The Encounter
By: HideWriter
Summary: Where does Snape go when he is not at Hogwarts? What if he had someone to lean on through books 6 and 7? What if his last thought at the end of book seven was not of Lily but of someone else?
Just a one shot written at the request of a close friend of mine. I hope you enjoy!
Please feel free to comment at the end, I'd love to know what you think.
The weather outside matched the life that he was leading. It was cloudy, grey, and empty. The wind blew everything away just like he trained his sharp tongue and sarcastic wit to do to everyone who dared enter his life. Not that anyone got very far, he never let them. It was just easier that way. If you never let them in then they never would leave. He wasn't naïve – he knew the life he decided to live. He held no misconceptions about himself and who he really was. It was the world that was mistaken. Mistaken was the part of the world that thought him to be harsh, grueling, and unforgiving, in summary completely evil. Delusional was the part of the world that thought him to be misunderstood, private, calling out for help, in summary completely blameless. He was neither of these, he was both of these, and somehow he was the contradiction that floated between the two, never settling on one. He did, in part, burry himself behind thick walls of hatred, spite, mystique, and sarcasm to keep him from being hurt again. At the same time, he did it because people were moronic and not worth the headache that any form of communication would result in.
He was good; a spy for the light, loyal to his commander, selfless for the love that chose someone else. He was bad; he joined the evil knowing what he was getting into, he tortured and attacked with no remorse, he was enamored with the power that was offered to him. He had his insecurities; who was happy with themselves anyways, and his strengths; he is a highly valuable player on any side. That was the problem though, he was just a player on a side, a pawn to be moved, turned, directed, and sacrificed at any time the chess master decided it. He didn't know why he was doing it anymore, what was his motive, his vice – nothing of his life made sense to him anymore. He was protecting a boy he couldn't stand because of a man he could have lived with out and a woman he couldn't. Her. He didn't even know how to handle her anymore. The love was still there – it always would be. No matter how long the absence or distance, circumstance is not important, the heart always loves its first love. Yet she wasn't there and even if she was, he had no delusions that she would be with him.
These thoughts were what followed him life the blowing leafs as he walked through town. The empty store fronts were testament to the struggling times that his world found itself in. He just left a meeting with his leader, his mentor, his closet friend. His mind snarky replied that he was his only friend. That wasn't true either though, just another misconception that the world accepted as truth. HE had another friend and for a second his rambled mind settled on a picture of an elderly, yet strong woman with her greying hair in a tight bun. The peace that thinking of his friend brought only lasted a moment. Then his detailed memory brought forth the conversation that took place minutes before. He understood very well his role that he would have to play. He could see why his mentor wanted to spare the young boy, wanted to give him a chance not to become a murderer, not to become him, Severus.
This was his role; his selfless loyalty to Albus would demand he do this. He knew it was merciful; his leader would not last long with the infection on his hand. But how can he do it? Would he not be swinging straight past contradiction and straight to evil? Quickly pushing all these thoughts out of his brain he started running through different ingredients he had in his storage room. It was his default. As he was finishing with frog's eyes and moving on the usefulness of frog's feet, he realized that he walked right out of the village. It was probably better that way. The less familiar the area the less likely he was to think of the people associated with those familiar settings.
Quickly he walked to the nearest pub then as his hand was on the warn handle changed his mind and headed to the nearest coffee shop. A strong cup of black coffee was what he needed right now. Later the brooding man will look back at this moment as a defining one. If he would have gone into the pub, drunk till he couldn't see straight and returned to work how different and lonely his life would be.
Walking into the coffee shop he sighed in relief when there were no frills, lacey curtains, or hearts hanging from the ceiling. It was nothing like the tea shop in the village he just left. Ordering he quietly sat down at a corner table. Silently he started watching the crowd that was gathered in the semi empty shop. Disgusted with the normalness of all of the boring humans he was about to turn his back on the establishment all together when he noticed one lonely figure. She was also seated in a corner of the store and seemed to likewise give up on the hope that any of the inhabitants would hold her attention.
