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Drama

Just to Be by Amarti [Reviews - 7]

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Apparition gives one the unique sensation of being forced through a tight, narrow tube so constricting that the lungs are compressed and the witch or wizard attempting such an action often feels suffocated. Fortunately for said witch or wizard, Apparition is nearly instantaneous, and thus the feeling only occurs for a fraction of a second. After a moment of discomfort, the Apparating witch or wizard may carry on as normal.

When Severus arrived at his destination, however, he collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing and heaving and gasping for air. He collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky as he struggled to calm himself by taking deep heaving breaths.

Oxygen had never tasted so sweet.

It had been the longest Apparition of his life, taking several long minutes to complete. He was more accustomed than most to Apparating without a specific destination in mind; every time he touched his wand to his Dark Mark, he was transported to an unknown location. It had been such a constant and frequent occurrence in his life that occasionally, when not Apparating in response to the Dark Lord's summons, he had failed to Apparate because of the elementary error of failing to concentrate on his intended destination. Other times, he would be thinking of other things and Apparate to the wrong location.

This Apparition had different from all the others.

Where London had been dark and foggy and bathed in moonlight, he was now lying in bright sunlight and staring at a cloudless blue sky. The weather was warm, too warm for the late winter of England, and him without even a cloak on. Looking around, he realised that he was nowhere near London or England or even Europe, given the time of day and the weather. He had, despite all known limitations of the power of Apparition, apparently Apparated across the globe in one go.

Leave it to Albus Dumbledore to invent a device powered by love.

Dumbledore had often waxed poetic about how love was the most powerful magic known in either the Wizarding or Muggle worlds. Between the dancing ball of light and the otherwise-impossible Apparition across continents and oceans, Severus thought that maybe the old man hadn't been such a sentimental fool after all. Perhaps, in this area at least, there was truth behind his words. After all, Dumbledore had created the Deluminator with his own two hands, carried it with him for years, and bequeathed it to Ronald Weasley, who had given it to Severus. A curious and unexpected chain of custody, to be sure.

As Severus fought to catch his breath and control his breathing, thought about what would have motivated Dumbledore to create such an object. He wondered whose voice Dumbledore had yearned to hear echoing out of the cylinder in a burst of light, and hoped that Dumbledore too had awakened to the sound of his beloved calling his name. Severus had never asked the old man about his love life. He wished now that he had. Their conversations had always been about the Dark Lord, or the war, or the Order, or Hogwarts, or the Potters, or Severus himself. Never about Albus Dumbledore. Never.

Shaking his head (why on earth was he thinking about Albus Dumbledore at the moment, anyway?), he jerked his head around in a frantic search. The light had sent him here; now all he had to do was see whether he had found the right spot. He thought it was right. It felt right.

He ran his fingers along the ground. Sand. He was on a beach. He tilted his head to the side and watched the waves crash into the shore. He heard the cry of a seagull far away. At least, he thought it was a seagull. It sounded a little different from the kind he was used to hearing.

He sat up, sand clinging to his Disillusioned body. A swish of his wand banished the sand that lay atop his clothing as well as the sand that had already wedged itself into his crevices. How did sand always manage to do that?

He climbed to his feet on shaky legs, looking about. The beach was in a crescent-moon shape, surrounded by buildings and cliffs and a road. The water was a deep blue, so blue. There were a few people walking about in black full-body suits, carrying long boards. Surfers. The wind whipped Severus's short black hair about his face. She must be close; he had known it as surely as he had known anything else in his life. He, a man that spent his life dressed in black but saw everything in shades of grey, considered this significant.

He scanned the benches and cliffs for her, his eyes finally settling on a figure sitting atop one of the cliffs, bushy brown hair whipping in the wind, knees drawn to her chest. It was her. Severus let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding when he saw she was safe. Melancholy, but safe.

Severus really didn't fancy climbing up there, but having just completed what should have been an impossible Apparition, he did not think it advisable to do another so soon; he did not think he could do so without splinching himself. Fortunately, it would not be a straight climb up the cliffs. Conveniently, there was a path leading from the beach up to the top of the cliffs where she was perched, which is how he suspected Hermione had got up there. Though he was exhausted and sleep-deprived and still out of breath, he tucked the Deluminator in his pocket and made his way toward her as quickly as he could.

