Accidents of Circumstance

Chapter 21: Old Lessons, New Times

Snape followed Regina upstairs, leaving the children to themselves. Oh, he knew they weren't quite children anymore, but couldn't help but think of them that way. They were too young to be involved in the depth that they were, too young to wield the magic with proper skill to save them all. They weren't quite of age, yet too much responsibility was being given to these four. Five, Snape reminded himself. The Weasley girl is a Seventh of Seventh. It meant she would have her own role to play soon enough.

Snape was standing outside of Regina's door. He doubted he would be welcome there, but he had to try. He did still love her, though the old love was also bound up with old guilt if he was going to be completely honest with himself. He could be brutal; he had often wondered late at night if he was trying to torture himself with the past and what could have been. But he did admire what Regina had become, and did want to learn all about her. She had changed, but there was enough that was the same.

This was foolish. And if there was one thing no Snape had ever been, it was foolish. He wouldn't just stand there outside the door, afraid of opening it like some besotted schoolboy. Those days were long over, and he had no time for second guessing himself. He was alive because of his ability to judge and make quick decisions. He very rarely made mistakes.

But when I do, sweet Merlin, they're spectacular.

Snape had learned long ago that he was no romantic hero. He was wiry, not muscular, plain and patrician rather than handsome and blunt to a fault. He had never had time for pleasantries as a child, as his father was of the sterner stuff. That was his father's term as well. I'm of sterner stuff than those silly people beyond the manor doors, Severus. This is what you'll have to be as well. You have to preserve the Snape name.

Sterner stuff had also been unfeeling and downright brutal.

Snape remembered how once he had almost admitted how he had grown up to Regina. It had been a moment of weakness, he wanted to tell himself. A single moment, and no more. He had been too affected by seeing the affection inherent in her parents, the love they had shown her and the tolerance they were extending to him for the mere feat of making their only daughter so happy. If only they had really known...

He had never seen that in his own home. He had never been so happy, had never seen such love extended to him that way. If he had a heart to break, it would have.

Gritting his teeth against the memory, Snape decided to forego the knock. His instincts said he would have to rush in on this, not give her an excuse to deny him entry. She would, too, he knew it. If he was proper and knocked, she would tell him to go away, and he would feel duty bound to obey her. If he opened the door, she would have to deal with him. It was one of those Snapish rules his father had drilled into him. He had heard a simpler version of it in America: It's easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.

She had asked to be alone to rest and plan the lesson order. Forgive me, Gina.

It took a moment for Snape's eyes to adjust to the half light in the room. It was late afternoon outside the house, but the drapes were half drawn and bathed the room in shadows and layers of dark. Ah, it was his kind of territory. He was used to this, having been in the darkness for far too long. It was an old friend, hiding the worst of his looks and thoughts. Snape closed the door behind him and strode forward, taking in the sight of Regina sprawled across the bed, crying silently. She turned at the sound of the door closing, and her eyes widened at the sight of him standing there. Did she remember when he had come to her room all those years ago, dressed in nothing but a wizard's robe? It had been dark like this then, and she had been upset about something. He had made her forget then, but was guessing he was at the root of her current pain. He was too close to her, was sparking too many memories.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Her voice rasped across the space between them. She couldn't keep the sound of tears from her voice, the weariness and pain that had been shed with them.

"I was noble once," Snape began, wondering where the hell he was going with this. He never knew anything when he was close to her. She kept him off balance, she threw off his reserve of calm and surety.

But he loved it, the wild and fluttering feeling he got near her. It wasn't a desperate kind of feeling, it wasn't merely to make amends. It was a deeper and more mature feeling. And he wanted to make her happy, ultimately. He wanted her brilliant smiles to appear again, no more tears and misery. They had been happy together once.

Snape was advancing on her. "I let you go because I thought it was the right thing to do, the noble thing to do. I let you go because I didn't want to be selfish. I lied to make you leave, to keep you safe. I tried being noble once, and it caused nothing but pain."

"Severus..." Her voice wavered, unsure. She was trying to wipe away the tears, but he had already seen them.

Snape leaned in suddenly and kissed her. It was the kiss of frustration and love and desire and dreams left too long dormant. It was a Snape kind of kiss, as she used to say, lips and teeth and tongues in a desperate dance, as if she would disappear.

