Please note that this is part two of Chapter 48- Fathers and Sons.

As soon as they appeared, Hermione slid her hand from Snape’s arm, and he dropped his hand to his side, straightening formally. Hermione stepped forward to join the other Gryffindors and Snape faded back from the group, waiting for the doors to open.

Ginny flicked a glance between Snape, Hermione, and Harry, hoping Snape had decided to be civil to Harry. Her keen eyes saw the evidence of tears on Hermione’s face, and even Snape looked like he had been rather harrowed. Tension coiled in her gut as she watched Harry cut a sulky glance at Snape.

Fortunately, the doors opened, and they all began trooping into the Hall. On her way, Ginny cast a furtive glance at Snape, managing to catch his eye. He gazed inscrutably at her for a fleeting moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, inclining his head in the slightest of exasperated nods. She knew her relief was apparent when he blinked at her and snorted. She glanced around, seeing no one watching, and flashed Snape a grateful smile before hurrying down the aisle.

Snape herded the students into the Hall, bringing up the rear and closing the doors behind him. He paused a moment and leant against them, mentally trying to prepare himself for rehearsal, determined to hold back the instinctive venom that welled up any time he dealt with Harry.

Dumbledore was casting spells on the students, and those in the scene ascended the stage, waiting for him to place the sets and tell them where to go. Snape strode slowly down the aisle, noting that Harry and Ginny were sitting in the audience, whispering to each other. As he watched, she leant in and dropped a light kiss on his cheek before she darted up to join the others. Ron and Neville edged past Harry to take seats beyond him, and they all settled in to watch the scene.

As Dumbledore began shifting the sets, Neville squirmed in his seat, turning to peer over his shoulder and seeing Snape standing behind them. He blanched at the sight, and Snape gazed down his nose at the nervous boy. But then, Neville seemed to give himself a shake, and he looked back up at Snape, politely nodding and murmuring, “Evening, Professor.”

Snape blinked in astonishment that the boy had spoken. Usually, Neville was one to shy away from him as much as possible, always looking positively terrified at the mere sight of Snape. Taken aback by such an extraordinary occurrence, Snape simply inclined his head and retorted, “Longbottom.”

Ron and Harry both turned in their seats at the sound of Snape’s voice, and they stared, wide-eyed, between their mate and their teacher.

Snape saw the consternation and amazement in their faces, and he stifled a pang of amusement. Flicking a glance at the stage and seeing Hermione, he remembered his vow to make an effort. Inhaling deeply, he turned his gaze back to the other Gryffindor boys and offered a grave, “Weasley.”

Ron’s eyes seemed about to fall out of his head, and he choked out a creditable, “Sir.”

Snape then let his gaze rest on Harry, and he fought to control the swirling emotions that accompanied his perusal of the boy. The part of him that was determined to be fair piped up and reminded him that Harry had not told the others what he had seen. He had actually obeyed Snape’s injunction. Focusing on that, Snape held back the sneer that was almost always ready to curl his lip any time he encountered the boy. Determined to be irreproachable, he murmured, “Potter,” nodding faintly.

Harry stared at him, green eyes glittering with confusion and incredulity. Snape forced himself to hold his gaze, without devolving to hostility. The moment seemed to stretch eternally, until finally Harry blinked several times, almost stuttering as he attempted to respond. Licking his lips, he cleared his throat and uttered a low, “Professor.”

Snape exhaled, glad that attempt at civility was over, and promptly whirled, Disapparating. The boys all exchanged bewildered looks, unsure of how to interpret such a benign greeting from Snape.

Eventually, it was Neville who broke the silence. “Well, that was interesting…” Ron and Harry both made inarticulate noises of agreement. Letting out a rather nervous chuckle, Neville continued, “So, Harry, think maybe the girls are on to something after all?”

Harry frowned, casting a sceptical glance at Neville, but his eyes were clouded in thought. He sank down in the seat, growling, “We’ll see.”

Neville decided not to push the issue, and instead relaxed into his seat, marvelling at the fact that he had instigated an interaction with Snape, and it hadn’t resulted in insults! A little spark of pride warmed his chest, and he gazed up at the stage with a faint smile.

Onstage, the actors were in their places for the rehearsal of Don Juan. As they began practicing, Dumbledore pulled a scrap of parchment from his robes and muttered to himself as he read it, waving his wand half-heartedly. When the scene proceeded to the point where Reyer left the piano, Dumbledore turned to the piano and murmured the spell he had just been practicing, making the piano play on its own.

Unfortunately, the cast wasn’t quite ready for such an occurrence, and they all stopped, spinning to stare at the piano playing feverishly. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the piano went silent. He gazed at them with raised eyebrows, clearly questioning what was wrong. A rumble of sheepish apologies rolled through the cast.