Halfway there he cast a silent Finite on himself to end the Disillusionment; it wouldn't do to frighten her by appearing out of thin air, even though as a witch she was used to it. No, he would be visible in his approach, give her the option of turning away and leaving without speaking to him, if that was what she wanted. He thought not, but he felt he owed her that option.

He slowed his steps as he approached her. Having come this far, he didn't know what he wanted to say to her.

What could he say to her?

--------

For the second time in her life, Hermione Granger had made an impulsive and reckless decision without thought to the consequences, and again it was because of Severus.

Curious how it took a Slytherin to make her act like such a Gryffindor.

She had come here without thinking, blindly believing that things would be all right once she did. As the recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, she—like Severus, who also had one—had the freedom to create her own Portkeys. It had not taken long for her to realise the folly of her decision.

She had just abandoned her family. Walked out on the children she had come to think of as her own. Run out on them, without a word.

She sighed. She wanted to go home.

Could she? Was it even her home anymore?

The words that Severus had screamed at her in the Shrieking Shack twelve years earlier felt quite fitting at the moment.

Stupid girl.

His words the other day had cut her deeply, to be sure. She wasn't proud of the night with Harry—from the circumstances of it to the act of it to the aftermath of it, she was not proud of the way they had handled themselves. She had taken comfort in the fact that it was only once, and that they had been driven to it by difficult circumstances. She had taken special comfort in the fact that it had been kept completely secret—never mentioned in any books or other accounts of their time in the war, never mentioned in the gossip columns or tabloids. Ginny and Ron had proven reliable confidantes. She hadn't thought it would ever come up on another relationship, but of course, with Severus Snape, secrets had to come to light. She hadn't been proud of the fact that she'd now slept with all but one of her male friends, as if she'd been passed around like some parcel at a party. It wasn't the case at all, but still... it sounded bad to her. It felt like everyone knew now. That wasn't the kind of person she was. And she had been made to feel that way.

The argument had transported her back to the single worst moment of her life: the moment Ron walked away from them in that tent. All of a sudden she was eighteen again, a scared teenager in a tent, with the man she loved insulting her and making insinuations about her, then leaving without giving her time to explain. Without a care.

It was happening again. She was being abandoned again.

If she were completely honest with herself, it hadn't been Ron's words that had irreparably harmed their chances at happiness together. It was the fact that he'd left her to die.

Severus did not do that. Severus would never have done that.

His words had cut deep. But that was no excuse for her to leave him, or leave them. No excuse to pack her things and disappear into thin air.

Severus protected his children (and yes, they were his children) as well as any parent would. He made it clear from the very beginning that they came before anyone else, including her, and that betrayal would not be tolerated. He had been hesitant to expose the children to both her and Harry for fear that, when things got hard, they would leave them, just as everyone else in their lives had.

Things had got hard.

She had left.

What was worse, worst of all, she had hit him. An abused child himself and she had slapped him across the face.

What kind of monster did that? What kind of monster followed that up by walking out on her family? Over something so stupid?

She had never been so ashamed of herself.

Severus would never, ever forgive her for that. And deservedly so.

Severus valued loyalty more than anything else. When he committed to someone, or something, he did so completely and eternally, and expected it in return. And while they hadn't made any formal commitments to each other, she had given him her commitment to care for the children. She walked away without warning or without giving him any information as to her whereabouts or when she would be back. She knew how he would interpret that—he would see it as abandonment of them and of him.

She had no intention of leaving them, regardless of the status of her relationship with him. But would he see it that way? Would he even believe her?

She was not a violent person and never had been, but she had raised her hand to him in anger, and that had made him leave. He trusted her and she hurt him just like his abusive father had. That was the greatest betrayal of all.

When she saw him, what on earth would she say to him?

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest. On the cliffs overlooking the sea, with the wind sweeping her hair every which way, making it as bushy as it had ever been, she whispered his name into the wind in apology.

"Severus." The word came out quietly, lost in the breeze and the sound of the sea. "Severus… forgive me."

Her voice carried softly across land and sea and space ten thousand miles away, where a man heard it and sat bolt upright in bed and defied the laws of both physics and magic to come to her. Mere minutes later, unbeknownst to her, he stood ten feet away, willing himself to take those last few steps to her side.

