Flotsam


Chapter Three

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two—hnngh.

Dammit.

The lack of magic was tolerable, but the lack of mobility? It was killing Hermione to have to sit around all day because her legs wouldn't move properly. Over the past week or so that she'd been staying at Severus Snape's beachside abode, she had taken to doing small exercises to try and get some control over her legs back. But try as she might, she could barely walk without the aid of crutches. With a frustrated grumble, she flopped backwards into the sand, staring up at the deep blue sky and slowly exhaling. Give it time, she told herself while simultaneously gritting her teeth. It's only been a week, and Madam Pomfrey said they'd be fine long before my magic comes back. Only a week.

She absently dug her fingers into the sand and closed her eyes as a gentle breeze blew over her, thinking back at the events that landed her in Hawaii in the first place and attempting to figure out what exactly had gone wrong. Her research was one of several studies going on regarding the space that portkeys and Apparition employ when transporting people from one point to another. She had been assigned to a team developing a potion that could delay a portkey user's exit from the transportation space—other teams were developing charms or magical artifacts to achieve the same thing. If she recalled correctly, before the accident and her subsequent arrival at the Pacific Ocean, she had been working with some highly volatile ingredients around a test portkey. Her colleague, Richard, had wandered into the room while she was working—against potion laboratory protocol, she might add—and accidentally bumped her while she was handling…something.

That was where her memory fell apart. Hermione couldn't remember what it was she'd been preparing to add to her potion, but whatever it was had touched something that it shouldn't have and likely caused the chain reaction that resulted in the test portkey sending her to Hawaii. If she could just remember what it was she had been handling, she might be able to explain what happened. Not that it would do any good, of course; her woes were from somehow getting forced through security wards, not from any ill effects of the potion ingredients.

Hopefully, Richard would be able to shed some light on what had happened. After some planning with Snape and McGonagall, they'd agreed that she would wait a week before contacting the Ministry so that Snape could arrange for his wizard friend in Honolulu to come and stand in for him. Just last night, in fact, she had sent a snowy egret to the Ministry with a letter—Snape had come back from the post office on Oahu with the long-necked white bird, muttering something about surprising the dunderheads at the Ministry—and early the next morning, a large eagle owl arrived bearing a letter from the Department of Mysteries. And, just like she thought, the Department had insisted on sending Richard over tomorrow to verify her story.

However, other than the frustrating lack of control she had over her legs, things had been nice on the island. For the most part, Snape left her to her own devices and didn't try to ask about her duties at work. He seemed to spend half the day holed up in the other room of his house, apparently working on potions, and spent the other half strolling down the beach and out of sight for hours at a time. Hermione expected he was making preparations for the Ministry representative's arrival, but his walk looked so leisurely that it was as though he wasn't leaving to do any work at all.

The other day, however, he had gone swimming right off the shore with his wand strapped to his leg and had dived for so long that Hermione wondered if he had been attacked by saltwater grindylows or something. When he finally resurfaced, Bubble-head Charm still in effect and humorously magnifying his head, she thought for a quick second that he was carrying a grindylow carcass and wondered what the hell he was going to do with it, before she realized it was actually a huge wad of glimmering blue seaweed. Not that she knew what the hell he was going to do with that either, but from the faint pain she felt as he walked by with it dragging in the sand behind him, it was probably some sort of magical plant used in potions…Unless, of course, he'd taken up seaweed-harvesting in his spare time as well.

"Napping again, are we?"

Hermione cracked an eye open and found Snape standing beside her, a pair of fresh coconuts in hand. "No, just thinking," she said, sitting up as he sat down and handed her a coconut with a hole cut out of it.

"How are the legs today? Is the pain gone?" he asked, passing her a straw before placing one in his own coconut.

"The pain is gone. It's still difficult to move them, though," said Hermione before taking a sip of coconut juice. She'd started growing fond of it—it was delicious and the novelty of drinking it straight from the coconut hadn't worn off yet.

"That's good." They sat in silence, each sipping at their juice and staring out into the ocean, before Snape turned to her again. "Richard's portkey is scheduled to arrive at nine tomorrow, correct?"

"Right. He'll have a Ministry healer with him as well."

"Good. Danny will be arriving at seven, then."