Her drink, some rosy pink liquid that was causing the outside of the plastic cup to sweat profusely, sat un-noticed by the drinker. Her head was bent low and her brown hair fell directly cutting off his view of the woman's eyes. Her eyes were focused solely on the worn book in her lap. The pages were dirtied from years of being in existence, the cover bent awkwardly as if this wasn't the first time it was bent in its current position. He couldn't see the title but from the length of it he expected it to be one of Austen's more popular works. He sat there memorized by the woman who was oblivious to the world around her, instead lost in the sea of imagination that another person put to paper. She would shift in her seat every few moments, push the falling hair behind her ears till it escaped to her evasive eyes once again.
He watched every movement, noticed every breath. Not sure why he couldn't take his eyes from her reading he quickly took in the rest of her appearance. She was nothing special by anyone's standards. She seemed to be short, though it was hard to tell since she was curled up in a chair with her feet on the seat of another, the book propped up on her bended knees. She was thicker in size, a solid build, with chipped paint on her nails and worn sandals on her feet. The muggle clothing gave him a nice idea of what her bosom looked like, even though it was covered by a thick looking t-shirt.
Quickly he re-calculated his opinion as to save himself from becoming a perverted old man. There was no way she was older then 18, he taught students that age. Firmly deciding to ignore the curiosity he developed about the woman, girl his mind quickly provided, he was about to abandon the rest of his coffee and flee. There was still a slight chance his soul wasn't going to burn for ages in the 6th circle of Dante's Inferno. He planned to leave the coffee house with that chance still firmly in place; maybe this would make it more likely.
As he was getting up to leave, she looked up. Instantly, against all his power, their eyes connected; dark empty brown collided with the chestnut warmth that lifted from the warn pages of the book. As she smiled he knew he was doomed, just as any man knows he is the second he realizes he would sacrifice his best friend for one more moment with the woman in front of him. She gave him a tentative smile and closed the cover of her book leaving her thumb to save her place. Whether this was an invitation to come communicate or not he accepted it and approached her table. Half way there he realized his mistake. What was he thinking? He didn't know how to do this, there is a reason he only ever had Lily as a female companion – he didn't know how to talk to them. Now here he was a man of 38 approaching a girl who is likely 20 years his junior and not remotely interested in a thing he will have to say.
It was too late though; she removed her feet and brushed the seat off. Pushing it out as a clear invitation for him to sit down, as he did his overactive brain registered that the book she was reading was in fact an "Austen" 'Pride and Prejudice' to be specific. He sat down, automatically preparing for the unset of some form of interrogation, or possibly for the local authorities to notice this grave assault on this poor girl's wellbeing. His face must have shown the panic of his last thought because the girl in front of him started looking around, as if she expected them to show up also. With a faint smile she slowly leaned forward and whispered "It's ok. I know I look it but I am not in high school anymore". As his shoulders relaxed her grin grew to a brilliant smile and she added "Actually I haven't been for quite a few years now, I mean there's a whole college education between then and now".
She was the first person, outside of his duo of friends, that didn't bore him – didn't infuriate him. Instead the longer they talked the more he desired to know, the more he wanted to discover. They stayed late into the night, much later then appropriate if there was anyone waiting up at home for her. When he regretfully got up to leave, after all you could not convince establishments to stay open later then their hours of service, it was with her number in his pocket. He didn't know how he'd call her but Merlin believe him he would find a phone somewhere.
They continued to meet at the same coffee house. He knew though that she would get suspicious, that sooner or later (most likely sooner) his vague answers would not be enough to keep bringing her back to their corner table. It seemed that today was that day. He remembered to change before he came this time. Last time when he left his robe on she developed the most intriguing glint in her eyes and covered her mouth to try and hide the upward turning of her lips. Now though her eyes held the same inquisitive look that he knew was reflected in his own whenever he was developing a potion.
"So where do you work?' she asked quite bluntly.
"This is wasteful communication you know very well that I am teacher."
"I know you are a teacher, a talented one I assume, but I do not know where you teach" he couldn't help sitting up a little straighter at her assumption of his teaching skills.
"I believe you are intelligent enough to know what they say is the result of a person assuming anything" Merlin he hoped it would throw her off this train of thought. Could he really reveal everything to her?
"Sev'rus" she leaned back in her chair thankfully giving him the space he needed so he didn't feel cornered. It amazed him how well she responded to his unspoken needs and how quickly he was discovering the language of her silent communication. "Don't distract me by wit, I am starting to like you but I don't plan on falling for a stranger."