---------

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, two figures stayed up plotting late into the night in the Gryffindor common room. They spoke in whispers to avoid detection.

"What's a thestral?" Leopold asked Clara.

Clara pointed to an illustration of what looked like a black winged horse with a skeletal body and hollow eyes. "Thestrals. Professor Hagrid keeps them out in the Forbidden Forest. He usually shows them to fifth years, but they're out there, if you can find them."

"Doesn't he keep them in the same place?"

Clara shook her head. "He does, but… well… they're invisible to most people."

"They are?"

Clara nodded. "They pull the carriages for the older students, the ones that everyone swears pull themselves. We didn't see them because we came over on the boats. But I doubt we'd be able to see the thestrals anyway."

"Who can see them?"

"It says, 'Only those who have witnessed and been impacted by death may see the thestral.' So that might make it impossible for us to find them."

Leopold shook his head. "I'll be able to." He grasped Clara by the hand; her tiny fingers interlaced themselves with his. "If we go now we can get a head start before anyone knows we've gone. Come on."

--------

He told himself to stop being stupid. She had called for him. She wanted him here. And if she didn't, if he had interpreted the Deluminator incorrectly... well, at least he will have tried. He never really tried with Lily. He would not make the same mistake twice. And he was damn certain he hadn't misinterpreted this. He wouldn't second-guess his intuition. Not anymore. That part of him was gone now.

It wasn't just that the voice had disappeared; that had happened before, and it had always come back. He knew that would not happen this time; he could feel it missing from his head, and it felt glorious. No, it was not just the voice he was missing. It was the feelings associated with it: fear, self-loathing, self-doubt, self-hatred, the feelings that had driven him from light to dark, from Lily to the Death Eaters, from Hermione to an empty bed and an empty heart. That part of him-the part that sabotaged everything good he'd ever had-was now gone.

Severus crossed the distance between them, making sure his footsteps were audible. She turned around, and her red-rimmed eyes widened in shock. Per usual, her expression broadcasted the emotions she felt: shock, relief, fear, regret, happiness, insecurity, love. Always love. Her mouth fell open, only slightly, as she took him in.

He set himself down next to her, keeping about a foot between them, and wrapped his arms around his knees. Hermione could not tear her eyes away from him, and he would not look away from her either. His expression, per usual, betrayed nothing about him, which Hermione took as a hopeful sign. If he was angry with her, she would know. And if he no longer wanted her in his life, he would not have come to find her.

How, actually, had he found her?

Hermione's shaky voice broke the silence between them as his gaze lingered on her. She collected herself and, in the steadiest voice she could muster, said the only thing that came to mind.

"Hi."

Severus inclined his head. "Hello, Hermione."

There were so many questions she wanted to ask: How did he find her? How did he get here? Why was he here if he just wanted her out of his life? Would he ever forgive her?

And statements she wanted to make: She was sorry. She wanted to come home. She wanted to come home to him. She wanted to come home to them. She would never forgive herself for hitting him.

Too many questions. Too much to say. Nowhere to begin.

She half-wished he would just use Legilimency on her and save her the ordeal of having to form the words herself.

"I know that I can read your mind, Hermione, but I'd rather not," Severus said in a voice that was neither cross nor agitated.

So much for that.

"Are you here to terminate my position at Grimmauld Place?" she whispered.

"No," he said softly. "I'm here to bring you home."

Her throat constricted as a myriad of emotions crossed her mind all at once.

"I'm so, so sorry Severus." She buried her head on her raised knees and began to weep, her tired body shaking.

"My Hermione," Severus murmured, raising his hand to place it on her shoulder but changing his mind before he did. "Sweetheart, it is I who should be begging your forgiveness."

She shook her head without lifting it, heartened by his use of an endearment. "No," she said in a muffled voice. "I walked out on you and the children without a word, which is what you always told me you would not tolerate. And I know about your father and what he—I struck you! I slapped you on the face!" She took a shuddering breath and lifted her head to face him. When she spoke again, her voice was small. "How can you say you want to bring me home? How can you even stand to be near me?"

