Chapter 2: The Unwelcome Visitor
"Granger!" Severus wasn't sure if he actually said the name aloud, or if it merely exploded inside his head and reverberated there.
Hermione Granger's eyes widened in shocked recognition. "Professor Snape?"
A hot rage coursed instantly through Snape's veins. He'd managed quite well for years with nothing - and no one - from Hogwarts to disturb his equilibrium, and the sight of Hermione Granger brought with it a torrent of unwelcome memories.
"I don't know what the hell you want with me, Granger, and I'm damned if I care. Fly her out of here, Brady," he snarled. "Now!"
With that, Severus turned on his heel and strode back up the path to the cabin, leaving Brady Lawford staring in astonishment. "You know Sebastian?" he asked his passenger.
Hermione wrenched her eyes back to the pilot just as the noise of the cabin door slamming shut echoed across the lake and back again. "That's the man you call Sebastian Snow?"
"Yeah. So he changed his name or something? I guess I'm not surprised. I knew that he'd left some sort of unpleasantness behind." Brady looked utterly bewildered at this turn of events. "What did you call him? Professor Somebody?"
"Professor Snape. Severus Snape. He was one of my teachers at school." Hermione wondered briefly if the name change was part of the terms of Snape's banishment from Britain, or if he'd come up with that on his own.
"He said he used to teach chemistry."
It was the usual way a wizard described an occupation in Potions to a Muggle. Of course, there was always the choice of 'apothecary' or 'pharmacist', but 'apothecary' was a bit outdated, and the term 'pharmacist' could bring up all sorts of inquiries about Muggle medications. It was also proof that Lawford knew nothing of Snape's wizarding status.
Hermione's mind raced back to the conversation she'd had with Lawford on the flight up from Thunder Bay. "Then that's the man you rescued? The one who tried to kill himself?"
"Right."
Wouldn't Harry and Ron have had a field day with this? The greasy git, trying to do himself in? As always, Hermione pushed thoughts of Ron immediately out of her head, choosing to dwell on how Harry would have reacted. Minerva McGonagall's startling revelations during Snape's trial had made not one whit of difference to Harry Potter; as far as he was concerned, Snape remained the most detestable creature on earth next to Voldemort, binding agreements with Albus Dumbledore be damned. Hermione forced her attention back to the reason she was here.
"This shouldn't take very long, Mr. Lawford."
Brady chuckled mirthlessly. "You're right about that. Judging by that reception, you'll be lucky if Sebastian says five words to you. I have to say, I haven't seen him act like this for years. Usually he's quite pleasant. He must really dislike you."
That was putting it mildly. And Severus Snape, being described as pleasant? It was inconceivable. Hermione smoothed out her clothes and picked up the briefcase she'd deposited on the dock. "Where's the door to the place? Around the far side?"
"Yeah. What you see there under the deck is just the cellar Sebastian uses for his chemistry experiments." Lawford waved a hand toward a rough-hewn door in the stone wall facing them.
Hermione shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other, then started up the path around the side of the cabin, Brady trailing along behind her.
"Suppose he doesn't let me in?" she wanted to know.
Lawford snorted with laughter. "This is my house, missy. He'll let you in if I say so."
When they reached the small front stoop, Hermione raised a hand to knock, but Lawford grunted disapproval and pushed her aside. He turned the knob, opened the door, then waved her in ahead of him.
They were in the kitchen. Ahead and to the left was a dining table, strewn with pictureless magazines - Potions Journals, Hermione guessed immediately - and surrounded by worn ladder-back chairs. Beyond that lay a large living area with wood-burning stove and a wall of windows facing the lake. In the hands of the right decorator, Hermione thought, it could have been one of those vacation cabins she'd seen in Muggle magazines. She placed her briefcase on the table and waited.
"Sebastian?" Brady walked toward the stairs opposite the dining area, peering up into what was apparently a loft. "I don't know what your problem is, but this lady needs to talk to you. Government business."
"Go to hell." Snape's voice floated from above.
"She says it'll only take a few minutes," Brady continued.
"I don't have a few minutes."
"The hell you don't. Come down here and talk to her so I can get back in the air again. There's a cold front coming in."
There was silence. Lawford grimaced in Hermione's direction, then stared back up toward the loft. "Look, Snow, or Snipe, or whatever your name is, this is my house. If you want to continue living here, you'll get down here this minute!"
There was an uttered oath, then more silence. Finally, Hermione heard Snape's footsteps on the stairs and Lawford moved out of the way.
"Now then," Brady said, "you two have your little talk and I'll get the plane ready to go."
"You do that," a sullen Snape said, staring down Hermione Granger with a look of utter contempt. "The lady won't be staying long."
Lawford gave his tenant a puzzled, sideways glance before heading back out of the cabin. Hermione watched him go.
