a distinct aftertaste of peppermint….
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