Severus considered Hermione's words. It was true, when this project began in the bowels of the Ministry-run orphanage just over a year earlier, he had not trusted her or Harry any further than he could throw them with his bare hands. Even after the relocation to Grimmauld Place, he had been irate when he saw her read to them because he feared that they would grow attached to Hermione, only to have her, too, leave them. They had been distressed when she left. They seemed calmed by his assurances that she was only going to be away for a short while, but they would not be themselves again until she came home. The lack of warning had been hard on them.

A year ago, Severus would have written her off as a loss and carried on with his life. He would have told the children to forget about her, to move on with their lives, to consider it a great life lesson: people leave. Nothing lasts.

Yet Severus was not the same man he was a year earlier, was he? He was no longer a loner doing a thankless job for a group of unmentionables. He was no longer working and drinking himself to death and living on one frayed nerve. He was no longer stretched so thin that he failed all of his obligations in his attempts to meet them all.

Severus was part of a community now. An unfortunately Gryffindor-heavy community, but a community nonetheless. Luna was still there; she was minding the children right now as they slept. Longbottom was keeping an eye on Leopold at Hogwarts, and Harry had thrown himself into this task with both hands. They weren't going anywhere.

Hermione had left. And yet it didn't feel as unforgivable a sin as it might have been back then. In fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind that he wouldn't want her to come back. He had been too consumed with his own guilt and his own fears for her safety to think that he might not want her to return.

If he were being completely honest with himself, he knew that she hadn't really left. She'd been driven away.

Really, it was simple. He did want her. He wanted her at Grimmauld Place, with him and the children and Luna and Harry and (God help him) Longbottom, where she belonged. Not for what she did for them in terms of lessons or attracting Ministry support for things, but for who she was: a companion, a partner, a lover, a friend. He wanted Hermione back home with him. There was no question in his mind about that. As for the children…

"It would be more traumatic for them if you never came back, than if you returned after an unexpected holiday," he said out loud.

She gave a sniff and nodded. "But still bad for them," she mused.

"We do not live in a bubble, Hermione," Severus said, to her as much as to himself. "They do not live in a bubble. I cannot shield them forever. A short-term upset will prepare them for the inevitable larger ones in life, will it not?"

She nodded again. "You're right. I just… I never wanted to be the lesson, you know?"

The question hung in the air as both turned their gaze to the water, watching surfers ride the waves like little black dots.

"You're not," he said softly. "I am the lesson." He turned to her, his smile sad. "I am so sorry, Hermione," Severus said, breaking the silence. "What I accused you of, what I asked of you, what I said… it was unconscionable. You deserve better than that, so much better than that."

She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand to stop her. "I mean it, Hermione. You had every right to say and do what you said and did. Including striking me across the face."

"Nobody deserves that," Hermione interrupted. Her voice was deathly serious. "No one. Especially you."

"I did deserve it, Hermione. I… it reminded me very much of what happened with Lily, and I responded as if I were a betrayed little boy again. The situations are not comparable. Lily was with Potter despite her knowing how he tormented me, and ran back into his arms not six months after our relationship ended for good. You and Harry, on the other hand, " he looked sheepish, "were none of my business. Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione turned to look at him, clearly surprised at his admission.

"I spoke with Harry and he showed me what happened... between you."

Hermione flushed and turned her head away, but this time Severus, without thinking, reached out a hand to still her, to turn her face back to him.

"It was wrong of me to go to him, Hermione, but I'm glad I did. I saw—I understand now. I understand the need for comfort in the midst of a terrible ordeal. I never… I'm glad you and Harry could be there for each other. Especially after the person you loved threw such ugly allegations in your face and walked out on you."

He swallowed. "I am not ignorant of the parallels between myself and Weasley. I know that you and he never worked past what he did to you. I very much hope that you and I can. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I will spend the rest of my life making you glad that you did."

"Severus…" Hermione reached up to her face to cover the hand that was still cupping her chin and laced her fingers through his. "Ron and I could never make it work because he abandoned me and Harry to die. The words I would have got over eventually, and have—we're still great friends, though things never did quite get back to the way they were. We might have been able to be happy together otherwise, but I could never get over the image of him walking out of that tent and Apparating away, knowing that I'd likely never see him again.

