AN- This is a new idea that I thought I'd have a go at writing, born of the fact that I don't like the fate of a certain character in the books (he deserves much better), but I'm writing it as I go along so you might have to bear with me; I'll probably only be updating every week at best. Yes, it involves a time-related twist, but no, there is no actual going back in time, per se, like so many other plots,so you'll just have to bear with it until I get to explaining everything. I think the introduction of this is probably a bit long before it actually gets going, but I just wanted to set the background and the scene of the world that Hermione is living in now before I actually get to the action, so I hope you can bear with it. Disclaimer- i don't own anything you may recognise!
Resurrection Snape
Chapter 1 – The Journal of a Good Man
Hermione Granger could be found, as always, surrounded by books and parchments.
It was the middle of the afternoon on a seemingly ordinary Thursday and she had had just about enough of correcting the manuscript in front of her that she was preparing for publication. She didn't know what was waiting for her that evening, nor would she remember it later, but it would come about because of two of those precious books of hers. One of them was already in her possession, and the other would come to her that very day, the day everything changed.
She sighed irritably, striking another three lines out of the by now liberally red-streaked text before her and writing a note of amendment carefully in the margin to the side. This manuscript was just full of errors on the author's part. Truly terrible research, but apparently they were printing it, so it was her job to get it up to scratch. Why was she helping amend this pile of dung when she could write original research ten times this quality on her own, again? Sometimes her job truly exasperated her.
Throwing down her quill, she pushed up from her place amongst the teetering piles of books and parchment threatening to overspill her desk. Managing to navigate a path across the space of her cramped office, she immediately threw open the gloomy window to try and get a bit more light and air into the space. It didn't help much; the day was dank and overcast, and even if it had been brighter outside, the proximity of the buildings from the other side of the winding street was such that the room was always pretty dark. Only narrow rays managed to get that far down, into to the second storey of the office for Obscurus Books, London.
"Hermione?" a dreamy voice came floating through the room from the hallway, making her spin around on her perch on the windowsill. A second later the voice that had been calling her came into sight in the doorway. She was still only a dim silhouette even that close to Hermione, as the extra light from the window made the threshold into the room and beyond look extremely dark, but Hermione didn't have any trouble recognising the figure or her light, whimsical voice. "Hi!" the willowy figure addressed her again, coming closer into the room, her long blond hair whipping around her shoulders as she bounced towards her friend. "Fancy coming out for lunch with me, Hermione?" she asked tentatively, "I'm bored stiff in the shop this morning."
Hermione straightened up and stepped over to greet Luna Lovegood. "Luna!" she said warmly, giving the other girl a light hug and stepping back again to look over her appraisingly. "Why are you bored stiff at the shop? I thought you loved it there?"
"Well, I do, but there's been no customers that have actually placed orders at all so far today, and all I've had to occupy my time this morning is pruning the Flitterblooms and the ginger plants," she sighed pitifully. Anyway, I left that new assistant I hired in charge while I get lunch, and I thought maybe you might like to come too? I'm sure Federica can handle it for a couple of hours or so," Luna waved vaguely, as if it were nothing.
Hermione was sure that Federica could probably handle the practical running of Luna's magical floristry shop much better than Luna could handle it herself, if truth be told, but she decided not to comment on that particular fact. She had no idea how a woman as vague and fanciful, as Luna could often be, managed the practical things such as account handling and order taking on her own. It had certainly seem more ordered and less like organised chaos the last time she had been in there now that Federica had been hired to help out and was exerting her presence.
She considered her offer.
"I'd like to come to lunch, Luna, really," Hermione hesitated, feeling a bit guilty for knowing that she really didn't have the time to spare today on a lunch with Luna - with her could literally take hours… "But I don't know, I've kind of got loads of manuscript checking still to get through, I'm behind where I should be really…"
Luna looked mutinous, so Hermione hastened to explain all her backlog.
"I've got this stupid Venezuelan Botany guide that is making me have to pick through so slowly, can you believe the writer has actually confused some of the properties of aconite with red Innoxian plantweed, I mean that could be- "
"I'm lonely without Ginny around. I miss her," Luna sighed again abruptly, cutting off Hermione's rambling excuse and looking bluntly at her.