Snape undid the front of her jeans, proud of the fact that he still remembered how. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband and slipped a finger inside of her. Her eyes were wide and shining in the strange twilight of the room. "I'm done being noble. This time I'm going to be selfish, Gina."

He kissed her and stroked her at the same time. He had dreamed of this not even a week ago. Sometimes he had dreamed of her throughout the years. She had been the first to think he was handsome, the first and only one to want to keep him. Other Death Eaters had palmed off sisters and cousins, but all had lied about his looks. He had known it, and some deep vestige of pride had forced him to rebuff them all.

Snape knew it now. He had been waiting for Regina. Sometimes there really was only one right person in the world for you.

Snape brought Regina to climax and then shed her clothes when she lay still. Her mouth opened and shut, but he didn't allow her to speak. He would lose his nerve otherwise, and he needed to show her. He was never good at speaking; words always twisted away from him and his intent when he spoke. He was never eloquent, but he was good at action. Words were easy to twist and shape, but action had no words to misrepresent it. Regina would never believe him if he told her he loved her. But she would believe it if he showed her. She had to.

Regina was responding, taking off his clothes as they kissed. She gasped and writhed beneath him when he suckled her breast and palmed the other. Snape had forgotten what she sounded like, had forgotten how loud she could be. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize the sound of her. He shouldn't have forgotten. He should have remembered.

When Snape allowed Regina to guide him into her, he realized how much he had really forgotten. He had forgotten what she felt like, what she looked like at that one exquisite moment, what he had always felt when deep inside of her.

He felt like he was home. This was where he belonged, with her, inside of her, making her come, making her feel loved. He shouldn't have been skulking about in shadows and causing death and destruction. He shouldn't have been playing the spy and nearly getting killed at the whims of a deformed madman. He shouldn't have been careful in choosing his words and actions to keep the trust of a megalomaniac. He should've stayed away from the duplicity and stayed with Regina. He should have stayed with her in America. Life would have been simple, would have been safe. He would have been loved.

When Snape was sated, Regina didn't leave it at that. Eyes dark and unreadable, she aroused him again, lips and tongue and hands everywhere, as if memorizing him as well. Her touch was desperate, making up for lost time.

There might be hope for us after all, Snape thought, watching her move above him. He kept his hands on her hips, steadying her, watching her. He had missed her more than he had allowed himself to ever feel.

There has to be hope for us, Snape thought as he came again. There has to be hope.

Snape gathered Regina's spent body in his arms and felt her ragged heartbeat against his chest. It felt something like hope.

***

Regina woke first, disoriented. It had been over twelve years since she had woken up naked in bed with a man. It had been over sixteen years since she had woken up naked with this particular man in her bed. Was she twenty again?

Regina squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered. She felt like crying again suddenly. It had opened all sorts of wounds she had thought were healed over. Now she knew better, that they had merely scabbed over, waiting for a moment like this. She had been weak, allowing him to enter her bedroom, enter her body, enter her heart all over again. She had to stop it before he would break her to pieces again. He wouldn't know he was doing it, just as he hadn't known sixteen years ago. He said he would be selfish this time, and he would. He had always kept his word to the best of his ability. If he said he would be selfish, he would be. It was always easier to look after your own best interest anyway.

It took five minutes to slowly creep from his embrace; he was being possessive even in sleep. Regina turned on the shower, making the water hot and steaming. She stepped inside, feeling the water wash over her. She ached. Her back, her neck and her legs all felt sore. He had touched her, and suddenly her resolve fell apart. She hadn't had sex in twelve years, and she was feeling it now. There was an ache in her hips, where her legs joined her torso, her lower back. She wasn't used to feeling this way, to bending like that anymore. Her skin was sensitized, too, and she could almost feel his fingers and lips over her body.

She was sliding to the bottom of the tub. She couldn't hold herself upright leaning against cold tile, and her knees were going to buckle anyway. She had been weak, she had been stupid, she had let him touch her. She shouldn't have let him touch her. She knew it would have happened eventually, but she hadn't been ready to say no. She should've said no, she should've kicked him out. She should have railed and screamed, should have kicked him out and told him never to come back.

But there was that one niggling thought- i didn't love him enough- and she squelched it down viciously. She would ignore that. It wasn't her fault. There was nothing she could have done sixteen years ago. He had been hellbent on destroying her, and she had let him. God help her, but she had let him.