"Well perhaps I am better known as a stranger then who I truly am, can you just not enjoy what we have?" He didn't like this; he was not ready to have her walkout of his life because of a nature he couldn't control and a past that he is to blame for.
"What do we have to enjoy? Yes I look forward to these meetings, to the conversation, to the critiques on books, theories, people, and life itself. But, well don't you want more?" She looked so hopeful and resigned at the same time that he, for that one moment, felt a kindred spirit in his land of contradiction.
He wanted to say yes. Wanted to shake the silly woman, for he previously discovered she was in her late twenties, and yell that he wanted everything and anything she would give him. He knew though she wasn't looking for a 'yes' she was waiting for him to answer her question.
"I…. You see… There's a law…" taking a deep breath he looked into the harvest eyes across from him. "I am a potions teacher at a school called 'Hogwarts' where I teach young witches and wizards, because I am one. A wizard that is."
Before she could open her mouth and yell at him he continued on quickly, now that he started he wanted her to know everything. "I was born a half-blood, my mother was a witch and my father a muggle." At her inquisitive look he clarified what a muggle was. "You see I am part of this other world and only came here by accident and then I was going to go back but I found you, and I have kept coming back." Finally he shut himself up before he started sounding more like the blundering idiots that graced his third year potions classroom.
"Is that why you were wearing a cape? I just thought you were a sci-fy junkie and forgot to take off your costume."
"What?"
"Never mind… Will you show me?"
"Don't you mean prove it to you, prove that I am not a liar" He knew this would end everything.
"No not prove it, but share it with me." The honesty reflected in her eyes opened something in him that died 15 years ago with the red headed witch who used to hold claim to his whole heart.
Together they walked the few blocks to the local park. There behind the cover of trees he showed her everything beautiful about his world, a world he was starting to envision for the two of them. As he walked her back to the coffee shop, and essentially her car, he slightly brushed his hand into hers until she responded and laced her fingers through his own calloused ones. The peace of that moment carried him through finding his godson bleeding in the boys toilet, detailed planning of his closest friends murder, and the angry accusations of a world he wanted to bring her into.
If his students could see him now they would most likely fall over from shock. He met her at her place; this has become their new meeting place since that day in the park. It was a small apartment with a view of the parking lot out the window and a gas fire place in one corner. They sat on the floor, his legs spread wide and her body curled between them. She studied the book that rested part way on her knee and his thy while he studied her face. It was like that day, many months ago in the small coffee house. Except this time he knew the eyes that were currently hidden from him. Reaching down he brushed aside her hair for her before she could even think to do so. Quietly he rested his nose in the crook of her neck. "I have more to tell you, more about me". Without turning she closed her book dog-earing the page she was on. "I am not a good man, I have a past, that should people find out that you are associated with I would damage any good reputation you hope to hold."
"People are daft." She placed her hands over his as they rested on her shoulders. He took it as his invitation to start sharing about a past of mistakes. Once he did the release was euphoric and he revealed to her a past of abuse, anger, love, hurt, and remorse. For the first time he cried with guilt not because he hurt someone else with his actions but because he hurt himself. As he cried, she held him and when he got up to pace, she moved to the couch, and when he yelled, she understood it was not at her. When he was done she wrapped her arms around him and started healing his heart.
That June he showed up at her door bloody, dirty, tired and with his shirt soaked from his own tears. She knew what happened, knew that he fulfilled his promise, both of them. Gently she ushered him into her one room place and removed his outer cloak. She slowly un-tucked and un-buttoned his vest and shirt then let them drop in the corner. As she lay down on her small bed she easily pulled him into her. There she let him cry, soaking her pajama top and his bare chest. He released his loss, grieved his sin, and worried for the blond boy that was currently hiding in an empty room above a closed coffee house. His concentration finally picked up a simple tune being hummed by the woman lying partly underneath him. As the tune lulled him to sleep he heard her whispered declaration of a love he knew he didn't deserve. Even though he slept soundly that night, safe in the arms of the woman he loved.
The light form the sun, that had no right to shine, slowly prodded his eyes open. The sight that was revealed was most likely the best sight he would ever be graced with. As if the sun was wooing her also she slowly opened her eyes. "Hello" she whispered and before he could think twice he leaned in and softly caressed her smaller lips with his chapped ones. Dirty, smelly, and still partly covered with blood, he didn't care. He needed her to know how he felt, that he heard her and shared the sentiment – even if the words wouldn't easily form on his tongue.