Hermione groaned mentally. Another awkward Luna comment that she didn't know how to respond to. Great. "Um... I miss her too, Luna, but it's not like she is gone forever, she'll be back within a month from the tour, provided none of the matches go on over schedule,"
"I know. But I miss Neville too, and Harry and Ron. I mean I know Harry and Ron haven't gone anywhere," she elaborated slowly, "but it feels like they have, doesn't it? All that Auror training is making them disappear," she said miserably. "Come and have lunch Hermione? I know you're missing them too. At least we could hang out together for a bit, and look, you're too stressed here," she said, waving her arms around in a very vague fashion to indicate all the mess of parchment and books that Hermione was supposed to be wading through, "you need a break," she finished.
It was said in a very authoritative way, and Hermione was finding it difficult to object, looking around herself. She was stressed, and she knew exactly what Luna meant; she had been missing the boys and Ginny terribly. She hadn't realised how little she had been able to hang out with friends recently, but now that Luna was pointing it out, it was kind of obvious that she had been feeling a bit lonely. She hadn't seen Ron or Harry since the weekend before last when they had all been together at the Burrow to celebrate George's birthday. Try as they might, that had been a bit of a sombre affair anyway, since it was also remembering Fred's.
"Fine, I'll come," Hermione relented quickly, before Luna could make her feel any guiltier. She knew the girl had to be just as lonely as herself recently what with the removal of two of her best friends- Ginny and Neville, who had both gone off on very different and exciting trips abroad. Ginny; who had finally made it off of reserves and on to the team as a fully-fledged member of the Holyhead Harpies; was on a world-competitive tour to promote the squad in other Quidditch strongholds around the world. The last postcard that Hermione had received from her had announced her to be in a wizarding settlement close to Vancouver in Canada, where there were a number of games set up against the local league. As for Neville, he was on a solo expedition researching and cataloguing the local magical varieties of plant life in the Caribbean islands, a trip that was to take him at least a year. Both she and Luna were both in regular contact with him, as his knowledge of botany was proving extremely helpful to some of Hermione's current projects, and he was sending some of his notes to her for editing into his own eventual journal on the island flora. Hermione knew that he was also helping Luna to source some of her rare breeds of magical flower for import into her shop direct from the Caribbean. It wasn't the same as having him nearby though, and it wasn't as if it was easy to just Apparate that far back on a regular basis.
Shoving all the thoughts of their far-flung friends aside for the moment, she grabbed up her purse and the outdoor-cloak hanging on the coat-stand by the office door, making her way out. Before she made it, however, an errant thought made her pause, looking back. Luna, who had already pranced out ahead of her, heard the halt and looked back too, frowning at her.
"Aren't you coming?"
"Yes, I just… let me grab something quickly. I'll just be a second," Hermione called back, hesitating just a second longer before rushing back to her desk. Opening the little drawer to the side she pulled out a small battered looking leather book. The leather was a dark, almost red colour, and the book was thick, the pages looking well thumbed and crumpled, not laying quite perfectly flat on top of another, which probably added to the volume. The cover was completely plain save a silver embossed monogram in the corner reading 'SS'. Grasping it carefully, almost reverently, she prised open the clasp of her purse and dropped the bound leather book as carefully as she could inside. It gave a soft thunk as it hit the bottom; she had taken to magically enlarging all of her bags since the war, and this one, being no exception, was far larger on the inside than the tiny clasp purse it appeared to be. Having the book with her she felt much safer. That thing was her own special project, and she hated leaving it lying around. Ever since she had gotten a hold of it in her possession, she had taken to carrying it around with her nearly everywhere she went. Not like it was replaceable, after all.
That done, she followed Luna out of her offices. On the first floor they passed through reception. Luna waved merrily to the raven-haired witch behind the welcome desk as she pranced on past. She started down the spiral staircase leading to the shop housed below on street level. The woman looked a bit disconcerted at Luna's behaviour, following her progress past over her spectacles with obvious perplexity at the strange girl's levity. Hermione just nodded to her embarrassedly, following Luna over to the staircase and making her way down at a more sedate pace, and then through the small in-house bookshop underneath in which they sold their own publications.