Regina felt the tears burning her eyes. She bowed her head, letting the hot water fall over her head and back. She could still feel his fingers inside of her, his lips over hers, his hand at her breast. Her body tightened in memory.

Her own body was being a traitor. It wanted him inside of her again, it wanted him stroking her back and holding her. It wanted him to nip her earlobes and pull her closer. It wanted his hands everywhere, laying claim to her body as his. Her body simply wanted him, damn the consequences, damn the past.

She dimly heard her own sobs over the sound of the water. It was too hot and too steamy, once again reminding her of the past, of a shower three thousand miles away and sixteen years ago. He had been with her, his hands in the water, his lips at her neck, his whispers in her ear and his laughter rumbling against her body. Why hadn't she forgotten?

He would destroy her again. He wouldn't mean to, maybe, but he would. He would take her and make love to her and he would cast her aside again when he was done. He would say he loved her, he would say he should never have hurt her. He would mean it at the moment and forget it once they were in the real world again. He would leave her when this was over, because he wouldn't need her then. She was convenient, that was all. She was convenient and available and obviously easy.

She had to hurt him first, drive him away before he could break her to pieces again.

***

The teenagers were subdued in the meantime. "Do you think this is going to be permanent?" Ron asked suddenly, pointing upstairs. They had heard Regina crying out, and it was certainly not in pain.

"I hope so," Draco said suddenly, cutting off Hermione. He stood and walked over to the window next to the front door. There was no real view, but it was something to do. He couldn't stand those faces just then. They didn't know what they were talking about. Their lives were easy, their paths set. They knew what they were all about, they knew what they were going to do and they knew they were right. It was the same old thing in a new place.

"She's going to be hurt," Harry found himself saying, then wished suddenly he hadn't when he saw Draco whirl around in anger.

"What? You think it's the big, bad Slytherin attacking a helpless Gryffindor girl?"

Hermione realized it was too close to Draco. He had to be thinking of Ginny.

"It doesn't sound like she's getting attacked, now does it?" she asked tartly, drawing Draco's attention to her. Nobody said a word. "It's none of our business anyway. We shouldn't be talking about her like this."

Draco spun around and stared out of the window. Somewhere he couldn't touch her, Ginny was learning to control her visions. Maybe she was learning mermaid magic, too. He turned around and faced the Golden Trio. They were never wrong at Hogwarts, always self assured, always right. They got away with everything.

Draco left the room, stalking toward the den. Hermione was calling out after him, telling him he wasn't allowed in there yet, but he ignored her. This wasn't Hogwarts. A simple locking spell he had learned at four kept her out; it was impervious to Alohomora.

He put on the portkey ring and sat in the chair at George Vial's desk. He looked out of that window. He looked at the books on the walls, the pictures in their frames. Dust never settled here; it needed time to do so. He touched the picture of Regina's parents on the wall. They had several poses in the frame, surrounding the central picture of their wedding day. The other pictures were mostly from daily life, some from years after the wedding. One in the corner held a living room full of children and adults of varying ages and races. On a closer look, he could see Regina grinning madly at the camera, holding a sign that said "Vial children, 1980."

Before everything fell apart for her.

Draco suddenly wanted to see Regina's parents. It wasn't enough to see Muggle shots of them at dinner, playing tennis, dancing or with some of their foster children. He wanted to see them when they were younger, when they were his parents' ages. Ginny had grown up in a house like this, and he knew nothing about how to live in it. How do you look when you grow up in a house full of love, where you know snide comments are for teasing and not a guilt-inspiring reprimand? How do you look when you know a broken bone is your own fault for falling out of a tree you climbed and not your father's strength when angry?

Draco pulled out a photo album at random. He opened the book at random and gasped. A sheet of paper was lying there with his name on it. Hands shaking, Draco opened it.

Draco,

This is Eugenia, Gina's mother. Genny told me to place this note right here, addressing it to someone I'll never meet. But she knows best in these things, I suppose. Not everyone can see the future. But you know someone who does, don't you? Genny told me this, that you'll be in a place similar to my daughter's and Severus', and you'll have your own Seer. It's strange, addressing someone I'll never meet. Sorry, I shouldn't keep writing that, but I can't help it. What will you be like? What will you look like? I don't know, and Genny never told me, just that I need to write you a letter. You need to know, she said. Never mind what you need to know. I never get told these things. It's all a mystical Seer thing.