"Thank you, Mr. Lawford." She turned to face Snape, painfully aware of the nearly-black eyes boring holes into her.
The man was every bit as intimidating as he'd been during her time at Hogwarts, Hermione thought. His once-black hair was liberally streaked with gray at the temples and tied back in a longish ponytail, and the Severus Snape who was always so impeccably dressed in his wizarding robes now wore a black knit shirt and faded denim jeans. They looked oddly becoming on him, although from the way the clothes hung, Hermione suspected that he was even thinner than he'd been fifteen years ago.
"Please, sit down," she said, indicating the dining table.
"You're inviting me to sit at my own table?" Snape snapped.
"We could conduct this interview standing, Professor Snape, but it might be more comfortable if we were seated. Besides, I believe it's Mr. Lawford's table, not yours."
Severus didn't answer. He yanked a chair toward him viciously and sat, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him. Hermione took a seat also, and recalled that the last time she'd sat this close to Severus Snape, he'd been peering over her shoulder at a DADA essay.
One day during sixth year, when Ron was too busy acting the idiot with Lavender Brown to notice her, Hermione overheard several fourth years discussing how sexy they found Professor Snape to be. She'd immediately turned up her nose at the thought, but the notion somehow managed to lodge itself in her brain. She found herself observing Snape more closely, and saw that teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts had brought out the passion in the man. He loved the subject he taught, and it showed. Because of that, it was easier to overlook his sarcastic, rude nature. Before long Hermione was nursing her own little crush on Severus Snape.
Then, just before Ron came to his senses, Snape had hovered behind her in class one day. Hermione couldn't help but fancy that he was just as interested in catching a whiff of her perfume as poring over her essay, looking for flaws. To her great disappointment, there were no more displays of any interest in her the rest of that week or the next, and Hermione finally decided that her initial reaction to the idea of Snape being sexy was correct. Having a crush on that particular man was a lost cause, not to mention stupid and hopeless. She'd never told anyone about it, hadn't really even thought about it - until now.
Sitting practically knee to knee with Severus Snape, alone in a wilderness cabin, Hermione thought how her sixteen-year-old self would have killed to be in this position. She could imagine herself looking earnestly into those black eyes and saying I can help you, Severus. I know you're hurting, and I can help you...
She bit back a bitter laugh at the romantic idiocy of youth, turned it into a cough instead, and fumbled around in the briefcase until she found the correct papers.
"I am currently employed by the Canadian Wizarding Patent Office. According to my information, Professor, -"
"Don't call me that!"
"Very well," she retorted, "what do you want me to call you? Severus Snape or Sebastian Snow?"
"According to Brady Lawford, I'm Sebastian Snow. Legally, I'm still Severus Snape. However," Snape said in tones that dripped ice, "I'd prefer you not address me at all."
The voice was as silky, as nasty, as Hermione remembered, and the dark eyes glittered with an all too-familiar malice. For a moment, she was eleven years old and sitting in the Hogwarts Potions classroom, watching Snape belittle Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Time had done nothing to diminish Severus Snape's personality, Hermione thought. If Lawford thought Snape was a changed person, then he was as mental as Snape himself.
"Let's get this over with, shall we, Mister Snape? According to my information, an Insect Repelling Potion was dispensed to a Muggle last summer. Eventually, a sample found its way earlier this year to a wizard, who recognized it as having magical properties. I traced it back to Mr. Lawford, who tells me that you created that potion."
A smirk spread across Snape's face. "Of course I created it, Granger. If you spent much time up here, you'd know that the blackflies will eat you alive in the summer."
"Wizarding potions cannot be sold to Muggles," Hermione pointed out.
"I know that. Do you think I've lost my mind?"
"Then why did you sell -"
"I didn't sell anything, you stupid girl. I created it for myself. Lawford used it one time and was so impressed at its efficacy, he asked me to make some for him. He flies wealthy clients to various fishing resorts around here, and one time, one of them was in dire need of an insect repellant. Lawford merely passed it on."
"And eventually, it ended up in the possession of a wizard, who recognized it for what it was," Hermione said. "Wizarding potions cannot be sold to or issued -"
"- to Muggles with intent to leave said potions in their possession. Don't presume to quote the law to me, Granger."
"It's one thing to share your potion with a Mr. Lawford. Letting him walk away with it and share it with others is reckless behavior which endangers the general population."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "It's an Insect Repelling Potion, Granger. It's perfectly harmless to any Muggle who might get his hands on it. In fact, I'd say it wouldn't hurt a fly, but that would negate the point, now wouldn't it?"
