Disclaimer: I do not have ownership to any rights of the Harry Potter world. They belong solely to J. K. Rowling. Anything beyond this point is purely fanfiction.
Denuo Nasci
By Manca
Chapter One: Invenire
He kept telling himself that he hated vacations; that Albus was an idiot for 'suggesting' that he relax. He didn't need the rest and relaxation that the population of today's world so desperately searched for. He enjoyed sleeping late and waking early. He enjoyed slaving over his boiling cauldron and nauseous fumes. He enjoyed tension headaches and back pains and migraines. He enjoyed his nosy colleagues and their pestering. And most of all, he enjoyed blithering, screaming children and their bitching.
But some how, Severus Snape could not quite convince himself of all his explanations. The steaming water felt too good on his back. The knots were soaking out of his muscles, and he could practically feel the tension floating away. So maybe he was lying to himself. Maybe he did enjoy a good vacation. And this was a good vacation.
Albus had sequestered him away in a ryokan in the outskirts of the Kyoto prefecture of Japan. Severus was beginning to appreciate the location. It was thousands of kilometers away from the British Wizarding World. And quiet. And beautiful. And peaceful.
Right now, Severus was soaking in a hot spring. It was the dead of winter and snow was falling in thick clumps all around him. The jagged rocks around him smoothed as soon as they reached the water and made a shallow ledge for him to perch upon. The bones of sleeping trees poked out into the cold air. He could get used to this. He watched a snaking tendril of steam escape his bath. It climbed higher and higher until it finally dissipated into the night sky. He watched the spot where it disappeared; a splash of stars met his gaze. He watched the spot until his eyelids drooped and he began to doze. He stayed like that for an eternity; just him, the silence, and the stars…
"Mother?" A boy, twelve or thirteen, peeked his head into the darkened bedroom. "Mother? Will you be rising soon?"
A lump in the ample bed moved. "Hmm?"
The boy walked in further, towards the heavy drapery. "Mother, you need to wake up. The lawyers will be arriving shortly." He yanked the thick velvet to the side. A great stream of light now shown on the bed. "To discuss father's will."
The lump was now a person. A gaunt woman with stringy black hair sat blinking her eyes. "The will?" Her voice was hoarse, cracking.
"Yes, the will. Father's." The boy was now in the adjoining bathroom, running the water. He poured in salts and herbs he knew to be relaxing. He shut the spouts, and frowned. They dripped. Drip, drip, drip. The caretaker would have to spoken to. He walked back to his mother. "Come on, I drew you a bath. I put lavender in it."
"Lavender?" The woman was struggling with the coverlet. It was too heavy for her to lift. The boy pulled it from her. He let her lean on him, and slowly they made their way to the bath. He sat the woman on the toilet and began to pull her bed socks off.
"Do you think I put enough in? Lavender is your favorite, right?" He didn't wait for a response. He stood her up and unbuttoned the row of buttons on her night gown. It fluttered to the ground to expose pale, papery skin. Thick blue lines ran up her arms and neck. They ran across her sagging breasts and pocked stomach. They ran down into her legs.
She quavered as she stood. The boy lowered her into the bath. "I need you to sit up." He took a wash cloth and ran it along her back and limbs. He soaped her hair and rinsed it. "Do you want to soak a bit? I'll go down to get breakfast. Do you want sausage or bacon?" He did not wait for answer to that question either. She always had bacon. The boy made sure she was sitting securely and left her to soak.
He came back with one egg, two strips of bacon, and a slice of wheat toast, no butter. It was what she had every morning. But the breakfast was forgotten. Because all that was left in the bathroom, were the dripping faucets and a pair of blank eyes.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip. Severus's head snapped up. A woman was now sitting across from him in his hot spring. Honestly, who would want a bath at this time of night? It was nearly one. The woman seemed to be sleeping. She had sunk herself into the water so only her head was exposed. She was pale in the moonlight. It gave her an ethereal quality. He could see her fringe of lashes from where he was sitting. Her cheekbones were high and very prominent. They almost, almost looked sunken into her heart shaped face. Her hair was somewhere in the brunette shade; he was sure it would be in daylight. It was short, to her chin. It hung in thick, heavily waved sections. The tips were pointed from the water. They were also dripping. For some reason it annoyed him. Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Find something interesting?"
