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Severus Snape was not an easy man to be around. He wasn’t easy to work with or dine with or be friends with. He wasn’t easy to like.
So how on earth had she managed to fall in love?
Sybill could list on one hand the times Snape had managed to get past her flesh, through the obstacle of ribs, and puncture her heart with a gust of emotions that nearly knocked her from her feet.
She could count on one hand that had two missing fingers how many times Snape
had made her feel feelings that she didn’t think he deserved, but as a seer, who was she to question unexpected disturbances in the ever-changing journey she called life?
It was three times.
Three times
And while she had seen Snape in the future causing a ripple, she did not imagine the ripple would turn into a wave.
The first time Snape had made his mark, it was like a drop of water, from a leaky faucet. A single drip, touching down into the remnants of soap water in a dirty pan left to soak overnight.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He had shown up upon her request. A parchment invite. Long delicate letters. The smell of spicy perfumed incense lingered on the thick cut of paper.
Severus,
As we venture into another year living here on the grounds of Hogwarts, I would like to formally invite you to the chambers in which I reside for a start-of-term reading of the leaves. Tomorrow, sundown.
Bring something gold.
-Sybill
–
Snape had arrived well past sundown. Which was rather annoying, but, had she used her inner eye, she would have seen his truancy coming.
She put aside the minor inconvenience his being late had caused—minor like that of the water dripping from the leaky faucet into the pan.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She was just pleased he came at all. This was her fourth year inviting her fellow professor to come and have his tea leaves read. It was long overdue.
She opened the door after he had knocked three times. Playing a bit of payback for his being late, but not too much, she didn’t want him to leave. And he was the type to leave had she left him waiting too long.
“It’s past sundown,” she offered as a welcome and reminder.
“Some of us have other things to do besides sipping tea and choking on the smoke of cheap incense.”
“I see you brought your sense of humor,” she teased.
He crossed the room ignoring her jab, pulling his robe to cover his nose dramatically.
“How can you breathe in here?”
She crossed the room to meet him in the middle of her living space, and pulled the robe from his face, “Oh, stop with the dramatics, Severus. If you knew anything about the inner eye you would know the aromas help the brain to disconnect. It helps the eyes to fog over the fine details of that which are not important. It helps the heart to slowwww.” She said, drawing out the final ‘W’ in a purr.
“Sure it does,” Snape agreed, his tone condescending.
“Did you bring something gold?” She asked.
“Depends on what it will be used for?” He countered.
“Healing your past.”
She watched as Snape reluctantly dug into the deep front pocket of his robe. His hand resurfacing with a gold pocket watch.
He held it out to her, “Go on then, Seer, heal me.”
“Are you sure that’s what you brought for me, Severus?”
“Aside from my humor? Yes, this is what I brought you. It’s gold. You said something gold.”
Sybill tisked him, and then walked away to get the tea.
“You may have a seat on my bed, or the bean bag chair, although, it has been said that once you sit on the bean bag chair you will never get up— ultimate comfort.”
“I’ll stand.”
“For the reading of your tea leaves? Nonsense. Sit, Severus. Let your shoulders relax. Breath in the incense…”
“Choke on it is more like it…” he grumbled.
She handed him his tea, “I would like you to hold the gold watch as you drink your tea. Focus on where this particular article came from. What attachments you have to it. There is a reason I saw you holding something gold.”
Snape did as he was told, but not without grumbling and showing signs of complete and utter annoyance.
Sybill sat back and watched the man in front of her. His sour face, despite drinking a sweet tea. She watched as he acted as if he had been forced to see her, to drink the tea, and hold the golden watch. But he hadn’t been. A simple parchment was all she had sent him and she was almost certain parchment couldn’t twist his arm.
No, Severus was here on his own account. He was here because he wanted to be—needed to be. And she saw right through him. Severus Snape may have fooled everyone else but he couldn’t fool her.
She saw everything.
“Ok, I’ve finished the tea—it was rancid in case you were wondering if I enjoyed it. What next?”
Sybill found that odd. Considering she had made him the sweetest of teas. She wondered if the taste of the tea had been tainted by the golden watch.
“Hand me your cup.” She said, and he did without pause.
As clear as day in the bottom of the cup in the tea leaves was the shape of ‘The Father’.
