Chapter Text
As I slowly float back into consciousness, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and try desperately to ignore the incessant pounding in my head. It is, after all, wholly self inflicted. Carefully, I reach out and blindly try to pull the covers back over my head. All to no avail. Reluctantly, I give in to the inevitable and cautiously open my eyes, only to realise that I haven't actually made it into my bed. In fact, I haven't even managed to make it into my bedroom. I find that I am currently lying inelegantly on my hard living room floor.
Wonderful.
I stretch out fully in the hope that my aching spine will somehow click itself back into place. One of my hands suddenly connects with something smooth and cool. The object skitters noisily across the wooden floor, making a tinkling sound as it goes. Instinctively my gaze follows the noise and my eyes fall upon a completely empty whiskey bottle, which finally comes to a stop, next to a discarded pile of papers, haphazardly strewn across the old worn out rug.
A loud groan bubbles up over my lips as disturbing images of the night before start flashing through my mind. Warily, I reach down and pick up a handful of paper and begin to read. I am prepared for the worst. I wish I could say the reality isn't anyway near as bad as anything I could have imagined. In truth, it is worse.
Much worse.
I can't help the panic which builds without warning deep in my chest. I try to slow my breathing and calm the rapid beating of my heart. My efforts are futile. There is only one thing I can think of doing in such dire circumstances. I rush to floo and begin shouting like a complete lunatic.
"Hermione Weasley. Hermione - Hermione are you there? Hermione, where the hell are you? I need you! Hermione, Hermione, Hermione -"
"Harry?"
Finally, I see Hermione as she approaches the fire. She's still in her dressing gown and amusingly, the fluffy pink slippers I bought her as a joke for her birthday. Merlin, I have never in my life been so happy to see her.
"Hermione, something terrible has happened and I think I might be in trouble."
"Goodness Harry, are you alright? Are you injured? Should I call Ron?" She is frantically trying to asses the situation and I feel a little guilty for making her worry.
"No, no, I'm not injured." I try to reassure her, though I can tell I have not appeased all of her concerns. "But I have made a huge mistake. Is it okay if I come through?"
"Yes, of course."
She steps aside and I waste no time in stepping into the fireplace and calling out the address. Hermione is ready at the other side to catch me when I stumble clumsily out. I curse under my breath as I emerge covered in soot. No matter how many time I travel by floo, I just can't seem to get to grips with it. I brush myself off and straighten up.
"What's going on 'mione" I hear Ron call from the next room.
"Harry's here. I'll bring him through," she shouts back, then looks at me and adds, "Come through Harry, we're just having breakfast, it's awfully early."
I grimace and cast a quick tempus. It's only 6.30am. No wonder Hermione is concerned. I don't think I've been up this early since the war ended.
When I enter the kitchen, Rose is in her high chair and Ron is trying to coax the baby to eat by making enthusiastic choo choo noises.
The sight is rather adorable and the gripping tightness in my chest begins to ease slightly. I breath in slowly through my nose.
"Morning Rosie Posie," I coo at her, she garbles something back and Ron looks up.
"Crickey mate, you look rough. What's going on? Some sort of work emergency?"
If only it was that simple, I think to myself. Work I can handle, it's the other aspects of my life that are out of control.
Hermione hands me a steaming cup of tea. The familiarity and safety of being with my best friends washes over me like a soothing balm. I feel the tightness in my chest loosen even more. The panic decrease and I feel that I can finally breath easily again.
I really do love these people.
"No, it's not work." I say, after taking a large sip of my tea. "But, I have done something incredibly stupid, even by my standards."
"Well, if you're calling on us this early in the day, it must be bad." Ron muses, gathering more porridge onto Rose's spoon. I watch it fall back into the bowl and Ron starts the process all over again.
Hermione looks at me but waits for me to continue. I swallow hard around the sudden lump that has formed in the back of my throat.
"I wrote a letter." I finally confess gravely.
Hermione wrinkles her brow but continues to remain silent.
"You've got your knickers in a twist over writing a letter. Bloody hell mate, it must have been some letter."
I glance at the evidence in my hand. Apparently it was.
"I wrote a letter to Snape."
Hermione places her own cup back down onto the table and Ron's hand freezes half way to Rose's mouth. She grunts in annoyance and he gives her the spoon. She licks it happily, getting most of the food all over her smiling face. Ron's attention moves from his daughter to me.
"You wrote a letter to Snape? Really? Blimey."
I'm not quite sure if he sounds impressed or horrified. I know which one I am.
"I did." I say. "But, erm, I had a bit of liquid courage first."
"What, you mean like liquid luck?"
I shake my head mournfully. That would have been a much more sensible thing to do.
"No Ron, he means alcohol and by the look of things, I'm guessing it was quite a lot of alcohol."
This time I nod, feeling every bit the idiot I truly am.
"Okay," Ron says, obviously digesting that bit of information. He wipes some porridge from his hands onto his pajamas. "So, you wrote a letter to Snape while you were a bit worse for wear, but maybe it isn't that bad. What did you write?"