Danny Takahashi was the wizard from Honolulu that Snape knew. He came to visit a few days ago so that they could explain the situation, and he seemed like a nice enough man. It turned out that he ran a small business in Honolulu that supplied magical items to the more remote Hawaiian islands, and Snape was one of his potion suppliers. There was something a little off about him, though—he was difficult to read due to his constant smiles and penchant for sarcasm. As such, Hermione couldn't tell if he was messing with her when he told stories about alleged escapades he and Snape had trying to deliver potions to the tops of volcanoes or the like. Snape only laughed quietly along and didn't say anything either way when she asked about it.

"Do you really surf, Severus?" Hermione asked suddenly, inwardly shuddering—she was still getting that fresh sacrilegious-throatworm-dragged-out-of-mouth feeling whenever she said his name. He gave her a sidelong glance and a thin smile.

"Why do you ask?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

"It's just that I haven't yet seen a surfboard anywhere around here, so I was wondering if you were just leading me on about that," she said, giving him an expectant look.

"You doubt me, Hermione? I'm offended," Snape said, though his face looked neither offended nor hurt.

What a non-answer.

"When I surf, it is quite totally awesome, dude," he said solemnly as she took another sip from her coconut.

Hrrrrrkngghhhkkkfff.

The coconut juice went straight down her windpipe, throwing her into a fit of hacking coughs. "You—say—these things—right when I—drink something!" she managed to choke in between laughs. He gave a small laugh and turned back toward the ocean.

"I don't know what you mean," he said lightly, the amusement clear in his voice.

The spent the next few minutes in silence—well, relative silence, as Hermione was still hacking up the last remnants of juice from her lungs. But once she finished, she flopped onto her back in the sand and closed her eyes again, letting herself get lost in the sounds of the water. They did a lot of this over the past week when he wasn't brewing or walking: just sitting and listening to the ocean. She could tell he was always thinking hard about something—brooding, perhaps, over his past transgressions—but he didn't give off the dark, almost anguished vibe that he used to in the past.

"I'm glad that you're happier now."

She wasn't sure why she'd chosen that moment to say it and it seemed that Snape was equally as surprised, but it had been weighing in her mind ever since she found herself there and found him to be the well-adjusted person he seemed to be.

"I—well, thank you," Snape replied, slightly taken aback.

Finally, a victory.

Hermione: 1; Snape: a lot.

Well, it was a start.

She wanted to continue, to tell him how she had believed in him and his ties to Dumbledore when Harry and Ron were so adamantly against him, but quickly stopped herself. Perhaps that would be far too sappy and too far into Snape's personal matters. So, she contented herself with just relishing the fact that he was happy and that she'd surprised him for once. That was enough for now.

But, as well-adjusted the man seemed to be, the first indication that he was not doing quite as well as he let on had come the third night after Hermione regained consciousness. She had been having some trouble falling asleep—or rather, a lot of trouble, since she'd been lying in the dark for about four hours with no luck—and was startled by a sudden yell drifting through the window. It could have only been Snape, who had taken to sleeping outside in the hammock after allowing Hermione to stay in his bed.

"No…! Don't…!"

Hermione froze in the bed, a chill going down her spine.

Was Snape having nightmares?

"No more…don't ask me…he'll die…"

Another chill went down Hermione's spine. Was it Harry that he was dreaming about? Or was he dreaming of Dumbledore, resisting his orders to send Harry to his death? Or maybe some other poor soul he was trying to save from Death's grip?

She heard him yell again, and shortly after she could hear him breathing heavily—she could imagine him hunched over, hair drooping over his face. From her place on the bed, she couldn't see what he was doing, but heard the rustle of the trees as he got out of the hammock. After that, silence.

Hermione wanted to believe that Snape's nightmares were few and far between—after all, he seemed quite healthy and happy during the day—but two nights after the first time, she was roused by another yell in the middle of the night. This time, she managed to drag herself out of the bed to stand at the window and found him tossing and turning in the hammock—it was a wonder that he didn't fall out.

"Stop…! I can't…don't want…she's dead…!"

Hermione crouched and hid herself as far underneath the windowsill as she could when he screamed and bolted upright, breathing as though there wasn't enough oxygen in the world. He sat, hunched over his knees and his hair obscuring his face, unmoving except for the heaving of his chest and shoulders. It seemed that he sat there for hours, though it couldn't have been longer than a few minutes, before he slowly got out of the hammock—he got up with the air of a man with the world bearing down on him, a man who had weathered a thousand storms, a man on his last legs…

He trudged toward the beach, his feet dragging in the sand, and stopped where the water met the earth.