"They work you too hard in there," Luna stated simply, after they had exited the office out into the cold crisp air of Diagon Alley and were walking briskly up the street side by side towards the other end of the Alley. A multitude of new shops had broken out in the last few years. Luna's shop was just one of the ones that had opened to fill the many vacated and boarded up shops that had hastily closed during the war, bringing a fresh life to the street. They came level with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and peered inside but it didn't look like George or any of the other Weasleys were there, so they carried on without entering. By common consensus they found themselves walking to the new café just past Luna's shop that sold a number of the pastries that Hermione was rather fond of. Luna was always happy to go there, having struck up a friendship with the owner Nell. She had been a cheerful Hufflepuff in the year above Hermione's own, but neither of them had come to know her until after they left Hogwarts. They took up places on stools along the bar and Luna started chatting merrily to Nell as they made their selections from the counter.
Hermione chose a pastry and started nibbling on it absently as she let Luna and Nell's conversation wash over her, not really paying attention. Her mind was still on the leather book that she had secreted away in her bag. Maybe she would manage to wrap up her work early that afternoon and go home a bit sooner, and then she could have some time to sort some more of it out that evening.
"Hmm?" she asked, breaking out of her private reverie as she realised that Luna had spoken directly to her and had been looking at her a bit critically, obviously aware that she hadn't really been at all with her. "Sorry," she blushed, "what was it you asked?"
"It's alright, I know how easy it is to get caught up in your own daydreams," Luna said in a thoroughly dreamy voice of her own, as if she just might at any second. "I just asked you if you've heard from Neville recently. He said he was going to try to locate some dragonspore for me but I haven't gotten a floo or an owl from him in a while,"
"Oh!" Hermione shook her head, getting her thoughts level with the conversation again quickly, "I haven't since I got that last package of notes from him, actually, no. I'm sure he is just caught up with his work, again; to be honest I think he loses track of the time when he's all alone just cataloguing those plants. Not that he minds it, it's good that he finds it so fascinating,"
"Yes, he really loves his botany," Luna mused.
Nell had wondered off to the other end of the counters to serve some other customers.
"I'm sure he'll be in touch soon, anyway," Hermione reassured her friend.
They spent some time discussing what everyone had been up to. Luna had heard from an old Ravenclaw friend, Mandy Brocklehurst, that Professor Flitwick was finally taking his retirement from teaching at Hogwarts with the end of the year. This surprised Hermione, who had never really considered that he might soon be giving it up, never mind his age.
"Yes, so apparently it's all over the ministry that McGonagall will soon be posting for a new Charms teacher," Luna informed her, wide-eyed.
"I'm sure he'll be missed," Hermione remarked.
"Maybe you should apply for the position, Hermione," Luna mused.
"What? Why me?" Hermione asked, astonished. "I have a perfectly good job already, Luna, and a very busy one at that," she continued, in an almost reprimanding voice. "I'm sure they'll have dozens of applicants for a job like that,"
"Yes, but you'd be so good at teaching," Luna carried on, "and I know you're not happy at the moment," she continued, sounding more and more pleased with her idea.
Hermione frowned. Luna seemed very assured of the fact that Hermione was unhappy. And she had to admit to herself, she wasn't exactly at her best these days, but it was just that loneliness she'd been thinking about earlier; not because she was unsatisfied with her job. It was just because their friends were all away and busy and she was missing them, like Luna.
"I'll admit that I've always like the idea of teaching as a profession," Hermione replied to her friend's eager face, "I'm sure it would be very rewarding, in fact; but I'm not looking for a career change, Luna,"
"I expect you're right," Luna looked a bit disappointed, but dropped the subject nonetheless. After that she went on to eagerly trying to persuade her friend to accompany her on a spot of shopping so that she could purchase some more supplies for her shop. Hermione tried to tell her she needed to get back to work, but the girl was irrepressible, and Hermione soon found herself conceding defeat to her and allowing her to drag her off for another hour. It's not like she really wanted to get back to proof reading that awful botany guide, anyway.