Severus jumped, something he never did. He attributed it to state of laziness he had acquired.
"Well?" The woman prompted. Her voice rolled over him. It had depth and a soothing essence to it.
"Your hair, it's dripping." He said flatly.
She looked at him a moment to determine if he was serious, and then burst out laughing. A rich laugh that matched her voice perfectly. "Does dripping bother you? Annoy you? Bring to mind some horrible childhood memory?"
Severus wanted badly to tell her, that yes it did, so she should shut the hell up. But he settled for a stony "something like that." She was staring at him. He took the opportunity to look fully at her. She was sitting up fully now. She was thin, almost anorexically so. Her neck was slender and long. The tendons traced along it in sharp ridges. Her hair was dripping onto her narrow shoulders. He could see the bones making them up. The clavicles stuck out sharply and slanted down into a deep hollow. His gaze flitted down. Her breastbone was flat and disappeared into some white swimming contraption. Her breasts were small for her size, but they suited. He couldn't go down any further. Steaming water blocked his view. But he was sure, that underneath the water, sat a thin body with a tiny waist and a set of long legs. He flitted back to her eyes. They were brown, with something to them. Red or gold. Something that made them different from any pair of brown eyes he had ever seen before. And they were gazing quite piercingly at him. He felt scrutinized, bare.
"You look familiar." She looked at him expectantly. When she did not receive a reply, she swam towards him. "You look familiar." She stated again. She was close now, invading his personal space. He did not like it. He tried to scoot away. But she was quick; she closer now, her face was inches from his. He could see the sweat drops on her forehead. Her eyes were boring into his. She began to whisper quickly to herself. "Black eyes, black eyes…you are so familiar," her voice grew in volume. "Have you changed yourself lately?"
He did not answer, but stared blankly. She was terribly close to setting of his temper. He did not like inquisitive people; they reminded him of the less savory years of his life. Interrogation rooms, truth serums…
"I know you from somewhere. I can feel it." Her voice was urgent. Her hand was reaching for his chin. He snapped back before she could touch him.
"Se..Severus," he sputtered out. "Severus Snape." He was quickly moving his body out of her vicinity. She was making him uncomfortable. Especially now, she was smiling at him. It was an odd, small smile that barely lifted the sides of her mouth.
"A wizard." A simple statement.
Severus's heart froze. He wanted to leave. What if she was leftover follower? What if she had all this pent up hate because she was on the losing side? What if-
"Professor Snape."
A student? He rapidly filed through his memory. Brown hair, brown eyes. What was she, twenty-three or twenty-four? Outspoken to the point of impertinence. And then he knew. He knew.
"Miss Granger, I see you've cut your hair." She raised her eyebrows in astonoishment.
"Yes, do you like it? It took me weeks to decide if I should go through with it. The stylist thought I should have gone shorter, but I thought lopping a good half meter off was quite enough for me." Well, if that wasn't rambling, she didn't know what was. She was surprised that Professor Snape had recognized her so quickly. Hell, she was surprised that Professor Snape was here. What was he doing in Japan anyway?
"It's passable." His voice rumbled through her.
She shrugged at him. "Thanks." Gods, this was uncomfortable. She wouldn't have even spoken to him if he hadn't have been ogling her. Maybe not ogling, staring. Staring had always unnerved her. But she had just been dozing, not bothering about her bathing partner at all, when she had woken to find the strange man staring at her. Or rather, her hair.
Hermione hadn't recognized him at first. He had gained a little weight since she had seen him last. He had lost the gaunt look. There weren't so many lines on his face. He was still pale. His eyes were still black. His hair was still dark and long as ever, but it shined differently. She attributed it to the bath. His nose was still hooked and crooked. She wasn't sure, but if she looked closely, his teeth were straight and not yellow. Actually, they were quite white. And there was a quality to him, something that made him so different that she could not recognize him. He was relaxed.
The more she thought, the more aware she became of the silence. She drummed her fingers along the side of the bath near his head. "So…"
"Yes, Miss Granger?" He practically spat out. He glared at the tapping finger.
Hermione immediately stopped. "Sorry," she apologized. "It's a nervous habit I get, when I don't know what to do. It's rather silly, I think."