For one terrifying moment, Hermione thought he might throw himself into the oncoming waves.

But he simply stood there, staring out into the ocean.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled out his wand and jabbed it at the night sky. Hermione's eyes widened in shock when a white phoenix burst into the air, circling around Snape once and bathing him its white glow before soaring into the sky and dissipating.

If she had needed any further confirmation that this man had changed, this was it.

His Patronus was now a phoenix.

He had let go.

Snape sank down onto his knees in weary relief regardless of the water lapping at his legs. Had he been reminding himself—confirming that it all wasn't a lie? That he'd really and truly let go of the past? It was certainly fitting: a phoenix, born again from its own ashes, almost like his incredible escape from Death's clutches and his subsequent life in Hawaii. Hermione wondered how often Snape had stood at the water's edge, casting his Patronus into the sky as reassurance to himself that what he had was real.

With a small smile, Hermione dragged herself back to bed. She had no trouble falling asleep this time.


"Hermione, are you all right?"

She blinked a few times and found Snape regarding her with a curious mix of intrigue and worry. With a laugh, she sat up and frowned when she found a pile of sand sliding from her stomach to her skirt. "What the—" she said irately, brushing the sand from her lap.

"You never struck me as a daydreamer," Snape said lazily, an amused smile on his face. "Didn't even flinch."

Hermione bristled, glaring at him. "You put the sand on me?"

"Like I said, didn't even flinch."

She couldn't think of a suitable retort, so she settled for dumping a fistful of sand onto his leg.

"You should choose your battles more carefully, Hermione," said Snape, giving her a sidelong glance. "Besides, is that any way to treat a man who has brought you a gift?"

"What, the coconut?"

He answered by clipping a frond of brown kelp to the waist of her skirt. It seemed to cling to her leg like plastic wrap on a dry day, and she felt a faint twinge on her leg where it touched—almost like an itch. She looked from the kelp frond to his face, which was a model utmost seriousness.

"You brought me seaweed?" she asked flatly, resisting the urge to throw sand at his face.

"Not just any seaweed. Pyrifera repellentis."

Pyrifera repellentis? Or, more commonly, magic-phobic kelp. She'd read about it once in a Herbology book: it was a type of magical kelp that grew off the coasts of the eastern Pacific Ocean, and got its namesake because of the way it was repelled by magic and attracted to non-magic, such as Muggles' legs. It looked just like its non-magical counterpart, Macrocystis pyrifera, and was likely a source of irritation for many beach-going Muggles getting tangled in it as they swam along the shore. But as far as she knew, it wasn't native to the waters around Hawaii.

"Thanks…I think…but where did you get it? I didn't think I grew around here," said Hermione, holding the frond in her hand and frowning when it clung to her fingers.

"It doesn't, but I persuaded Danny to acquire some from California for me," Snape said. "I thought it would help us figure out when your magic starts returning."

That certainly was a clever idea. The kelp would start pulling away from her once her magic started to recover—she took care to not think IF my magic recovers—and would perhaps signal when she could start using simple charms again. She looked to him and attempted her best cheeky smile. "It's quite fashionable, if I do say so myself," she said, smoothing it against her skirt. "You have good taste, Severus Snape."

He laughed and got to his feet. "Now you're getting it, Hermione Granger," he said, patting her shoulder as he headed for the house. "I'm going to start on dinner. See to it that you drag yourself to the house within the hour."

Hermione watched as he left, wondering what it was he thought she was "getting."


"Good moooorning!"

Hermione looked up from the newspaper she was reading and found Danny waving at her from the living room window. "Good morning, Danny. The front door is unlocked," she called, gesturing toward the door. He gave her a cheery nod and, within moments, was pulling up a chair across from her at the small dining table.

"So how are you feeling today, Hermione?" said Danny, flashing her a toothy smile. The man smiled a bit too much for her—she couldn't help but fear that he might be mentally unhinged or something.

"I'm well, thank you," she replied, putting her newspaper down. "Are you ready for later?"

"Totally ready. Severus gave me a vial of Veritaserum antidote the other day, just in case. Do you think this Ministry guy is gonna use it?"

