What Should Have Been

{6}

Hermione loosely tied and untied Harry the cat's collar. The buckle on it clicking in its metallic way as she just petted the bare cat now. His black fur was soft under her fingers, dull and repetitive strokes that the cat seemed to love regardless of how monotonous it was. There were tears running down her face, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. Why would she? There was no need when more would come after those that fell, besides, she never really liked the now damp blouse her mother had gotten her anyways.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in her lap until his furry self again rested and purred atop her crossed legs. They were resting on the table set lowly in the middle of her sitting room. It was a dark wood, sort of reddish look to it if you were glancing quickly. Her furniture matched it, the chair she was lounging in had a soft interior however that was a red and brown paisley patter. The studs were silver, and her biased towards silver was evident even in the scarce amount of jewelry she wore on occasions she couldn't even remember.

Hermione hated not knowing. Every fiber of her being was fighting against the fact that her brain was lapsing in crucial fragments of her life that were just gone right then. It was like they hadn't even exited as well, for sleeping did nothing but create new façades. Hermione hated how she slept knowing that she'd quite probably broken a man's heart. Severus Snape had left so abruptly that Hermione wasn't even sure he'd been there, holding her face so tenderly as though he'd done it for years... the only thing was, Severus had. Hermione had had no experience in their intimacy, she knew only what Harry, Draco, and Ginny, had informed her of. Even her parents had contributed to the few parcels of memory she clutched onto.

Harry stretched under Hermione's hand as she gently stroked the soft, black fur of her cat. The cat Severus had given her in his proposal.

She wondered if she'd cried... or if she had gracefully said yes and allowed him to kiss her. Knowing herself fairly well, Hermione figured it was the latter option. While her strength preceded not many other's, she knew Severus Snape to be a strong man. So, with hope in her heart, she prayed that he was getting on alright by himself.

He'd survived an attack from a snake, by Merlin, surely this was bearable compared to that insurmountable pain?

And although Hermione wasn't quite sure in that moment, it didn't matter. Her eyes were still watering from all the guilt that plagued her.

What a torture that kiss must have been! She had pressed her lips against his and felt nothing, but quite obviously there was something strong enough to bring back his love for her! The thing was, why hadn't it worked for her as well?

Hermione sighed, not fortified enough to attempt to take down such a wall of thinking. Of course, every piece of her wanted to know just exactly why Severus had been allowed the grace of his returning memories, yet there was a nag inside her not to give into jealousy. What would jealousy get her in attempting to find the lost thoughts in her head. Obviously there was a muggle way to solving the magical problem, especially since Severus simply awoke with his mind intact. Again, jealousy crept into Hermione's heart, the long and torturous feel of something so dissatisfying. Her parents were understanding, but she wasn't sure how understanding the rest of the world would be.

Hermione knew that evading work that day was the smart choice in terms of cost. She was able to sit there and wallow in whatever pity she felt fit to indulge in. Mr and Mrs Granger had been extremely kind, and she couldn't have been more thankful for her parents when they'd embraced her openly. If they would have been too upset, or if they were to have left and not stayed through the night; Hermione couldn't have handled. It was a slight enough that everything around suddenly felt foreign.

She buckled Harry's collar once more with frustrated fingers and sagged into her chair. The cat looked at her expectantly, like she was to continue even if she didn't want to. Ignoring the feline's plea, Hermione looked at her hands and their nimbleness, their rather short nature with a steady eye. Her fingernails were perfectly trimmed, the cuticles pushed back into their places, and it wasn't like she'd polished them lately.