𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II SS/HG ✔️

The Locket

It was infinitely strange that Severus felt the pressure each night, when he ground his teeth—but when he woke in the morning, his jaw didn't hurt. Their linkage baffled him at times. But his constant headaches had returned. He was a paranoid man by necessity but he was not fanciful. So he had to constantly remind himself that Hermione was not the cause of his headaches, even if another part of him nagged that his headaches pounded against his skull whenever he looked at her too long.

Maybe it was the guilt raging in any way it could to remind him he did all this for Lily. That he loved Lily. That she was the only part of him that was worth anything.

He really wished Hermione had not dug up that photo of him and Lily. He had just been on the cusp of letting her go. Lily was dead and never coming back to forgive him.

Even in an afterlife she would spit at him for ripping apart her young family. Not that he and Lily would ever go to the same place for a final rest.

Then again, a viable Hell would be sitting in a Heaven, watching James and Lily and Sirius laughing at him, he supposed.

Severus laid in bed for a solid ten minutes trying to Occlude these—maudlin thoughts. They served no purpose but to distract him.

…

Breakfast immediately put him right back in a snit. Filius sat to one side and Minerva on the other. Neither spoke to him.

Brazen faces scowled up at him from the student tables.

The castle had turned into a mausoleum now that the children couldn't even visit Hogsmeade as respite. At least the gloom matched Severus's mood.

But this reflected poorly on him. His name would be written in the books as a footnote to whoever replaced him; youngest headmaster in some time, ruined the school and drove off students; ushered in a reign of terror; could not even wrangle a new Potions Master despite it being his favoured subject.

Severus's agitation grew as he sat behind the desk in his new, ostentatious office. As he sat in the shadow of Albus's deathbed.

Severus stood up to pace, instead.

.

Hermione had a hard time concentrating on the Dreamless Sleep Potion bubbling before her. She was here, well-fed by Dobby three times a day, comfortably brewing potions whenever she wanted—and Harry and Ron were fending for themselves without her at Grimmauld Place. Harry was surrounded by memories of Sirius everywhere without her there to comfort him. Ron was worried sick for his family, Ginny in particular.

"Focus," she muttered.

But it didn't matter. By the end of the day, she had only managed one batch. Then Severus found her.

And she instantly remembered all the horrible things he had ever said to her. And that word. It didn't make any sense.

Severus stood with his arms crossed to scoff into her cauldron. Before he could offer a snide appraisal, she asked:

"If you were friends why did you call her that?"

The trademarked hideous sneer appeared on his face.

"If Harry ever said that to me, we would not be friends anymore. I can't blame her."

"Did I say I blamed her?" he snapped.

She set the last knife on the towel. "Do you think the shite things you say to Harry are cancelled out by the times you've saved his life? Because otherwise, I figured she'd forgive you."

"Shut up," he spat. "Can you mind your own God damn business for once in your life?"

She whipped around, both of her fists clenched as tight as her teeth. "It is my bloody business to know if my Death Eater husband is or isn't a massive piece of shite! So if I want to bloody know why you run around cleaning up our messes, I will bloody find out!"