Hermione browsed the shelves at the back of the dusty sunlit shop, waiting for Luna to finish haggling with the old proprietress. They'd gone to a shop that Hermione had never been in before; it seemed to be into the mismatched selling of everything, from potion ingredients to antiques, instruments and second-hand books. Hermione, no surprises, had gravitated towards the books. She was just scanning the spines half-heartedly, really wishing she could hurry Luna up and get out of there. It was already much later than she liked and there was no way she was going back to the office now; the manuscript could wait. She just wanted to be out of there so that she could go home early; she patted the purse absently, mind on the prized tome tucked safely away inside it's depths.
It was then that she spotted a dusty purple spine embossed with shining silver letters; the letters that caught her attention. She peered closer and lifted it off the shelf. It's title read, 'Theories of Time-Turners.' More than a little intrigued, she flipped it open immediately and began poring over the pages of the book. It was unlike anything she had ever heard of before. It had never really caught her notice that she had only ever read passing or vague references to the makings of Time-Turners before in magical practice; but this book was full of complex theories on their making and how they actually worked.
She was stunned. All she really knew about them before was how heavily they were regulated and restricted; and that since that Ministry's store had been destroyed by her, Harry and the others all those years ago in the department of mysteries, it had been reported that no more were to be made on the grounds of their unsafe nature. Surely a book like this wouldn't be allowed to just be in common circulation, to be picked up anybody with a passing fancy?
Hermione was just debating the book and whether she could in all seriousness really leave it there in the store, as dangerous a topic as it was, when Luna called her to attention. It seemed she was done and was now ready to leave. Making a snap decision, Hermione held her find firmly in her hand and went over to pay for it at the counter. Besides it's controversial nature, it was bound to be a fascinating read.
She was a bit nervous about even handing the book over to the old woman to buy it from her, lest she say something about it and decide not to sell it, but she didn't even bother to glance at the title as she packed it in brown paper for her and Hermione handed over the money. Hermione inwardly sighed in relief and took the proffered package quickly as soon as it was offered, making sure to put it away safely in her purse with the leather bound journal, before she followed Luna.
When she finally reached the safe confines of her apartment late that afternoon, Hermione felt a sense of relief. Luna had been a welcome company for a change, but she was exhausted by the effort of social interaction and longed for some time in reflection and solitude. Tired, she pulled her sleek brown hair back from her face and twisted it, setting it back into an elegant chignon as she walked into the comfortable living area.
As soon as she sat down she pulled out the two books from her purse and laid them down before her on the coffee table. Deciding to save the new discovery for perusal another time, she picked up the by now familiar leather journal instead and unwound the bindings to open it.
Her hand moved across the crisp first page in an almost loving caress. She read the neat, handwritten markings as she did every time she opened the journal. The Journal and Work of Severus Snape, Professor of Potions.
Sighing sadly, she flipped through the journal until she found her place from the last time she had been sorting through the book.
McGonagall had given it to her after the war; she had just turned up at the office one day about a year after Hermione had started working there, saying that she hoped Hermione could put it to a better use than anyone else, and that she didn't think Severus would have minded. Of course, Hermione had only understood exactly why she had given it to her later on once she had read it. Snape's journal was a mix of private thoughts, potions recipes and unique spell work, just as the half-blood prince's textbook had been that he had written in as a child. It seemed that he had never given up the habit. All of his research, his private thoughts, his emotions- those private parts made for uncomfortable reading, and she had flicked past most of them, not able to intrude on his privacy even after death- but all of the unique work that he had invented and transcribed and never shared; that was the part that she found fascinating and that McGonagall had meant for her to have. Because she could do something with it.
It had been her greatest ambition for a while now to organise all of this portion into a work that could be published and put to use by the wizarding community. She felt that it was the least she could do for a man that had died in the line of the cause for good, while the whole wizarding community had feared him and thought the very worst of him, and so wrongly. He was the very best of all of them, she realised later; the one who had been the most loyal and devoted to the side of good, yet the one who had been suspected and been left all alone to deal with the tasks Dumbledore had left him, without a friend to turn to. How had he carried such burdens?
He deserved to be remembered for the brilliant man he was, and sadly, even now that man was overlooked and forgotten, despite them all now knowing what Harry had told them of his true allegiance. But not by her.
"I was so scared of you, once," she uttered softly, smiling ruefully at the little journal as if it was the man himself. "If only I could see you again now; how different things would be knowing who you are. You never deserved to die."