"You… your words hurt, Severus, I won't lie. I don't want my past thrown in my face like that ever again."

"Never," Severus said seriously, meeting her eyes and giving her a sincere look. "I am the last person in the world who can cast aspersions on anyone else's past, as you know better than probably anyone. You have never made me feel ashamed or guilty over any of the shameful things I have done, of who I am and who I used to be. I swear to you, right now," he said, taking her hand and placing it over his heart in an ancient gesture of fealty, "that I will never mention it again, or use it against you, or make you feel bad about it. As far as I am concerned, it's in the past, and what's in the past is of no consequence to either of us anymore. I love you, Hermione. I don't want to live without you."

She gave him a sad smile. "I love you too," she whispered. "I'm sorry, too, Severus. I overreacted by leaving. Like you, I incorrectly drew a connection between the past and the present, and it was wrong of me to do so. For a moment, I was back in that tent with the person I loved hurling accusations in my face then walking out on me, leaving me behind. But I was wrong. You didn't abandon me or hurl accusations. You were understandably upset about something I hid from you, and you justifiably walked out to cool your head after I struck you. It was wrong of me to then turn tail and leave."

He squeezed her hand. "Neither of us acted very admirably in this situation, did we?"

Hermione gave a watery chuckle and shook her head. "No. I suppose neither of us is terribly experienced at this."

"I'm a novice at this," Severus said.

"Me too."

"And I dislike being a novice in anything," he said.

"So do I."

"I should very much like to rectify it in this case."

For the first time, her expression was hopeful. "Me too."

"You packed up all your things…" he said softly. He knew from the light that she still loved him and wanted to be with him, but needed to hear it from her own mouth.

She looked away from him, ashamed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I was angry, and upset, and in a fury I picked up my wand, threw everything into my bag—" she indicated her small, beaded handbag that she had carried throughout the war—"and came out here without another thought." She chanced a look at him. "I realise now how that must have looked."

"So you don't want to move out?"

She shook her head. "I thought you might not want me anymore," she said softly. "At least, that was my thought process at the time. I didn't want to wait around for you to throw me out."

"Hermione," he whispered. "Remember what I said to you? I am yours for as long as you will have me. I am committed to you. I am a constant man. I would not throw you out."

"Your words weren't exactly encouraging," she said.

He swallowed, averting his gaze. "No, they weren't."

"Never again?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded. "Never again."

They finally looked at one another again, each confident in the truth of the other's words.

Severus allowed himself a smile, and for a moment considered sitting back and waiting for her to make the first move. Then he disavowed that idea. That was the old him. His life—his new life—began today.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly.

She rewarded him with a small laugh. "Of course, love."

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a gentle yet passionate kiss, putting into it everything he could not form into words. She responded with all the enthusiasm the light in his heart had promised.

"How did you find me?" Hermione asked breathlessly after many minutes of contrite kissing.

With a sheepish yet knowing look, Severus withdrew the small silver implement from his pocket. "I trust you know what this is?"

Dumbfounded, Hermione took the Deluminator into her hands. "Where did you… how did you…?" The question died on her lips.

"Your friendships are stronger than I think you even realised," Severus said in a deliberately Slytherin answer.

"Ron," Hermione whispered. "He found us with this."

"It is a very useful, if unorthodox, instrument."

"Very," Hermione said, still staring at the object.

"I hope to never have need of it again."

"But how did you get here?" Hermione asked, failing to hear his last statement while she was so lost in thought. "When Ron used it, it gave him a destination to Apparate to. But there's no way you could have done all the way out here."

"Never underestimate the power of instruments designed by Albus Dumbledore."

She looked at him in disbelief. "That's impossible. Apparition isn't possible for that distance."

"Incidentally, where exactly are we, Hermione?"

"You—you really did Apparate here without knowing where you were going, like Ron did?"

Severus nodded.

"We're on Bondi Beach," Hermione said. "In Sydney, Australia." She turned her body fully to him and pressed the Deluminator in his hands. "Severus, you Apparated all the way from London to Sydney without splinching yourself?"

He nodded as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"But, not even Muggle aeroplanes can travel that distance in one go!"

He shrugged. "I am no aeroplane, am I?"