“The watch, who did it belong to?” She asked.
“What does it matter?”
“It’s all that matters if you want to get anything out of this.”
“It belonged to my father.”
As she assumed.
“And was he a ‘rancid man’ as you put it?”
“That’s putting it lightly. He was vile. Cruel. He was as I am, ten times magnified.”
And there it was. That was what he needed to be set free from.
“You are not your father, Severus.”
“No, I’m worse than him. I could have changed. Instead, I decided to be exactly like him.”
She sat down the cup and crossed the room to him.
“Tonight when you leave here, set your clock back to the time of when you were born, surrender all of your father that dwells inside you up at that moment. Tonight you chose again, so choose to let him go.”
Severus headed for the door, and she thought he would leave without saying another word, only he paused, and she let him linger in silence, appreciating this hint of vulnerability he was offering her, and deep below the confusion and scowl she saw something beautiful: a man set free.
A man worthy of her time.
—
The second time, Severus responded to her invite punctually. Same format. Same scent. Same long elegant letters on thick parchment.
Only this time, he arrived just as the sun began to set.
“Eager?” She asked playfully as he crossed the threshold into her living quarters.
“I see you brought your sense of humor,” he teased back and she noticed the lightness that seemed to surround his shoulders as if a weight had been lifted. He had done as she told him.
Good boy.
“Did you bring something gold?” She asked.
“I did.” He said, reaching into his robe, this time pulling out a thin gold wedding band.
“Let me guess,” Sybill began.
“Guess?” He cut her off, “But you’re a seer, surely you knew I would bring a ring.”
“I was going to guess it was your mothers?” She kept on, ignoring his blatant mockery.
“Guess again, Seer.” He jabbed.
And this, this moment was more than a drip from a faucet into a pan in the sink, soaking with soapy water overnight.
This moment, with him, it was the first cannon ball of summer into the lake. This moment was more of a splash than a drip.
Run. Jump. Splash.
“It’s obvious you want me to be wrong. It’s always been obvious you’re a skeptic of divination. But yet you are here, again. With gold in hand and an easy way about you. Tell me, Severus, did you release the generational curses of your father last week after we met?”
“What if I said I did?”
“I would tell you, good job and then I would ask you how it made you feel.”
Severus huffed, “You want to talk about feelings, Seer? Well, I’m fresh out of them. I haven’t felt a thing since…” he paused.
“The ring, was it your mothers? No, no, it’s something much darker? It belonged to he-who-must-not-be-named. I know of your loyalties to him.”
“You knew of my loyalties. I am loyal to no one. I do what I must to survive and try my hand at redemption, but loyalty is for Hufflepuffs, Seer, so let’s leave it to them.”
“Are you going to explain the ring then?” She asked, again, this time a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“You guessed right. It was his.”
At his admission she stood, and poured the tea.
“Drink this.”
He took the cup and began to sip. His brows furrowed at the taste, she watched in awe and wonder; what would this tea taste of while he gripped the ring of his Dark Lord.
“It tastes burnt and dark; it tastes black.” He said, wiping the remnants of the tea from his lips.
“May I see the leaves?” She asked, holding out her hand.
Without hesitation he handed it to her, their fingers momentarily brushing against each others. Hers as if to say, I am with you as you surrender your pain. His, as if to say, I need you as I surrender my pain—my identity.
She glanced into the cup and set it down gently on her bedside table, the soft glow of her fabric-covered lamp made the skin of his worried face look as if it were painted with hues of purples and reds.
He looked beautiful at this moment. Desperate to surrender, but gripping onto his sorrow for any small bit of control.
Like the first cannonball of the summer, he made a splash.
Run. Jump. Splash.
“Tonight when you get back to your quarters slip the ring onto your finger,”
“It doesn’t fit,”
“Slip it on as far as it will go, and when you take it off, free yourself of your past with him. What you did cannot be erased, Severus. But you seek forgiveness in others when it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”
She watched as he stuck the ring into his pocket and made his way to leave.
“Why are you doing this?”he turned to ask.
“Because I saw you in my dreams. And you were holding something gold. And when you arrived you were a broken man. But when you left, you were whole.”
“I will never be whole.” He said, and turned to leave.