Favouring them all with a stern look, he gestured for them all to resume their places. Then, he enspelled the piano again, and they all reacted according to the script, reciting the chorus.

Dumbledore was busy shifting sets as they performed, beckoning for Hermione to edge away from the others as the rehearsal set faded away and the graveyard set moved in. Once the rest of the cast was offstage, he paused, gesturing to Hermione.

“I know this is going to be a very emotional song for everyone, and I know you can perform it brilliantly. So, what I’d like to do is have you just do whatever you feel is natural, and we’ll make changes if we need to, all right?”

Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. “Certainly, sir.” She returned to her previous spot and waited for Dumbledore’s nod. Moving closer to the mausoleum, she lightly recited her lyrics. But once she reached the crypt, she dropped to the stage and began singing.

Snape was watching from Box Five again, and he was transfixed by the eerie beauty of her song. It built and swelled, and he felt as if his chest would burst. As she faded back to the quiet tone of loss, he realized it was almost his cue. Frantically shooting to his feet, he Apparated to the stage, hunkering down behind the crypt, pulse racing and breathing shallowly.

When she finished her line, he gripped the top of the crypt and pulled himself up, appearing above it from behind. Gently, coaxingly, he began his lines. Hermione gazed up at him slowly materializing on the crypt, and stared fixedly at him, rapt.

He crept forward, out of the shadows, hand outstretched. He could hear a furtive whispering coming from the house just beyond the edge of the apron, but he ignored it, looking only at Hermione, who had begun to rise, moving as one in a daze.

They were locked on one another, until the source of the whispers became clear. Harry stepped out from the wing, having been instructed to enter there by Dumbledore. Hiding behind a statue, Harry watched Hermione drawing closer to Snape where he reached toward her from atop the crypt.

Snape leant forward, gripping the pike impaled in the pile of skulls on the crypt for leverage, stretching his other hand toward Hermione, urging her to step closer. Hermione moved toward him, entranced.

Harry barked his lines, interrupting them. Hermione ignored him, and Snape kept murmuring his lines, beckoning to her. Harry darted forward, stopping by Hermione and desperately trying to gain her attention. He grasped her arm, but she stepped forward, out of his grip. Then Harry faced Snape and bellowed, “Let her go! For God’s sake, let her go! Christine!”

Closing her eyes at his impassioned yell, Hermione shook her head and glanced up again at Snape, who was still reaching toward her. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she gasped, then spun, turning wide eyes on Harry. Barely audible, she stretched her hands toward Harry and said, “Raoul,” hastening to him and throwing herself into his embrace.

As Harry wrapped his arms around her protectively, Snape snatched his hand back, pulling up as if he had been burned. Before he could proceed, Dumbledore suddenly barked, “Wait!”

All eyes turned to him, wrenched from the tense spectacle before them. Dumbledore hurried onto the stage, crossing to Snape. “Severus, that pike and skull are charged to shoot fireballs. The incantation is Inflamare. If you’d just cast it non-verbally, that’d be best.” He beamed up at Snape, who merely nodded. Dumbledore shuffled offstage again, saying, “Very well, continue!”

Snape looked at Hermione and Harry. Harry was eyeing him warily, and Hermione hoped her warning wasn’t too obvious to everyone else. Snape peered curiously at the pike, lifting it from the pile of skulls on the crypt. Frowning at it, he thought, Inflamare, and a ball of fire streaked out of the skull toward Harry.

Harry yelped and jumped back as the flames dashed onto the stage at his feet. Hermione gasped, and the rest of the cast reacted noisily. Snape was gaping, wide-eyed, at Harry. He saw the accusation and anger burning bright in his eyes, and he realized that Hermione’s expression was just as hostile.

He was aghast. He hadn’t meant to shoot at Harry. He hadn’t meant to shoot at all! It seemed that the pike was quite sensitive. It had all been a mistake, and everyone was staring at him like he had done it on purpose. The hot-cold prickle of shame washed over him, and he shut his mouth. Swallowing hard, he rasped, “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Potter. That was completely unintentional. Are you all right?”

Another susurrus of shock whipped through the cast, this time at Snape’s apology. Harry’s brows shot up, and he stared at Snape as if the man had grown a second head. Snape stood frozen, actually looking chagrined and uncomfortable. Blinking, Harry glanced around, seeing identical expressions of astonishment on many faces. But he also saw Ginny and Hermione gazing intently at him, a flare of triumph in their eyes as they silently urged him to recognize that Snape was being civil.

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. Cautiously, he said, “I’m fine. Just startled me, that’s all.”

Snape actually bowed toward Harry in a gesture of apology. “I shall be more careful.”