"No, no you're not." She continued to stare at him, mouth agape. "It must have been… my God I can't even imagine what it would be like to Apparate like that."

"It was not the most pleasant experience of my life, but I have endured much harsher treatments for far less satisfying rewards."

"I suppose I underestimated the power of magic."

"Dumbledore would have called it the power of love," Severus said wryly, failing to completely mask the fact that he considered it a true statement.

Hermione laughed and placed a kiss on his nose. "Some might call it both."

"Indeed." He pulled Hermione into his arms and inhaled the scent of her hair. Still orange blossoms. Still her. "Come home?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, please."

He got to his feet and offered her a hand up, which she accepted.

"How did you get here?" Severus asked once they were on their feet.

"I made a Portkey," Hermione said.

Like any good Slytherin, he asked the next question only because he already knew the answer. "And you came here because…"

"I wanted to see my parents," she whispered after a pause.

"Did you?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't find them. I know they were here when they first arrived, and where they lived when they did, but I couldn't find their current address. They sold their dental practise and I could find no record of what they did after that. I've been looking but... well, I don't have much hope of finding them." She sighed. "Stupid plan, really. I know I can't undo the memory charms, I'm not entirely confident you can, despite what you say, and even if I could, I know what the reaction would be. I just… I wanted to see them. Once. So that I would know that they are safe."

Severus nodded. He had spent much of his life watching those he could not speak to from afar, making sure they were safe. He knew that it brought some comfort, however small.

"We could still search for them," Severus offered. "There are census records, property records, tax records…"

Hermione shook her head. "I've already attempted to do that, and they're nowhere to be found. I've spent the last three days combing all the records I could find, every neighbourhood I could envision them living in, and nothing. For all I know they've left Sydney, or even left Australia altogether. They could be anywhere." She gave him a weak smile. "They aren't my parents anymore; they're other people, strangers. And even though they were my parents… we weren't much of a family. I will always love them, and always care about them, and always regret that I lost them. But I have my family now."

At Severus's surprised look, she squeezed his hand. "You. You and the children are my family now. As are Harry and Ginny and Luna and Neville and Ron. That is… if you still want me."

"Always, Hermione," Severus said breathlessly as he pulled her into a searing kiss. "Always."

They had broken away from the kiss and were staring out at the sea when Severus spoke again.

His newfound confidence in himself and in her was liberating. This seemed like as good a time as any. He had wasted so much time being afraid. Why wait?

"Marry me."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"I want you to marry me," he said. He looked down at her with the most confident look she'd ever seen on his face.

He knew that he loved her. Why continue to deny himself the things he'd always wanted, the things he now knew he could have?

"I… you do?"

"I do," he said. "Hermione, I know I messed this up. I wasn't lying when I told you that if you give me the chance, I will spend the rest of my life making you glad that you did. I promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you as my partner. I want you as my wife. Please."

Caught completely off guard, Hermione searched for words. This was not how she expected to receive a marriage proposal, to be sure. She never expected to receive one at all, especially from Severus. Not even after he professed his love, not even after moving in with each other, not even after they began raising fifteen children together. She had never even entertained the possibility.

Then again, the man had just Apparated ten thousand miles without splinching himself to be by her side and bring her home. How could she doubt him or his intentions?

Unable to express herself in words, she merely nodded and pulled his head down to brush her lips against his. When they separated, Severus smiled at her and said, "Thank you."

Hermione rested her head on her fiancé's shoulder. She was engaged to marry him now. It was completely unromantic, devastatingly practical, very impromptu, and terribly understated.

It was Severus. It was perfect.

"We should get back," Severus said. "It's been less than an hour, and Luna knows that I left, but I think it would be best not to delay any longer than we have to."

Hermione nodded. "I guess we can't go back the same way you came?"

Severus chuckled. "I hope not. Once was more than enough."

"Should we see about getting an official Portkey back to London?" she asked. They didn't have the same freedom to make Portkeys in Australia that they did in Britain.

"We could," he said. "Unless you're feeling a bit… adventurous?"

She gave him a smile and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I am a Gryffindor."

He smiled back. "That you are. My Gryffindor." He maneuvered himself behind her and wrapped his arms her firmly around the waist. "Hold on to me," he whispered, "And trust me that I won't let you go, no matter what."

