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Severus exhaled, a cloud of condensation filling his vision. This time of year, the city was awash with color. Fairy lights hung from trees and strung from buildings. Children ran past, excited by the possibility of presents and good cheer. But Severus kept to himself, his hands stuffed in his pocket, head bent low.
He paused at a crossing. The little man was lit up red. Stop.
“Stop! Wait!”
Severus turned his head at the familiar voice. He saw a woman with long black hair reaching down to grab her son’s hand. So, it was not her. His mind often played tricks on him. Severus imagined her at the bus stop or wandering the aisles of a shop. Still, he wondered sometimes if he might catch her face in the crowd among the many happy families preparing for the holiday.
He returned his gaze to the crossing lamp. Stop, it repeated.
When the light changed, Severus crossed and headed down the stairs to the Underground station. He waited on the platform until the train arrived, spilling its passengers, their arms full of shopping bags, gifts for friends and family alike. Severus took a seat away from everyone else and stared out the window.
The train started with a lurch, pulling away from the station. Movement caught his eye as a woman with curly hair under a homemade knit cap sat down. She pulled a book from her bag and opened it to her bookmarked page. Severus watched as passing lights illuminated her profile against the night sky.
Is it you?
The woman turned her head, and in a blink, the illusion was shattered. Ashamed, Severus stared at his lap, feeling like a creep. At his stop, he hurried off, embarrassed.
He climbed to ground level to discover a quiet street dotted with white. The gray clouds of the day had opened up, releasing their tears in the form of fat snowflakes, which coated his dark hair and eyelashes. He inhaled sharply, feeling the chill pierce his lungs. Severus shivered. He used to like the snow.
Marching home, the snow continued to fall, covering his path. Severus was no longer downtown, but the houses he passed were equally lit up. Occasionally, a careless curtain would be left open, allowing Severus to glimpse another world. A family sat around a table, breaking bread and sharing warmth.
Severus averted his gaze and quickened his pace homeward. Shame was hot in his blood, a voyeur for others’ happiness. Bile rose in his throat as hot tears pricked his eyes, though none wetted his cheeks. With a stiff upper lip, Severus walked up his steps to his door, slipping the key into the lock and pushing it open.
His house was empty and dark; no laughter brightened his halls. He did not even own a once feral cat to occupy those rare sunbeams. He tapped his boots against the mat, sloughing off the slush. At his feet sat a pile of mail, and among the stack were the usual suspects: menus of nearby restaurants and advertisements for services he’d never require. But then, he felt a piece of paper thicker than the rest, with a smooth finish. Turning it over, he discovered a row of redheads. Severus sneered. How had he been added to their Christmas card list?
He was about to toss the offending bit of post aside until a familiar face at the end caught his attention. She was beaming at the camera with his arm wrapped around her waist and—Severus’s heart stopped—a babe in her arms.
He knew he should stop looking, put the photograph down, and move on with his life. But still, he continued to stare, haunted by the knowledge that he’d been precipitously close to being the man beside her. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn. If only he had listened. If only…
Severus felt a hard tug at his navel. The photo was no longer in his hands. His stomach dropped. Looking up, he saw that he was falling. Severus forced his eyes shut, blocking out the vertiginous sensation. But as soon as it started, it stopped.
He opened his eyes to a dimly lit room. Against his back, Severus felt the cushion of an upholstered chair. He was vaguely aware that he was at a restaurant, and across the table sat… her. Her curls had been tamed with the help of a few well-placed pins, sweeping her hair into an elegant chignon. Her lips were as red as the wine in the glass, which she fiddled between her thumb and forefinger. And—Severus remembered this most keenly—her gaze was distant, hiding her pain behind a stoic façade.
How long had she suffered in silence?
“I know you say it’s the wrong time, but I wonder…” She sighed. “Are you actually scared? Or do you not want to?”
Severus knew his next words well. In fact, they haunted his dreams. But that was why he’d been brought back to this moment: to right this wrong. He opened his lips, and… no sound came out. Frustrated, he tried again, to no avail. Instead, he heard his own voice coming from all sides, a disembodied specter.
“If this upsets you so much, perhaps we should take some time apart.”
Her eyes glazed over, defeat and dejection written plainly across her features. She froze, her wine glass no longer twirling between her fingers. The chatter around them quieted. Severus felt that tug in his navel again, but he would not be pulled away. He needed to stay to make things right.
Severus clawed at the tablecloth, yanking it across the table. Her wine glass shattered, spilling the bloody liquid over the pristine white.
“Hermione!” he yelled. She remained frozen, unmoved by his plea or destruction. “I’m sorry; I was wrong!”
In a blink, she was gone again.
That happiness she’d been searching for? She’d reached out with both hands and taken it for herself. But where did that leave Severus? On the floor, sobbing quietly to himself, utterly, impossibly alone.