"It's likely they will ask you to take it. Because of the nature of my job, they'll want to be doubly sure that you didn't extort state secrets from me," she said, frowning. Danny laughed and seemed to shrug it off with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

"State secrets, huh? Not sure what I'd do with them even if I had them," he said with a laugh, and Hermione was struck with an inexplicable urge to roll her eyes. "So how's that seaweed working out for you? Severus practically begged me to go find some when I went to California. I gotta say that it wasn't easy to get it without the Nons noticing."

The first time they met, when Snape had explained the situation to Danny, it had taken Hermione a few minutes to get used to the terminology Danny had been using. He had been going on about having family on his father's side that were "Nons," and it wasn't until Snape had carefully told him that Hermione had Non parents that she realized he was talking about Muggles, or "non"-magical people. She'd been mildly surprised that they weren't called Muggles in the US, but ended up mentally berating herself for assuming that British terms would be used in Hawaii. Now that she thought about it, "Muggle" did seem like a distinctly British word.

"Please, Danny. I do not beg."

Hermione turned to find Snape standing behind them in the hallway, arms crossed and an irritated frown on his face. "That's not how I remember it, buddy," Danny said, smirking. "What happened to Mr. 'Please, I'll be forever indebted—'"

"I was merely stroking your ego to get you to do something for me," Snape interrupted, a smirk appearing on his face as well. "I know full well that you're not as generous as you let those poor islanders think."

"This guy's the king of manipulation, Hermione. Must be the accent or something," Danny said, looking a tad sullen. Hermione stared at Danny as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; if only he knew how right he was.

"It has nothing to do with my accent," said Snape, looking perfectly untroubled and taking a seat in the wicker armchair. "I have the voice of an angel."

Hermione choked on her glass of orange juice.

God dammit.

"Voice of an angel my ass," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "How do you live with this guy, Hermione? I'd have cursed him to pieces by now."

Hermione watched in fascination as the two men continued in this manner for the next hour or so, insults flowing from their mouths as the both of them had some coffee and toast. She wondered if this was how Snape kept his sarcasm muscles up to snuff, insulting his friend like that. It seemed like a bizarre relationship to be sure, but neither Snape nor Danny seemed the least bit bothered by even the most scathing slurs directed at each other. It put a rather warm feeling in the pit of her stomach to see them go at it; it was nice to see that Snape was such good friends with Danny that they could do this without killing each other.

When it was nearly fifteen minutes to nine, Snape helped Hermione outside and took his leave, saying only that "I'll be watching." She expected he would be lounging around somewhere nearby with a Disillusionment Charm concealing him, perhaps with a coconut in hand as he watched the Ministry dunderheads interrogate her.

It didn't take long for Richard to arrive at Snape's house, looking absolutely miserable wearing a stuffy Muggle suit in the humid Hawaiian weather. He was accompanied by the person Hermione presumed was the Ministry-approved healer, a small Vietnamese woman who had the foresight to wear a light dress instead of more formal and suffocating clothes.

"Ah, good morning, Hermione. I—I hope you're well," said Richard nervously, pulling at his collar as sweat beaded on his forehead. To be honest, Hermione wasn't a fan of Richard Thompson—he was an awkward and clumsy man, and if he wasn't so incredibly knowledgeable about transportation magic, she was sure he'd have no business being an Unspeakable. He was a nice person, however, which was why they were on first-name terms—it's just that his awkwardness and clumsiness did get tiresome after a while.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you," she replied stiffly, nodding to him. Richard shuffled a bit on the porch, quite obviously uncomfortable with either himself or her cold tone. After a moment, he looked to Danny and held out his hand after quickly wiping it against his trousers.

"Er, you're Danny Takahashi, I presume? I'm Thompson—Richard Thompson."

Danny leapt to his feet and took Richard's hand, shaking it warmly. "Nice to meet you, Richard. I'm glad you made it out here okay," he said sweetly, which had the lovely effect of visibly relaxing Richard. If only he could have heard the insults spewing out of Danny's mouth just an hour before.

"This is Healer Tuyet Phuong," Richard said, and Healer Phuong stepped forward to offer her hand to Hermione and Danny. "She works at St. Mungo's and will be examining you today."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Granger, Mr. Takahashi," Phuong said. In stark contrast to Richard's nervous dithering, the healer was very businesslike and purposeful. "If you don't mind, let's get the examination out of the way so that you and Mr. Thompson have time to discuss your affairs before our portkey leaves."