"Alright," she said uncertainly. Next thing she knew, Severus launched off the cliff. Her screams died down as he pulled up and flew them over the sea. The beach and the surfers disappeared as they rose to the sky. They soared higher and higher, dodging the skyscrapers of downtown Sydney and rising into the clouds.

"Sev—wha—I can'—" Hermione sputtered. "How did you learn to do this?"

"Not important," he replied. "What is important is that we can travel very quickly, and very safely, this way. If we get bored, we'll Apparate or get a Portkey somewhere along the way."

Hermione nodded and looked at the ground pass beneath them. She had always been afraid of flying, but now, in her love's arms, the wind whipping through her hair, she felt… alive. She knew he would not drop her, and if she fell, he would dive down and catch her. It was a wonderful feeling.

"How long can you fly like this?"

"As long as I need to."

"You don't get tired?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing more invigorating."

Hermione laughed and cautiously spread her arms, feeling like she was flying under her own power.

"Can you make it all the way back to London?"

He nodded. "I think I can."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know. I've never tried before." He smiled. "But I'm willing to find out, if you are."

"I'm in this with you, Severus," Hermione said, talking about more than just a flight home.

---------

Clara frantically pounded on the professor's door. Her own Head of House wasn't answering the door, and this was the only other Gryffindor professor she could think of calling on at this hour. She wasn't entirely confident that he would be here; she wasn't in his class, and since he wasn't a Head of House, he wasn't required to stay in the castle overnight while classes were in session, but she had to try.

She really, really wished she hadn't helped Leopold with his plan. She regretted showing him the books, regretted listening to him, regretted all of it. She should have just told him to wait for the Easter Holidays. They were only a month away; what could possibly be so important that he had to leave now, before dawn, to get to London? If it was an emergency, he could have told the Headmistress, or Head of House, or another teacher, someone in authority. They could have contacted his relatives.

"I don't have any," Leopold had said in a strangled voice. "No one. That's why I have to go, we have no one. My sister, she doesn't have anyone to take care of her anymore. I have to rescue her."

"Your sister?" Clara was puzzled. Leopold had never mentioned any siblings before.

His eyes were on his feet, defeated. He clearly hadn't meant to let it slip out.

"Leo, what happened to your sister?" Clara asked, taking his hand in hers. Leopold shook his head. "Leo, you can tell me anything, you know."

He shook his head. "No, not everything."

She took his other hand in hers. "Leo, I know you've been hiding something about yourself since I met you. I can tell. You can trust me. We're best friends… aren't we?"

"We are."

"Then tell me what's wrong. Don't just jump on a thestral and run away. What if something happens to you?"

"Because if I do tell you, Clara, I might as well jump on a thestral and run away. At least this way I can help someone and keep my secret."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," she swore to him. She meant it.

"I'm not afraid of you telling anyone, I'm afraid of what you'll think of me once you know what it is and I don't want to lose you as a friend. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"I won't stop being your friend, Leo, no matter what it is."

He shook his head again. "I'm so sorry, Clara. I can't." He pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered against her skin. "I can't."


Trying not to think of the feel of his lips on her cheek before he took flight on the invisible creature, seemingly floating off into the night under his own power until she could no longer see him silhouetted against the dark sky, she continued to rap on the door.

Running off into the unknown in the middle of the night? On the back of an invisible creature? Without telling anyone? On some misguided attempt to rescue someone? No wonder Slytherin always picked on Gryffindor for being full of reckless idiots.

"Professor?" she cried out as loud as she dared. No need for Mrs. Norris to discover her here; that would only add to her troubles. "Professor, please!"

A desheveled, sleepy, and unshaven Professor Longbottom answered the door. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"Professor!" Clara squealed out of both relief and fear, "You've got to come quick, I've done something terrible and now it's too late to stop it!" At her professor's alarmed expression, she calmed down and began to relate her tale.

When she finished, Professor Longbottom nodded. "Come on, then," he said in a shaky voice that he was trying to steady. "We've got to see the Headmistress."