So perhaps I should tell you about that. What to expect, I mean. It's a strange thing. I didn't know Genny well, but I did at the same time. You probably know exactly what I mean. You feel as though you know everything there is to know about them, and they know everything about you, but you really haven't known each other all that long. It's a little paradox you feel whenever you find someone who's going to be your best friend. They know everything about you, good and bad, and love you anyway.

I know that something is going to happen, something terrible. Genny doesn't tell me everything, since it's not a mortal's place to know the future before it happens. The temptation is too great to change things. You never learn the old lessons, after all, you're too busy trying to change things. Genny tells me you'll know my daughter, that you'll be her student. I'm glad that her school works out, but I don't understand why one of her students would be coming into our home. Maybe you need a place to stay? Maybe you're in need of foster parents? I just don't know. Genny didn't tell me. But I do know something terrible will happen, tied to my daughter, something Genny wants to allow to happen. It's hard being friends with her when I know this. I know she has her reasons, that she doesn't change the future for anyone. I know Genny feels this responsibility keenly, and takes it seriously. She's the Queen, for God's sake. You can't be a queen and not feel responsibility.

I guess I just hope that you know my daughter, and the best in her. She can be fragile, and she tries to keep her control. She learned the hard way what will happen when she loses control of her powers. My family is an old one, a powerful one. Our ancestors were gifted with extraordinary powers, but it is a curse at the same time. More often than not, we of the Reven have died violent and tragic deaths long before our time should be up. More often than not, we have been pawns. I don't pretend to understand what the ultimate goal is. I do know my daughter is the last of the Reven. Genny calls her the Ravana, it's the same term in her language. The Ravana will be important, and she will feel pain. That's all I ever know of what's going to happen.

I think you'll have to prepare yourself for times like that. You'll be given half truths and half clues. You'll try to puzzle them out. Try to stop it. But at the very end, you do exactly what they see you doing, and you haven't changed a damn thing. You only fulfilled some horrible destiny, as if your fate had already been written.

She called it a web. One reality impacts on another, on another, on another and so on. Imagine yourself on a weirdly forked path, so that every decision leads you down a different road. The further you go down one path, the more you can't go back and change to a different choice. It's no Choose Your Own Adventure book. You can't just flip back the pages and restart if you've hit a dead end. The further along the path you are, if you ever turn around, you never see the other paths that could have been. It will look like a single road, no forks. It looks like a straight path behind you, as if no other choice had ever been available, as if this is your only fate. Just remember it isn't so, that everything is a choice.

I don't know if this helps you. I'm rambling, after all. I don't know you and I don't know what'll help you. All I know is the feeling that this is important that I write to you, that I tell you what to expect of a Seer. They see, they know, they don't tell. Sometimes they don't tell, rather. They tell when they see fit. They tell when it doesn't make a difference. They tell if it's the only way to make their choices come to life, when you become a pawn in their little games.

I'm getting maudlin, forgive me. You don't want the ramblings of a dead woman. I wonder what year it is when you read this. I wonder what tragedy it takes to get my daughter to play the role of Ravana. We get such bad press, and we don't always do well. If we do, it's spectacular. But if we fail, it's spectacular, too.

I'm rereading this, and I don't know if I should even keep writing this. But Genny said so, and she knows best in this case.

You're going to be in the same place as Severus and my daughter, she said. You will find yourself in love with someone you believe just out of your reach. You will never feel worthy, and you will feel hunted. You will think yourself something like Romeo and Juliet. You will think that you need to fight yourself in order to love her, as though any darkness will scare her away.

I didn't realize how much Severus was going to hurt my daughter, and I'm sorry I missed the signs. She never grew up, in some ways. My fault, too, I suppose. George, her father, and I never saw it until recently. We thought we did right by her. And we did the best we could, we protected her and watched her grow. We thought it was enough. It should have been enough. But she was so desperate to be loved the way George and I love each other, and she wanted it so fast, she didn't stop to think. I fought my family to marry George, we weathered a lot of flak to be where we were. We didn't regret a thing, and it was worth it. But you don't get to a place where we were without earning it. You don't become comfortable with yourself and someone else unless you've been tested and you know you did the best you could and you were good enough. You don't learn to love someone else until you've already learned to love yourself.