“I have seen it. Whether you choose it, is up to you. Goodnight, Severus.”
“Goodnight, Seer.”
This time when he left, she saw something new in Severus Snape. Deep below his hard exterior and unforgiving eyes, she saw something honest: a man forgiven.
A man worthy of her trust.
–
Three days later Severus Snape arrived on time, only this time he was uninvited, but welcome nonetheless. This time she didn't send the familiar parchment, with long elegant letters and the fragrance of her room. This time she didn't need to, because this time she knew he would come on his own.
This time he would bring the gold object that she saw in her original vision of him.
This time he would cause more than a splash, caused by the first cannon ball of summer. This time he would cause a wave, like the ocean's greatest weapon. Crashing to the seashore, again and again.
Crash. Crash. Crash.
“I don't remember inviting you,” she teased as she let him into her chambers for the third time this week.
“I figured a great seer like yourself saw me coming.”
“Maybe I did.”
“
Maybe
doesn't sound so confident.”
“ Maybe I always saw you coming tonight, it was other nights that shocked me.”
He crossed her room like an old friend would do and began to dig in his robe pocket.
“Did you bring me something gold?” she asked for the third time.
“I did,” he responded with snark.
“Did you bring me something gold that you originally planned to share with me?” she asked, knowing what he dug for within the deep pockets of his robe.
“Don’t get cocky, Seer.”
“Knowing the unknown is not a fault, but a gift, Severus.”
He held out his hand, and handed her what she had seen in her vision, a gold brooch in the shape of a hummingbird.
“It was,” he began.
“Lily Potter’s,” she finished.
“I don't want to let her go,” he admitted, his voice but a whisper.
Sybill encroached on his space. It was not something she felt confident doing, but her body often led her out of her comfort zones for the sake of the inner eye. She took his hands in hers, the brooch held tight between their hands pressed together.
“It’s time, Severus.”
“And what if I never feel again, the way I did when I was with her?” he asked, his eyes searching for any hint she may offer before she spoke, yet she took her time, and made sure to speak wisely.
Her heart hammered, like that of crashing waves.
Crash. Crash. Crash.
The visions, in this moment, all consuming, like that of crashing waves.
Crash. Crash. Crash.
She handed him the cup. Her hand unsteady, like the sea, the tea spilled over, like that of crashing waves.
Crash. Crash. Crash.
“Drink.” she said, her voice shaky, her mind still flashing with premonition.
He did as told and drank the tea. His hand shooting to his chest.
“It burns,” he said, “right here.” He held his heart.
She took the cup, her hands still unsteady, the visions slowing.
Her eyes glossed over at the sight of “the lovers” in the cup.
“Tell me what you see, Sybill,”
Her name on his lips pulled her from her own confusion.
“It’s ‘the lovers’,” she shared, and, for the first time since he arrived, her visions stopped.
“And what do I do to stoploving her?” he asked.
She sat the cup down with care and crossed her room to the door. She opened it without another word, encouraging him to go. She needed to be alone with the vision she had seen as he drank the tea.
He held out the brooch, the golden hummingbird, the memory of Lily.
“What do I do to make the heartache stop?” he pleaded.
She let her delicate fingers trace over the memento in his clammy palm.
“Tonight when you get back to your quarters, pin the brooch over your heart and think of her. When you unclasp the delicate gold from over your heart you will see the one who will replace the emptiness you feel there.”
“Seer,” he pleaded, and she didn't know what for, she had told him all she knew.
“Go,” she demanded.
“Sybill, what if I’m not ready to stop hurting?” he asked.
“I can only see what could come of this night, but only you can bring it to fruition, Severus. Now go.”
He allowed her one last pleading glance before he was gone, and in the moment she saw something in Severus Snape she never thought possible. Hidden under his calloused heart she saw something red and beating strong: a man, loveable.
A man worthy of her heart.
–
The next night, at sundown, she heard beating on her door, to no surprise it matched the thrumming in her chest.
He stood before her, this time he had no gold, and she had no tea.
“Well?”
“Do you really need to ask, Sybill?”
“Did you do as I told you, with the brooch?”
“I did,” he said, his voice heavy, his breathing unsteady with nerves.
“And?”
“And, I saw you.”