"I love you" she whispered as softly as the night before.
"And I … I l… And I you" He felt horrible; she deserved someone who could say it back. But he felt it and from the glorious smile that grew on her face she understood him. He didn't know why that surprised him, she always understood him. Filled with a lightness that shouldn't be felt with all that happened the night before, he leaned in once again to seal their declarations with a more passionate kiss.
Reluctantly pulling back he shared about Draco, the results of the incident at the tower, their escape, the Potter boys attack, and ultimately how he wanted nothing more than to stay there wrapped in her arms for the rest of his life. As he used her shower she packed a bag of supplies that Draco could use to sustain his hiding place for the next month. He joined her in the kitchen in a set of configured clothes, his old ones still left in the corner of her bedroom. She knew he had to go provide for Draco but he promised he'd return in a few days. Which he did, he spent every free moment of that summer and every moment of 'hiding' in her small apartment.
One morning she woke up to find him out on the patio, except this morning he wasn't drinking his typical cup of coffee. Walking behind him she placed her arms around his chest. He confided in her that when he was there, in her arms he felt his strongest and safest.
"I need to go "
"Why"
"Because I am needed in this fight"
"I thought you were done with them, with this, I thought you were here."
"I am here. I will always be here"
"Then why do you need to go? Why return"
"Because I need to make you proud of me, I need to deserve your love"
"But I am – you do"
"I know but I need to for myself" with that he pressed alight kiss to her temple and left for a world that wasn't sure where he stood or who he really was. He left for a world that could never understand him, could never love him, like she did.
…
He always knew life was not black and white, that it wasn't all good or bad. He knew that people lived in the cracks of the middle ground too scared or too incapable of swaying firmly to one side or the other. Leaving the great hall at the wand tip of his only living friend made him realize that even more clearly. He couldn't fight Minerva, he couldn't take in the uncertainty he saw in her eyes. To know that he played his role so well that even his friends doubted his sincerity, broke the heart he discovered he had only a year ago. He fled; cowardly he chided himself, to the one person who knew him without any doubt.
"Sev'rus, you are early, normally you don't arrive till fri-" her words died off when he pressed his lips to hers.
"Thank you"
"Maybe I should be the one saying that, why are you thanking me Sev'rus?"
"For knowing me" the simple response was all that was needed. That night he cooked for her and learned more about her family back home and how her and her brother used to pretend they were fishing in a great lake. He vowed to take her to the lake at Hogwarts. They made plans for after the war of picnics, walks, and silently reading next to the large lake and its inhabitants, that is if the school and the lake (silently he added himself to the list) survived.
Every heart that is freely given to a solider goes through that moment in time. That moment when you have to say good bye and you don't know if you will ever get to say hello again. The solider himself goes through the same moment, but they have to hide that worry and fear in a far reaching corner of their mind so that they can focus solely on the fight they have to try to win. The moment before that fearful panic settles in always consists of a heartfelt and slightly panicked conversation.
He was certain he would never have that conversation or feel that longing panic. This morning though he did. He could hardly breathe as he looked at the face of the woman who repaired and captured his heart. There were lines on her face from the indent of sleep and cloudiness in her eyes that he knew would turn into tears once he was gone. He only hoped that he was there in the end to wipe them away. It was a secret, what they had, not because he didn't want to tell everyone, although he did like his privacy, but because no one could know that he was having a secret relationship with a muggle – right under the Dark Lord's nose.
"I love you so much" his declaration startled and worried her. He never was one to outright say anything. Instead he chose to show her in his touches, kisses, and small acts of love. "If you weren't in my life, if I didn't have you. These last two years would have left me empty, hurting, and a lost soul on its way to hell."
"Sev'rus?"
"The end is coming. I promise to return once it's done."
"I will be waiting. I will always be waiting"
"I need to tell you – if I don't make it" she pushed away from the arms that previously encircled her.
"No, let's not think that way"
"It is completely impractical not to think that way"
"Why? Why is it so hard to hope for the best, can't you just do that!"
"No, it's a foolish waste of time to believe this war is going to end with daisies and small fluffy animals, next you're going to say that the Dark Lord will be handing out hugs…"
"Well, I must just be some foolish little girl!" she shouted as she stomped the few steps it took to cross her kitchen.
