A/N: First and foremost I want to say that I do not condone the use and/or abuse of drugs, legal or otherwise. In this story Hermione has suffered a severe mental breakdown brought on by the grief and guilt associated with the murder of her parents. These types of breakdowns can cause people to make irrational decisions, as is the case here. I'm not an expert in the field, I'm just a regular person and I have seen what drugs have done to people that I love.
Waking the Dead – Chapter 2 – Severing Ties
Hermione was shaking. There were chills coursing through her body that had nothing to with the cold, she had been standing at the same street corner for hours begging every passerby for money. She didn't have enough. She was beginning to wonder what she was going to do. Thoughts of what the other addicts had done for money came into her mind, but she hadn't resorted to that yet. The need for her fix was becoming desperate. Of course Hermione remembered that she was a witch, but she didn't like to think about that. It brought back the pain. It had been a long time since she last used her magic, and she only used when it was absolutely necessary. This was quickly becoming one of those times. Her magic had become weak due to the effects that the drugs had on her body, but she could still perform basic spells.
She ducked into an alley where her new familiar was waiting for her. A stray dog she called Othello. Hermione always had soft spot for the weak and defenseless. When she found him he had a broken leg and was nearly starved to death. Hermione healed him and stayed by her side since. Although she didn't eat much herself, she had a knack for finding food and Othello prospered.
Tonight Hermione was going to do something that was against both muggle and wizard law. She was planning on multiplying her money. Technically this went against the laws of transfiguration. However, those laws did not account for muggle money.1 Few things involving magic ever did. Hermione would use this to her advantage. The spell was simple enough and her need was greater than any regard she might have once had for the law. When the spell was cast she hid her wand and set off to make her nightly purchase, knowing full well she would be back in the morning for more.
Sleep always eluded her afterwards, the rush sent waves of energy through her body. Hermione rarely slept anymore. That night she stood in front of a shop and regarded her reflection in the window. It had been the first time in months that she had seen her own reflection. Hermione never cared about the way she looked before, but she knew that she would have been considered pretty. Now the person staring back at her was unrecognizable. She realized that she would be a stranger to the people she once knew.
Hermione had always been thin and had always maintained a healthy weight. The person in she saw reflected in the window was at least twenty pounds underweight. Her eyes were sunken deep in their sockets, and the once wavy mane that she was proud of was dirty and matted.
Unable to bare what she was looking at, Hermione ran from the shop window. Othello ran behind her, nipping at her heels but soon settled down when his mistress sat down on a park bench to cry. "What have I become Othello?" Hermione wanted to die at that moment, and was determined to so. She decided that her next trip would be her last.
~o0o~
After faking his own death, Snape went to live at the Prince family estate. As the last descendant it was rightfully his even if the family had disowned his mother. His grandfather was probably rolling in his grave at the thought of a half blood living in his home, but the house was rightfully his. As the last living descendant it was irrefutable, just as Sirius Black had inherited his family's fortunes despite having been disowned by the late Mrs. Black. No one but he and Dumbledore knew of the existence of this house. Even if it was discovered that the transfigured floor board was not his body they would never be able to find him there. The house was under the Fidelus charm and the secret died with Dumbledore. It was also quite unplottable, helped by the fact that it was hidden deep in the high country. Severus thanked Merlin that the Princes had been extremely paranoid. Possibly the result of inbreeding, nonetheless it suited him fine.
When he arrived at the house he had been weak. It was amazing that hadn't splinched himself. An old house elf named Poppet welcomed him gleefully and tended to him over the weeks that followed. The attack had taken a lot more out of Severus than he originally thought. The phoenix tears did wonders to improve the potion, but his recovery had been slow. He grateful for Poppet, had the wound not killed him, he probably would have starved to death without him.
As he grew stronger Severus became better acquainted with his new home. The house had been a vast improvement over the house he grew up in. He wondered what it had been like for his mum. Then again it probably wasn't much better for her then it had been for him growing up, if she ran away to marry a muggle like his father.
He spent his afternoons in the library. Thankfully he had the foresight to have all his books sent here before the end of the war. Not that there was a lack of books in the Prince family library, but Severus was rather fond of his collection. Many of the books he owned belonged to his mother and were very special to him; even those devoted to the darks arts. Not that he wanted to read them again but they were very valuable and Severus regarded all of his books thusly.
Severus marveled at the irony that had become his life now. For many years he longed for solitude, time to read and experiment in his potions lab. Now that he had it, there was a part of him that missed his days at Hogwarts. Not that he missed teaching the dunderheads, never that, but he did miss his colleagues. Severus had never been one to socialize, but he did respect them and held them in great regard. Most of them had actually taught him after all.
He managed to shake himself out of that mindset. If he was actually thinking about Hogwarts, he must be suffering the worst case of cabin fever in recorded history. "I really need to get out of here." He went upstairs changed into muggle clothing and apparated to London, to a location far away from Diagon Alley as he could possibly go. This made it less likely to run into anyone who would recognize him. He could use a glamour or polyjuice, but the former took up to much energy to hold for long periods of time, and latter required ingredients not readily available to him. His appearance in muggle clothing very different from his usual billowing black robes, this would have to be enough.
~o0o~
Ron Weasley thought of Hermione often, but did so more often on significant dates and occasions. Tomorrow one such occasion would be taking place; his best friend was going to marry his sister. Feeling rather maudlin, he couldn't help but wonder if she was still out there somewhere. Hermione Granger had been the girl for him from moment they met. Of course it took him six years to see it, but it was all too much to finally have her to only lose her. It was so unfair.
He was almost resentful of his best friend. It seemed like Harry Potter always came out on top. Ron knew that it wasn't true and that he was only having these thoughts in a fit of self-pity because he wished that it was own wedding he was attending tomorrow. Before going to sleep that night Ron decided that it was time to let go of Hermione. She was probably dead and they would not, in all likelihood, ever find her body. As much as it still hurt him, Ron had learned from Hermione to be practical. She would not want him to sulk or feel sorry for himself. Ronald Weasley was determined to meet a nice witch and settle down "good-bye Hermione" he said before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.