Harry eyed the man suspiciously, remembering that he had said those same words to Snape at the end of the last rehearsal, but there was no indication that Snape was being facetious. Suddenly, he felt a jab between his ribs. Hermione was poking him fiercely. Flashing her an annoyed look, he grudgingly muttered, “Thank you, sir.” With that, he glared mutinously at Ginny, who was beaming at him, and shrugged away from Hermione in a fit of pique.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you all take a moment to write down your blocking so far. We’ll pick back up in a minute.” Everyone bent over their hastily opened scripts, scribbling. Once they had all tucked their scripts away again, Dumbledore nodded and said, “Action.”

Hermione stepped back toward the crypt, and Harry tried to stop her. Snape resumed his hypnotic murmur. This time, when Harry yelled, and Hermione ran to him, Snape deliberately snatched up the pike, carefully aiming it in front of Harry’s feet. Hermione was hidden behind Harry, curling in on herself.

At a thought, a fireball streaked from the pike to Harry, splattering on the stage before him. Harry glared up at Snape, but used it to stay in character. Snape immediately launched into the Phantom’s taunting. Harry and Snape went back and forth, and after each of them spoke, Snape cast another fireball. Fortunately, they merely evaporated once they hit the stage, so no one was in danger unless hit with one directly.

Hermione cried, “Raoul, no,” and Harry stepped closer to Snape. With each successive fireball, Snape landed them closer to him, as if pulling Harry forward with them. Harry was halfway to the crypt when Hermione spoke up again, pleading, “Raoul, don’t.”

Harry snapped a furious glance over his shoulder at her and hissed, “Stay back!” He turned back to Snape, advancing more, and Snape landed more fireballs at his feet. He was almost to the crypt when Snape reached the end of his goading lines. Hermione suddenly rushed forward and grabbed Harry’s arm, desperately yanking him away, gasping, “Raoul! Come back…”

Snape had been leaning forward, bending toward Harry in anticipation. At Hermione’s frantic move, he straightened, pointing the pike at them as she dragged Harry offstage, roaring, “Don’t go!” Once they were out of sight, Snape dropped the pike to his side again and snarled, “So be it! Now let it be war upon you both!” With that, he slammed the pike back into the pile of skulls, and viciously thought, Inflamare! Flames shot from the pike and blanketed the stage as Snape plunged his hand into his robes, gripping his wand and casting Sollumaren. The stage was engulfed in a bright flash of light, and Snape Disapparated in the disorienting blaze.

There was a burst of noise among the cast, unprepared for such a dazzling display. Snape looked out from his position back in Box Five and saw everyone shielding their faces from the light, glancing about, searching for him. When Dumbledore waved his hands at the cast to quiet them and began searching for Snape as well, Snape Apparated back to the stage, expression inscrutable.

Dumbledore cast him an incredulous glance before breaking out into a grin. His voice was coloured with laughter as he drawled, “That was quite the impressive display, Severus. Someone’s been paying attention to the stage directions…”

Snape felt relief wash over him. He had been steeling himself for a public reprimand at his reckless use of the pike and his spontaneous use of the Blaze of Light Charm. Apparently, Dumbledore was rather taken by his theatrics.

Harry and Hermione emerged from the wings, and Snape snuck a look at them. Harry’s expression was pensive. Realizing that it would serve many purposes—staying in Hermione’s good graces, covering his arse with Dumbledore and McGonagall, and keeping the other students guessing—Snape politely inclined his head toward Harry and said, “I trust you were not singed, Mr. Potter?”

Harry blinked at him and cast a disconcerted glance at the other students, but retorted, “No. I’m fine. Sir.” Snape’s lips twitched at the obvious afterthought of the “sir,” but he didn’t take him to task. Behind Harry, Hermione’s eyes lit up with pleasure at their courteous interaction.

Below them, Dumbledore was making notes in his script. Waving his quill at them, he said, “Come now, mark your blocking! That was brilliant.” They all quickly wrote their notes, and Dumbledore shooed them all out of the way so he could reset the stage. “All right, you know the drill. Let’s go through it again. This time, see if we can make it without stopping.” He didn’t notice the aggrieved looks shot at him from the cast, since he had been the one stopping them!

Snape slunk off into the wing to await his cue, deciding he could simply enter the stage with the set piece as it rolled in. As cast members passed him, they nodded courteously, and he did the same. It amused him to see the perplexed looks with which some of the students gazed at him. Perhaps it could be entertaining to be nice for a change. They certainly don’t seem to know what to do with themselves.

The scene progressed, and Snape felt much more at ease controlling the pike. A fleeting thought that Dumbledore should be very careful about who could get access to such a device crossed his mind, and the succeeding image of Draco and Harry using it against each other made him suppress a groan.

They ran through the scene a third time, with the music, and everyone sang. It was still haunting to listen to Hermione pouring out such sorrow in her song, but once everyone was involved with the music, things flowed quite well. After the final dazzling flash of light, Dumbledore called everyone out for notes.