Gina crumbled under the challenge, failing herself. She thinks it's permanent, poor thing, and nothing we say will change her mind. She's young, and the melodrama feels like the end of the world. But times will change. My parents accepted George, though it took a long time to. They accept he's Muggle, he loves me, and we're happy. They still aren't completely happy with the fact that he's not magic, that they have a single grandchild to carry on our magical line. But you know what, Draco? It doesn't matter. None of it matters. It's MY life. And I've tried to instill this in my daughter. You fight for what you believe in, you live for what you love, you die for yourself and those you love. I know I will die for those I love, I know I will die long before I could've ever met you. But knowing this feels easier now that I'm writing this letter. You know Gina at the time you read this letter, you know what happened. You know everything, Genny said, and you will understand what is cryptic to everyone else.

There is a place for pride and a place for love and a place where neither belong. It is one of those places that I'm in right now. George and I know we will die together to defend our daughter. We know this, we accept it. Gina is our baby girl, and someone we want to protect. I also know that whoever your Seer is, whatever troubles you face, you must feel the same way, else Genny would never have asked me to write to you, but would have done it herself. There's something you need to learn from me, something to make you stronger in your own time.

So if anything, if you can even read this cramped writing, I want you to learn this: you cannot regret. You only get one chance on this planet. One. You have to live and learn and love where you can, and you have to make it worth it. Only you can decide what's worth it, but it is your life and only you can decide how to live it. Only you can decide once you've died if it was worth it. You might as well be proud of what you've become. You can't guarantee anyone else will, you know.

I regret nothing I've ever done, nothing I ever will do. I chose my fate as surely as it ever chose me. You have to feel the same way.

All my best,

Eugenia Reven-Vial.

September 22, 1983.

A year before her death, and Eugenia knew it was coming. She knew, accepted and didn't care. She had never told Regina either.

Genny had to be Genevieve. Regina had mentioned that her mother and Selphie's mother had become friends. She had never mentioned the frustration, but maybe Regina had never known of it. There were many things Regina had never known.

Draco folded the letter and placed it into his pocket. Yes, he was in the same place that Snape and Regina were in. He knew exactly what Eugenia could only hint at.

And Eugenia was also right that he had to be proud of himself. His parents certainly would never be, and he would have to come to grips with that. He would have to find his own place, not just as a Malfoy, but as Draco Malfoy. It would be a harsh lesson, but one he hoped he could learn. Ginny would help him, he was sure. Ginny loved him for who he was as well as who he could be. He would have to fight to keep her, to prove he was worthy enough.

Draco laughed softly to himself. Some Malfoy manners died hard. People aren't possessions, he reminded himself.

Draco left the den. Let the Gryffindors judge him. Let them, they didn't know any better. They didn't have to fight to prove themselves, they were merely accepted. They didn't have to fight to be loved properly. They just were, as if that was good enough. They didn't feel as though they had to grow and change, as if they had to accept themselves first.

Draco knew better know.

***

Snape followed the music. He hadn't interrupted her first lesson, how to pronounce the Gera language. He had missed the end of it, and had only looked up from the psychology text left in the office on Eugenia's desk when he realized it was too silent. Then the music had begun next door. It was something from the 80's; he remembered Regina listening to it once upon a time. He entered the den and saw Regina staring at the pictures on the wall, as though she could divine something from them. But they were just Muggle pictures, nothing that could wave or smile or speak. "Regina? How did it go?"

She didn't turn around. It was as if she hadn't heard him. His stomach clenched, and he felt a frisson of fear shoot through him. Had he miscalculated?

She recoiled from his touch, skittering away from him. She was standing in the center of the den now, eyes wild. Dear Merlin, she's afraid of me, Snape thought, amazed, arm still outstretched. He lowered it slowly, so as not to spook her. "Regina?"

"What is it? Another round?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What? Disappointed that I'm not falling over myself to have you touch me again?" Her voice was bitter, so bitter.

"Regina..."

"Don't!" she spat once he stepped closer. "Don't come near me. That was a mistake, Severus." His name was a hiss from her lips. "Did you think I'd be so desperate for you? Did you think I'd forget everything? Did you think you could just use me and fuck me because I'm convenient and just here? Did you?"

Snape was shocked to silence. She didn't really think that... did she?

She was taking his silence as assent. "Goddamn your arrogance, you bastard. I mourned you. I felt like I was dying, you motherfucker. I ripped my heart out for you and you did nothing but throw it away and I will not let you do it to me again. I will not let you destroy me. I barely survived you the last time!"