--------

Severus brought them to land gently upon the white cliffs of Dover at first light of day. The flight had taken only a few short hours to complete, far faster than if they had gone by aeroplane, and not that much longer than it would have taken with an official Portkey. Neither of them noticed the passage of time, instead fixated on watching the world open up and spread itself out before them: jungles evolving into savannahs morphing into deserts changing into mountains leveling off into cities and towns.

The same thought played through Severus's mind, over and over, the entire way.

She's going to marry me. She's going to marry me.

He wanted to show her the world, experience the world's beauty with her after so many years of experiencing its ugliness. He wanted to feel invigorated and alive with her in his arms. He wanted to show her things that no one else could.

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug at his success on all counts.

Severus's dirty little secret was that broomless flying, much like the flight in the Muggle play Peter Pan (written by J.M. Barrie, a Muggle-born wizard), was powered by happy thoughts. Much like a Patronus. The Dark Lord had flown on the power of his ambitions and plans for the wizarding world. Such thoughts had given him something akin to elation. Severus, on the other hand, flew on the power of his feelings for Lily for many years. Now, he flew on the power of his feelings for Hermione. He had flown higher and faster than ever before.

Sometimes, "dark magic" really could be born from light.

Wobbling on unsteady feet that had not touched earth for three continents, they stood wrapped in each other's arms.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"For what?"

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Everything." She squeezed him tighter, trying to convey her feelings through touch rather than words. It seemed to work, for Severus squeezed back, planted a kiss on her forehead, and, when their eyes met, nodded in understanding.

He shook his head. "Thank you, Hermione. Always you. I promise, I swear to you, that I will give you the benefit of the doubt from now on. You should have had it from the beginning."

She squeezed him in response.

"In my vault at Gringotts," he murmured, "I have my mother's ring. It is not much, but it would mean a great deal to me if you would wear it."

She nodded, understanding just how important it really was to him.

"Shall we?" he asked. She nodded, and he Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place. Back home with the others, where they both belonged.

They Apparated onto the top step. It was early enough that his disappearance should have gone unnoticed, and that Hermione's reappearance would be welcomed.

Severus felt good, really good, for the first time in a long time. Perhaps the first time ever. With the voice and all it represented gone from his mind in a burst of blue light, he could really focus on the future. He would find a way to get the girls out of that place. Hermione was right; there was a way, they just hadn't found it yet. He would actively campaign for counseling and trauma services at Hogwarts, like he'd been saying he would from the beginning. He could positively feel the possibilities. It wasn't exactly optimism; he would never admit to that. It was something else, something simpler and more universal. It was hope.

But when they opened the door and saw Neville, Luna, Harry, and Minerva McGonagall standing in the ground floor sitting room, they immediately knew something was wrong.

--------

I hope Hermione's parents weren't too much of a letdown. This (lack of) resolution was planned from the beginning. If you hide people, erase their memories, give them new memories and identities, leave them to their own devices in a foreign country, and then wait seven years, you'd probably lose track of them. Indecision is the same as a decision, and has consequences all the same. It's a regret she'll now have to live with. But as she said, Severus and the kids are her family now. She can begin to let go.

Yes, Severus flew from Sydney to Dover in a couple of hours. It's
magic, okay?

Chapter 23 of Deathly Hallows ("Malfoy Manor") implies that Apparition has a limited range: "Harry knew it; his scar was bursting with the pain of it, and he could feel Voldemort flying through the sky from far away, over a dark and stormy sea, and soon he would be close enough to Apparate to them, and Harry could see no way out."

Earlier this year I had the privilege of visiting Sydney and spent a day on Bondi Beach. If you dropped out of the sky like Severus, without knowing where you were and if you'd never been there before, it wouldn't be the obvious guess; I think it could easily pass for parts of the Mediterranean or California. Full of surfers, surrounded by cliffs, and yes, the seagulls really do sound different. Aussie readers: I absolutely loved your country. Hope to go back again someday.

Sydney is 10-11 hours ahead of GMT, depending on the time of year. So middle of the night in the UK would be around midday of the following day in Sydney.

The chapter title is taken from the following passage in Alexander Pope's poem "Eloisa to Abelard," which is about separation and longing to forget the pain of a lost love:

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
Rise Alps between us! And whole oceans roll!
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.

Coming up: Will Leo succeed? Will he get help? And what of the girls?


Just to Be by Amarti [Reviews - 7]

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