He turned his glare to her. "Does rambling list with your annoying habits? I'm sure it must rank somewhere with your other hundreds."
"Well! If that's how it's to be, Professor Snape, I think I should be off to bed. It is getting rather late." She gave huff and removed herself from the water. Yanking on a robe, she stalked back to her rooms leaving the Professor in the water.
Severus sat in the water quite pleased. He had correctly guessed earlier that she was indeed too skinny and her legs were also long.
***
Hermione sat in her room quite a bit later still huffing. He hadn't changed a bit. He was still a bastard. A big one. A big, nasty bastard who had no social skills what so ever. All she wanted was to make polite conversation. It shouldn't have been that hard.
Hermione: Hi, how have you been? It's been so long since we've seen each other. I do hope everything is going well for you.
Professor Snape: Why thank you, Miss Granger! So lovely that you've been concerned for me. I'm afraid that everything is not going well. You know that big stick I've had up my ass all these years? Well, it's still there! I'm afraid it might have worked its way deeper.
Hermione: That's horrible, Professor! How about I help you by yanking that out and beating you senseless with it?
Bastard.
It was only working her up. She should push it out of her mind. And she did just that. She forgot all about his snarkiness while she showered and dressed for bed. She settled herself on the flat mat on the floor and pulled out a book to pass the time. It was about three in the morning, when her head was nodding and the book had fallen to the floor, that the doors slid open and a figure stepped in. It shook its head at sleeping Hermione and went to bathroom. About ten minutes later, a clean young man about twenty-four stepped out freshly showered. He kneeled by Hermione and gently shook her awake.
" 'Mione? Let me get you situated."
Hermione blinked her sleepy eyes at him. "Harry? You're back. How was your night?"
Harry was fluffing her pillow for her. "You can lay back down now." As soon as she settled, Harry lay down and curled into her. "It was good, 'Mione. You know, they got some nice gardens here. I'll take you to them tomorrow."
"That's wonderful, Harry. I'm sure they were beautiful." Hermione snuggled deeper; she was already asleep.
Harry kissed her cheek, "Hermione?"
"Hmm?" she murmured.
"You don't have to wait up for me. I always make it back okay."
He almost didn't think that she would answer. It was good minute before she mumbled again. "I worry, Harry. That's all." And she said no more.
Harry kissed her cheek again. "I love you, Hermione." He settled back to stare at the ceiling.
He'd been having sleeping problems since he could remember. He'd tried Dreamless Sleep, but he'd begun to develop a dependency on it. Hermione abruptly put a stop to that. She had put a stop to all of his stupid mistakes: painkilling potions, slashing, low risk drugs, high risk drugs. Hell, she even put a stop to his penchant for unprotected sex. She kept him line, something he hadn't wanted, but needed desperately. She was a savior to him, the mother he never had.
It started after the Last Battle. After all the smoke had cleared, and the survivors were left standing. Harry became painfully aware that not all that should have been were there.
Harry was searching. His eyes flitted frantically across the ruins. He'd finally killed Voldemort but he didn't care. He couldn't find his family. He began to call out frantically.
"HERMIONE! RON! Where are you?" He stumbled over people. He stepped on corpses and didn't care. "HERMIONE! Please, where are you? RON!" He couldn't find them. He grabbed at passing people. Begging, pleading about the whereabouts of his two friends. But none could answer him. They all looked at him like he was an invalid.
But then, he caught sight of them. Such relief flowed into him. There they were. Hermione was bent over an orange head. Her hair was so long back them. Her head cracked up and her eyes grew so wide when she saw him. He knew something was wrong. She was shaking her head at him. 'No' she mouthed. 'Stay back, Harry.' But he ploughed on, pushing people aside.
"No! Stay back, Harry! You won't like it. Stay back!" Hermione's head was shaking frantically now. She turned back to Ron. She used her long hair as a curtain. She pushed Harry back when he was close enough. "No, Harry!" She was fighting him now, smacking her hands against his chest. All of a sudden she collapsed, sobbing. "He's dead." She cried into him. "He's dead. He's gone." He had never heard her voice like that before. It was high and strung and watery.
Harry let the truth soak into him. He looked at Ron. He looked like he was sleeping, just like he did every night in the Gryffindor dormitories. He had his eyes closed, and a small smile was on his face.