Snape gravely approached Dumbledore and handed him the pike. In an undertone, he said, “Perhaps you should keep a close watch on this device. It seems that some might find it enticing, for entirely inappropriate reasons.” At Dumbledore’s curious look, Snape tilted his head toward Draco, who was glancing longingly at the pike, then shooting furtive calculating looks at the Gryffindors who were milling onstage.

Comprehension dawned, and Dumbledore took the pike from Snape, nodding ruefully. “Point taken. Thank you.” Snape jerked his head and edged away. Clapping his hands for silence, Dumbledore announced, “Next Tuesday we’ll be running through the Raoul/Giry scene from last time through the end of tonight’s scenes. Don’t forget to keep practicing what we’ve already done. It wouldn’t do to end up back at square one when we do the full run-throughs of the Act.” He cast a stern but pleasant look over the cast, and they smiled back.

Dumbledore tucked the pike under his arm, saying, “Very well then. Run along! Good night,” then turned to the stage and began restoring things back to normal. Everyone trundled up the aisle, buzzing with conversations.

Harry was assailed on all sides by his mates. Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione surrounded him as they exited the Hall.

Ginny slid her arm through his and squeezed. “See? That wasn’t so awful, now was it?”

Ron nodded and gazed at him with a puzzled look. “Yeah, how odd was all that? Snape being decent? I would’ve thought he’d have enjoyed shooting fire at you.”

Harry nodded, and Neville added, “I swear it looked like he was really sorry about that first one.” He shook his head and snorted. “I gotta’ say, Harry, I think he has changed.”

Harry paused, glancing back at the tall figure in black still behind them. He looked at Hermione, who was eyeing him with visible hope, and rolled his eyes. Heaving a huge put-upon sigh, he rumbled, “Fine! So he wasn’t a total prat. It’s a start, I guess. But that doesn’t mean he’s my new best friend!” His lips twisted in a sneer, and Ron buffeted his arm.

Pretending to be offended, Ron said, “I reckon not! He’s got to get past me, first.”

They all laughed, and the boys jostled each other down the corridor. Hermione and Ginny exchanged joyful, relieved looks. Hermione piped up, “Hey, what am I? Don’t I count, too?”

Harry smiled at her and said, “You know better than that.” Then, his eyes narrowed and he gazed at her speculatively. “I guess you talking to him did make a difference.” Hermione shrugged. Harry nodded at her and added, “Thanks.”

Smiling softly, Hermione murmured, “It was nothing. Don’t mention it.”

Harry rolled his eyes and snorted. “No doubt! ‘Don’t mention it.’ Sounds perfectly spiffing to me! Let’s drop this whole ruddy subject and get to bed, eh?”

Climbing the stairs, they all mumbled in agreement, and Harry flung his arm around Ginny. Falling back to trail behind the others, Hermione glanced back at the corridor, seeing Snape watching her from afar. Daring to smile and ripple her fingers in a wave, she hoped he could tell how proud she was of his efforts. She turned back to the stairs, and when she glanced over her shoulder again, he was gone.

It didn’t take long for them all to head off to their respective dorms once they arrived in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione secluded herself in her room, stroking Crookshanks and thinking about everything that had transpired that evening. Finally released from the excitement of the rehearsal, she felt her energy flagging.

I guess Severus was right. I am tired. I know I would usually spend some time studying before I settle in, but I’m positively drained from such a roller coaster of emotions! She went about changing for bed, yawning. Of course, I did promise Severus I would try to get to bed earlier. He made such an effort tonight; it’s only fair that I do the same.

With that justification in her mind, she snuggled under her covers, burying her face in Snape’s shirt and breathing deeply. Crookshanks joined her by her pillow, and she scrubbed him, lulled by his drowsy purr. Exhaling a long, slow, cleansing breath, she smiled in contentment and thought, Thank you, love. I know everything tonight was hard for you. But, it makes such a difference to me to know what you’ve been through and how much effort you put forth in trying to please me. I love you, Severus. Succumbing to sleep, her hand stilled on Crookshanks, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the comforting weight of her touch, and he, too, drifted off.

Down in his quarters, Snape sat in front of his fireplace, staring into the flames. He was clad in his comfortable lounge wear, and his fingers covered his mouth where he had propped his chin on his hand. A long time passed, and the fire burned low. Eventually, his eyes closed in fatigue, and his head drooped forward.

Muscles going slack in sleep, his chin slid off his hand, and his head fell forward, startling him awake. He looked about, disoriented. Relaxing again, he glanced at the time. Inhaling sharply, he rose, stretching and yawning. Get to bed, you daft sod!

He looked at the time again and idly thought, I wonder if Hermione has gone to sleep yet. I know she said she stays up, but she looked so tired. Surely she kept her promise… He stopped, straightening as a rash idea took shape. Gazing furtively about his own sitting room, he swallowed, smoothing his robe and hair.

It is after two… With that, he disappeared.