"No, you are not foolish" he joined her side of the kitchen, "it is just that I have both sides out to get me, I don't know if I will survive"
"Please can't we pretend.."
"No, there is no point!"
"Yes there is!"
"Really please share with me what reason you possibly have to delusion yourself with the thought that it will be simple for me to return here?" This was not going as he planned. She was supposed to say how much she loved him and he was supposed to hold her and dramatically kiss her goodbye.
"It is the only way I can let you go back without dying inside. I need to pretend that it's perfectly safe''
"And when it's not" He crossed his arms unknowingly taking on the same stance he uses in his classroom.
"God forbid I don't have to deal with that"
"But if you do?" He didn't know why he was pushing this, out of fear maybe… maybe out of hope; hope that she could convince him of this.
"Then I do – but I don't want too, I don't want to even prepare for that" She angrily wiped away a loose tear and immediately he took her into his embrace and added another reason to his list of self-hatred.
"If I am not back in a fortnight"
"Sev'rus" He held her even tighter to his chest.
"If I am not, then you will know."
She pushed away from him "That is your great plan. What if you get preoccupied, caught up, temporarily incarcerated. That is the stupidest plan I have ever heard".
"Silly woman" again he followed her, except this time he only grabbed her small hands in his much larger ones. "Do you not believe that my first stop once this is done will be your front stoop? DO you think I would get distracted with what? Reporters, rebuilding plans, searching for lost friends? Don't you know; you ARE the most important in my life, the only one I care about? You are and always will be more valuable to me than my own life. The world has seen me every day for 39 long years and it still has no idea who I am, but you, you see me and you know me. You are the only one that understands me, I use to beg to be able to feel anything, I loved the torture because at least I felt somewhat alive. But you, you make me feel like every part of me is alive and thriving. I will probably never make it to heaven but if you are the closest I can get I will go into eternity as a satisfied man." It was his turn to look away so that the liquid that threatened to spill over his eyes would stay where it belonged.
She looked up at him. "You mean more to me then you will ever know and if you could know you would not be able to accept it. Please if you must go, and I know you must, then go knowing that you are loved and cared for. That no matter your past or what will be happening in that field tonight, that my love will not falter or grow weak. You have it; you have all of it for as long as you want it. Please, don't leave me wondering - how would I know, I can't just appear next to you"
Letting go of her hands he quickly walked to her bedroom, he could already feel the mark on his arm getting warm. "Here" He started waving his wand, in his mind chiding himself for the foolish wand movements, over the middle of her dresser. "This is for you – it is powered by my own life force, my own soul – if it is lit I am alive and will return to your side as soon as I have the energy enough to appear here." He looked into her eyes one last time and mouthed a simple 'I love you' before he let the burn on his arm call him to his master who was waiting in a boat house.
"Severus…"
He let the last tear out, he didn't mean to, it was his not the boy's. The boy had no right to know of the love that was waiting for him to return, a love he probably wouldn't see again. But he had no energy left to take it back. Looking at the boy he told him how he had his mother's eyes, his first friend, his first love, his first heartache.
Then as he closed his eyes he pictured her – the short brown hair that was always being spun around a short finger. The chestnut eyes that held knowledge, youthfulness, and love. Love for him, his love for her. He was dying a hero – saving the world's savior to fight the greatest enemy. He was dying as scum, shamed of the fact that he was leaving someone that was waiting for him to come home. For all the contradictions he was, for all that people thought he could be, today in this moment he knew what he was. He was a man who was loved. Humming a few familiar notes he closed his eyes and rested with a smile on his warn face.
...
On the other side of the wall and in another world all together, sat a young woman, to most just a girl. She sat as still as the air around her. Unable to stop them, silent tears raced own her face collecting at the collar of the white shirt, still stained red in some spots. The smell of ash wood, ink and other ingredients from the shirt mixed in with the smell of her tears and the one lit candle. The only other source of light in the room, a small green sphere that rotated in front of her mirror, was gone. It left when the sphere shattered after falling from its levitation. The pieces of glass lay embedded in the carpet as she stared at her reflection in the dark mirror. As she wrapped her arms around herself she knew without any hesitation that the truth was right in front of her.
He was gone.
The End.