"Legally, you have two choices." Hermione searched through her papers and found an official looking form. "You may apply for a patent for your potion which, if your formula is approved by the Committee on Experimental Substances, means you are then free to sell it on the open market. If you refuse, you'll be served with an injunction to cease and desist production for any use other than personal application."
There was no immediate response. Hermione added simply, "It's the law, Prof - Mr. Snape."
"You really think I give a damn?" Snape hissed in lethal tones. "For your information, I don't intend to stop making the potion, I don't care how many laws and forms you wave under my nose. Brady Lawford is my landlord, and preparing the potion for his clients is a small way of repaying him for allowing me to stay here."
Hermione stared at him, recognition slowly dawning. "You're still making it for him?"
Snape rose from his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Ten points to the know-it-all from Gryffindor. So bright... I knew there was a reason Minerva always held you in such high regard. Now if you don't mind, Granger, I do need to get downstairs to my lab. Mr. Lawford will be more than delighted to fly you out of here. Do give my regards to Potter and Weasley, won't you?"
Hermione stayed stubbornly put in her seat. "I'm afraid you'll need to sign either the consent or the waiver before I can -"
Severus glared holes right through her. "Get this straight, because I refuse to repeat myself: I will not share my formula with anyone, I will not sign some silly forms, and I will continue to prepare my Insect Repelling Potion for Brady Lawford, who can use it as he sees fit. Have I made myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Hermione said coldly. She climbed to her feet, returned her papers to the briefcase, and snapped it shut. "As always, it's a pleasure to find you so cooperative, Professor Snape. I'm sure you'll be hearing from my superiors."
Snape watched her march to the door. Something, suddenly, prodded his brain into action.
"Tell me, Granger," he drawled, "what would Minerva's wunderkind be doing lost in the midst of the Canadian Wizarding Patent Office? Shouldn't you have been named Minister of Magic in Britain by now? Or at the very least, be in charge of establishing some new order of social justice in British wizarding society?"
Hermione stopped short, then turned back to face Snape, eyes flashing. "Our conversation is over. And for your information, the name's not Granger. It's Weasley!"
She meant to fling open the screen door and march out of the cabin with her nose in the air, but Brady Lawford was standing on the porch, blocking her way.
"We're leaving, Mr. Lawford!" she snapped.
"Yes, ma'am." Brady backed out of her way at once, looking from Hermione to Snape and back again. He didn't fancy tangling with either one of these people right now. The woman sounded ready to spit nails, and Sebastian Snow looked positively murderous. It was likely to be a very long flight back to Thunder Bay.
Hermione let the screen door slam shut behind her with a bang. Severus could hear the crunch of footsteps as she and Lawford walked the gravel path back to the boat dock. Furious at Fate for dropping this particular woman in his way once more, he stormed past the stairs and into the cabin's lone bedroom, slamming that door closed in belated response.
God. Hermione Granger. No, Hermione Weasley.
Had the cabin and its contents belonged to him, Snape would have commenced throwing anything breakable he could find. Instead, he dropped onto the bed and pressed his fingers against his eyes until brilliant colors sprouted out of the darkness.
He was quite content with no one from the past to disturb his solitude. Why now? Why her?
So she had married the idiot Weasley after all, had she? No surprise there, Severus thought. It was merely proof of her bad taste and poor choices. And why, in the name of all that was holy, was she squandering her unimaginable talents in some lumbering, inept bureaucracy? At Hogwarts, Snape had never once complimented Hermione, except in a backhanded sort of way. He hadn't felt the need; there were already too many teachers fawning over her, and he had no intentions of joining the Granger Adoration League.
More than once, he wished that she'd been Sorted into Slytherin. Under his tutelage and with the right connections, Hermione Granger would have been an unstoppable force in the wizarding world.
Sad to see her sink to this level...
He wondered vaguely what Weasley was doing for a living. Playing Quidditch, no doubt. Couldn't make it on one of the teams in Britain, or was he bounced because of age? That was it, Severus decided smugly. One of the Canadian teams was probably his only hope to continue playing, and he'd dragged Hermione along half a world away.
As for the ridiculous business of the insect repellent... He had told Brady not to pass it along to anyone else, and the fool had done it anyway. But it had turned out well; Lawford's clients raved about the potion, and Severus was more than happy to turn out what was, in truth, a piddling amount for him. The last thing Snape wanted just now was another wizarding government horning its way into his affairs. Was it so difficult to just be left alone?
He himself to breathe slowly, deeply, willing the anger to leave. It had been years since he'd last experienced any spell of vitriol to compare to this, and he didn't like it one bit. Lying on the bed, Snape could still feel his pulse pounding and the adrenaline surging, a painful reminder of the past and of how much of his life had been wasted on self-destructive behavior.
By the time the sound of the float plane's engine had faded into the distance, Snape was nearly calm. He forced himself to go to the cellar and resume his work.