This is actually the crux of my panic.
"I have absolutely no idea."
It's true. I have no recollection of what I wrote . All I know is, it can't possibly be anything good.
They both stare at me as if they've never seen me before. It's quite unnerving. I can feel the heat rising in my face.
I clear my throat and try not to sound as stupid as I feel . "I mean, I can't remember. The whiskey's made everything a bit fuzzy."
"But you do remember sending the letter?" Hermione asks. "If you were drunk enough not to remember what you wrote, maybe you didn't actually send a letter at all."
It's a fair point and would be very sound logic, except, sending the letter seems to be the one thing that is crystal clear in my memories. In fact, I remember feeling particularly pleased with myself. I clearly remember waving off my new owl as it carried away, what I considered to be a profoundly deep and meaningful love letter to the man of my dreams.
I swear to Merlin, I am never drinking again as long as I live.
"Yeah, I definitely sent it," I say resigned to my fate. "I remember that much. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I sent some sort of love letter to Severus Snape." I thrust the papers I've been holding onto the kitchen table and point at them accusingly. "And although I can't remember exactly what I wrote, those, are apparently some of my earlier attempts."
Hermione reaches over and picks up a few of the drafts. Ron moves over her shoulder and begins to read aloud.
"'I've got chills, they're multiplying, and I'm losing control, 'cause the power you're supplying, it's electrifying.' Well, I mean yeah, the bloke is powerful, but electrifying's going a bit far."
I cringe at just how awful it sounds. My life couldn't get any worse.
"They're muggle song lyrics, Ron." Hermione interjects then looks at me. "I didn't know you liked musicals, Harry."
"I found it in a record collection with some of Sirius' old stuff."
"Really? Who would have thought!"
"Not the point Hermione!" I say exasperated. "What If I've gone a quoted Olivia Newton John and John Travolta at Severus."
"Good point." She admits. "As far as romantic declarations go, he'd probably be more impressed if you quoted someone like Keats."
I want to bang my head on the table.
"Wait, hold on, look at this one. This one's not too bad." Ron says triumphantly, waving a piece of paper at us. He looks so pleased with himself. Unfortunately I can't bring myself to share in his optimism. "'Severus, I like you very much, just as you are.' It's simple, straight to the point. I think Snape would like that."
"Oh, yes, I know that one," Hermione exclaims excitedly. "You've seen Bridget Jones' Diary?"
"Read it actually." I huff. I'm not ashamed. "Bloody good read, in my opinion."
"What?" Ron asks sounding more than a bit confused. "Who is Bridget Jones and why are you reading her diary? It's not cursed is it?"
Now I really want to bang my head on the table. Repeatedly.
Hermione doesn't even grace that comment with a reply "It's entertaining I grant you," She begins. "But she puts entirely too much importance on physical appearance and need for a man. And don't get me started on - "
"Hermione, focus! A discussion on feminism right now is not going to help me with my current dilemma." Although actually, secretly I do agree with her.
"Yes, sorry you're right. There are more important things to consider."
"Okay, good." I say, hopeful that things have gotten back on track. "So, what should I do about the letter I sent?"
"I don't think there's much you can do, mate?"
"Ron's right, you only have a few options available."
"Which are?"
"Go and see him and tell him the truth." Hermione suggests.
"No."
Absolutely not. I have embarrassed myself more than enough already. I cannot face Severus. It would be completely humiliating. That's never going to happen.
"Next?"
"Forget it ever happened and if Snape ever brings it up, deny any and all knowledge of it."
Hermione actually glares at her husband. He'll be in for a telling off later. The thought nearly makes me smile.
"Why don't you wait and see how Snape approaches the situation," Hermione says, instead of berating Ron. "You don't know how he feels about things and I think you might be pleasantly surprised. But, Harry, please don't lie to him. The man is likely to forgive you many things, but lying is not one of them."
I hate to admit it, but she's right. Lying is most definitely not an option. Things between the two of us are good. Really good and have been for years. The quickest way to destroy all the trust we've built up, is for me to start lying to him. No, The best thing I can do is simply wait things out. Granted that's not normally my strong point, however, I'm determined to give Severus space and see how things play out. I can't say I like the plan very much. The man is unpredictable at the best of times, so I have absolutely no idea of how is going to react to my confession. Not that I can even remember what I have actually confessed to.
Merlin, what a mess.
I'm brought out if my thoughts to the sound of Rose crying. Hermione sweeps her up into her arms, while Ron moves to the sink and places a hand on my shoulder on his way past.
"It'll be alight Harry. I'm sure of it. You and Snape will work it out," he says. Then he pauses glances back at Hermione before he leans over and almost whispers into my ear. "But seriously mate, why the hell are you reading this Bridget girl's diary? Diary's have always been bad news. I thought you would've learned your lesson by now."
I suck in a sharp breath and let it out with a shaky laugh.
"Yeah, me too, Ron." I say, "Me too."