This wasn't how it was supposed to go...

"Oh shut the fuck up!" Snape hadn't realized he had spoken aloud. He had never seen such loathing in her face before.

"No, I've mourned you. I've mourned everything I dreamed of with you. I bled for you, you motherfucking bastard. I bled and I mourned. What? You don't think I've mourned enough yet?" Snape was sputtering as she drew out her switchblade. "There's a Native tradition. You cut off your hair, your strength, when someone you love dies. Is this what you want from me?" Her hair was in her left hand, bunched at the nape of her neck. "Do you want to see me mourn for you? You want me to bleed for you again? You want to see me cry for you again? Is that it?" The blade sliced across her hair easily, leaving her left hand full of her long black hair. "Is this what you want from me?!"

"Regina," Snape said, hearing his voice as a weak and feeble echo of his usual tones. "I love you."

"Oh fuck you." Regina threw her hair at his feet. "You lied. You did nothing but lie to me, you fucked me, you used me, you threw me away. I willing to do everything for you, everything, and you fucking threw me away."

"I wanted to save you," Snape whispered. The excuse sounded lame to his own ears. How must it sound to her? "I thought I had to save you from me."

"Motherfucker," Regina hissed. "Liar!" Her hands were curled into fists. "I could kill you. No one would care; you'd never had anyone else care about you. Nobody loves you. I could kill you, bury you in my backyard and no one would ever find you. Nobody cares. I'll say you were caught in the blast. I'll say you were stupid and didn't move out of the blast zone in time and you were blown to atoms. Nobody would challenge me. I'll fucking kill you and bury you in the rose garden and you'll never leave!"

Snape made a choking sound that could have been her name. The ragged ends of her hair swirled as she turned from him. Her eyes caught her hair on the floor. Her own breath hitched, and he took in a deep breath.

"I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to protect you," Snape whispered.

Her shoulders were shaking. "My hair..."

He had once said it was beautiful. He had once spent hours playing with it, sprawled across the bed with her, stroking her back through it. He had once said that he loved the way it smelled, that it haunted his dreams.

They were both remembering that now.

Snape found himself bending down and picking up the disembodied ponytail, picking up the lost strands one by one. She was watching him painstakingly line up the ends, then offer it up to her, still on his knees. "I only loved you too much," he said quietly.

Regina's hands shook loose from their fists, rage spent. She took back the hair with a shaking hand. "I'll have to braid it. It took me too long to grow..." Her other hand touched her bare neck and she shuddered. She hadn't had it short since she was a teenager. She had been young and stupid and full of life then.

"I'll trim the ends for you," Snape said quietly. "Sit, I'll do it."

Regina let herself be directed to one of the ottomans, let herself be pushed down into a seated position. She stared at the remains of her hair, painstakingly rearranged into one neat row of sheared ends. She stared at the rubber band he had found in the office next door, at the scissors in his hands. It didn't quite seem real, Snape the magical snob doing things the Muggle way, taking his time to make things right. This wasn't the same Snape she had pictured in her head, the one with the sneer on his face when he had said he could never love her. Where was the arrogance? Where was the surety?

When she didn't move, Snape fastened the loose ends into a ponytail. He laid the disembodied ponytail into her lap, and began to painstakingly snip millimeters at a time to even out the loose ends of her hair.

"You can slit my throat," Regina choked suddenly. "You should do it. Do it before I try to kill you for what you've done to me." He kissed her neck in response and she shuddered. It was a shiver that slithered down her spine, something he felt go through all of her. He didn't pretend to understand what happened between them, how things had gone so wrong. He didn't know how to fix things anymore.

When he was done, he put the scissors down on the floor and kissed her bare neck. "I do love you, Regina, even if you don't believe me. Even if you never believe me. I love you. I always will, and I'll never be sorry for it."

Snape picked up the scissors and left the room when she didn't reply. He saw Draco in the hallway, eyes wide, and gave him a curt nod. Snape had to think, he had to get away. Her words had cut him just as her own knife had cut her hair. Maybe he would never be cleansed of all he had done, of all the pain he had caused. Maybe what he had done today, to prove to her that he had changed, would never be enough. Maybe there was no reason to hope.

But she hadn't killed him. Yet.

The rose garden outside was still perpetually in full bloom.

***

***