Harry didn't remember much after that. He knew he cried with Hermione until someone pulled the two apart. He was bathed and fed and given a dose of Dreamless Sleep. The potion didn't help. He knew that when he woke up the next morning the same problems would be there to greet him, as they would for a long time.
***
In a room three units down and across the hall, Severus couldn't sleep. He tried six different positions, but nothing seemed to help. Each position seemed to strain a muscle or pull at a bone in an uncomfortable direction. Currently, he was lying on his stomach with his head turned and staring at the vial of sleeping draught next to him. He was willing himself not to take it. He didn't know why he was getting the sudden urge for it. He hadn't needed anything of that sort for a while now, not since the Last Battle. No, he needed control. He reached out and pushed the vial away. But it was still in his eye sight.
Why was he thinking so much? Nothing important happened today, except for Miss Granger. That was hardly worth all this trouble. He saw former students all over place. He saw Terry Boot last week at Gringott's. Cho Chang was at Madam Maulkins, and the Weasley girl was keeping company with less than savory men at a pub. Every time he saw them, he treated them with same blunt coldness that he had shown at Hogwarts. It was nothing new.
He glanced at his watch. 'Too late to go bed, get up! 'It flashed brightly at him. Severus complied. Three minutes later saw him in the shower scrubbing his body down. Then, he was in front of the mirror running a bald razor across his face. A stream of left over water in the shower head decided to spring down. Severus jumped and succeeded in slashing the razor quite deeply into his face.
"Damn it," he swore. He pressed a bit of tissue to the gash and watched as it quickly soaked through. It was then that he remembered his mother and what she had done at their home in Ireland.
***
The man moaned under her. "Gods, baby. Ah!" He was going to come soon, she could feel it. She ground her hips harder into him. He was pawing at her. His fingers gripped painfully into her sides. One hand was pressing at her breast. She squeezed her thighs harder. "Baby! Where did you learn this?" He was breathing faster and faster. She smiled to herself. He had her shoulders now, his head was thrown back. "Ah!" And with a groan he pulled her to him. She could feel him twitching inside of her as he bit down on her neck. Then it was over. "Ginny, baby. That was beautiful." The man was breathless. He tried to roll the two of them onto their sides. But Ginny was quicker. She slid out of the embrace and off the bed.
"I can't tonight," she murmured. "I have a meeting a nine o clock. I can't miss it." She picked up her underwear and slid it on. It was followed by her skirt. She snapped her bra on.
The man pulled at her arm. "You always say that. You never stay."
"I can't. I have a meeting." She yanked her arm back. She buttoned her shirt up. "I told you that already." She couldn't find her shoes. She usually kept all of her things together. "Have you seen my shoes?"
"If I tell you, will you stay?" He was taking on a whining tone. Ginny hated whiners.
"No," she snapped. "Just tell me where my damn shoes are."
The man was angry now. "Fine! Be that way. They're under the bed, you stupid whore." He sat back in bed like a petulant child.
Ginny kept her temper in check. She retrieved her shoes and coat and was out the door, but not before she heard, "Ginny! Wait! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" And the door was shut.
She began to run as soon as she was outside. She was in the dingier side of town. The buildings were run down and occasionally a person would reach out to her from a street corner or stoop. She kept running until the street lamps became more frequent and the paint wasn't peeling from the buildings. Then she stopped in an alley and cried.
She had become something unsavory, something vile. For Heaven's sake, she couldn't even remember the name of the man she had just been with. She couldn't remember his face. He had to have been a regular; he knew her name. She couldn't keep doing this to herself, to other people. She was sobbing loudly, great wails.
"Miss?" A light shown on her. "You all right in there?" It was police officer.
Ginny swiped at her nose and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Just a fight with the boyfriend. That's all." She was lying.
"You gonna be okay? Do you need me to take you somewhere?" He was approaching her. His voice was kind, though.
"No, no. That's okay. I only live a few blocks away." Ginny got up. "I'll be fine. Don't worry, sir." She began to walk in the direction she came from.
"You sure?" The man was already half way into his car.
Ginny turned her head back. "Yeah, I'm good."
"Okay, miss." His door shut and he drove away. As soon as the car was out of sight, Ginny glanced around. No one was visible. Pop.