Hermione sifted through the information as she made her notes, copying out sections and sorting them into categories of spells and potions to one day make up part of an ordered manuscript. She couldn't help but be absorbed by some parts of the text, reading his method and marvelling at his ingenuity in places. She never thought of working this way- of creating completely new pieces of magic through trial and error- she had only ever been about doing things by the book- by other people's books, that is. She read about how to do things and then learned them, but she'd never created her own. Even now, he was teaching her things from beyond the grave.
She kept this up until, with a start, she realised that it was already past ten at night. How had time flown by so quickly? Rubbing her eyes, she realised how exhausted she was again. Time to go to bed. She tried to gather up the notes she'd made that night, to place them with all her others that she'd already taken, but she'd somehow managed to spread them about half the room, and there was lots of other papers and manuscripts lying about; she'd have to sort out this mess tomorrow. She left the stack she had collected so far with the journal on the coffee table. That's when she saw the purple timeturner book again. That thing could be put away on her shelves, though. She didn't want it lying around, even if it was in the safety of her own apartment. So she picked that one up and put it safely away on her vast shelves before going to bed.
It wasn't morning yet.
Something had woken Hermione from the deep sleep that she had quickly fallen in to, but she couldn't tell what it was in the pitch black of her bed chamber right away. She lay still and tried to place it. There was no noise that she could discern above the regular pace of her own heartbeat, but somehow she could sense that something was wrong, and it was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in apprehension.
There was someone standing at the foot of her bed, watching her. The certainty rose up within her with absolute clarity, and she was frozen in terror for a moment as she thought furiously, weighing her options. How far away was her wand? She knew it was on the bedside table in clear reach but if she made a sudden lunge for it would she have the time to get it before she was attacked? It couldn't be guessed at, but presumably the intruder still thought her asleep at the moment. Would it be better to reach for it slowly in the darkness until she could inch it toward her, and then attack? How had anyone even been able to get in? She decided in a heartbeat to go with all her courage and just lunge for the wand to defend herself with. She couldn't bear the suspense of the second option; she might be attacked at any moment. She threw herself towards the cabinet on which she had left her wand, reaching blindly for it.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Granger," a silkily smooth voice rang out in the silence, almost making her jump out of her skin with fright. It was spoken extremely softly and quietly, but in the complete dead of the apartment it sounded like the most resonating, plangent tones. "Do not fret, I do not plan on attacking you," it spoke again.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It was impossible. She had never thought she would hear that voice again. It sounded so like him. Was she still asleep, or was it just that this stranger was so similar in voice that it reminded her of another?
She definitely felt awake.
Then it was the second. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She took a shaky breath and summoned the courage to answer the beautiful silky voice.
"Who are you?" she could hear her own voice come out timid and shaky, but there was no helping that now. She tried to summon a bit of that assertive Gryffindor courage from deep within her to face the voice.
"You already know me," was his simple reply, as if that should solve everything. A sudden blaze of light appeared from the direction of the stranger, filling the room.
Hermione blinked back stars, completely unable to see in the sudden shift from absolute black to absolute light. It took at least a minute for her eyes to adjust, and all the while she was blinking up at the stranger, desperate to see his face and glean his identity, for until then her apprehension and fright towards the intruder would not go away.
Slowly, he swam into sharper and sharper focus, but reality swam further and further away.
She gasped in horror; she could do nothing other than shut her eyes again in forceful adamance against the truth of what her eyes were telling her.
"That can't be," her voice shook even more, "You're dead," she opened her eyes wide, staring at him with disbelief.
"It appears not," his deathly quiet voice replied smoothly, refuting her. He took a step closer to her, round the end of her bed. She scrambled to pull herself upright, her eyes never leaving his face – his face, undeniably his. How could it be true?
"B...but I was there," she stammered, "I saw you die, I saw your body." There was really no way around it. He couldn't be here now, not after all these years, and the memory still as fresh as yesterday.
His face was unreadable, a emotionless, pale mask with glittering pools of darkest onyx staring back at her, a flesh and blood, breathing contradiction.
"A clever trick, of your own design," he murmured.
Severus Snape was standing in her bedroom, and he was very much alive.
Dun dun dun…. To be continued. Please review this if you can find the time, and thank you for reading. I'll try and post the next part soon.