Hermione didn't protest as Healer Phuong quickly and methodically went through all the same tests that Madam Pomfrey, though this time the wand-poking wasn't as uncomfortable. The moment Hermione had been dreading, however, was when Phuong handed her the same clear ball that Pomfrey had, and she couldn't help but give Danny an apprehensive glance as Phuong pressed her wand tip against the ball. Without even a word of warning, the ball began growing warm much faster than Pomfrey had done it, and before Hermione knew it, she was whimpering in pain, clutching at her chest as her vision quickly began fading into black.

"Stop it, stop it! You're hurting her!"

The next thing Hermione knew, she found Danny holding her protectively, glaring at Phuong and his hand clutching the one she'd been using to hold the glass ball—which was now discarded on the floor. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded as Phuong Summoned the glass ball into her hand, sending a terrifying ripple of pain through Hermione's body.

"Her story checks out, Mr. Thompson. I shall meet you at the portkey site," said Phuong, turning toward Richard and ignoring Danny completely. She glanced toward Hermione, a brief, apologetic look flashing across her face. "Forgive me, Ms. Granger. Ministry orders." And with that, she quickly took her leave.

"Right…right," Richard said quietly. "Er…do you mind if I take a seat, Mr. Takahashi?"

"Go for it," said Danny coldly. Hermione gave Danny a gentle push to let him know that he could stop holding her now thank you very much, and he got to his feet and stood behind her, wand menacingly tapping against his bicep as he fixed Richard with an icy glare.

"S-so, Hermione. I'm just here to verify that you're alive and well," said Richard timidly. "And to make sure that none of the Department's intelligence has been compromised."

"I see," Hermione said. The Department's intelligence was what it really was about—considering Healer Phuong's behavior, all this about her health and wellbeing was really just a guise, probably to make themselves seem more compassionate and humane.

"I have a small amount of Veritaserum that I'd like Mr. Takahashi to—to take. I can show you the necessary clearance forms the Ministry obtained from the US Department of Magical Affairs," Richard said quickly before either Danny or Hermione could protest. "It will only take a few minutes. I promise."

It was at this time that Hermione was infinitely grateful that the Department had sent Richard to check on her and not anyone else. The time he spent clumsily rummaging around in his briefcase for the clearance forms was just enough to allow Danny to surreptitiously down his vial of Veritaserum antidote. When Richard finally found the clearance form with the official US Department of Magical Affairs seal on it, he set it on the table and put the small Veritaserum vial in a circle at the center of the parchment. The circle glowed a brilliant blue and a small box underneath the circle showed the word "AUTHORIZED" in bold red letters.

Danny made a big show of looking suspicious of the single drop of Veritaserum that Richard administered into his mouth, and Hermione was quite impressed with how Danny managed to act as though he was under the effects of the potion. He answered each of Richard's questions with perfect monotone inflection just as they had practiced with Snape, and by the end of it, Richard had no qualms believing that Danny was the one who had found her and taken care of her. Indeed, Richard even revealed that the Department of Mysteries had done a background check on him, just like she and Snape expected and planned for—the latter forging official documents and Confunding relevant islanders to think that Danny had lived on the island for years. It was quite impressive what Snape had accomplished in only a week.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Takahashi. The effects should wear off in a few minutes," Richard said once they'd finished. Danny just stared blankly at him, though Hermione could've sworn that she saw his body relax in relief even if his face didn't show it.

"Richard, I wanted to ask you a question," Hermione said as Richard was packing up the forms. "Do you remember what I was handling before the accident? My memory from the incident is a bit hazy." Richard stopped for a moment to think, stroking his chin thoughtfully, before giving her a nervous smile.

"If I recall correctly, the smell in the lab suggested sliced clearbell roots," said Richard. "Unfortunately, the test portkey sucked up all the materials at your workstation, so the only way we could verify what had been there was from your logs for the day."

Clearbell roots, huh? It made sense, then, that the portkey might have reacted how it did—freshly sliced clearbell roots were highly reactive and considering the other highly reactive materials she was working with that day, it was no wonder the chain reaction occurred.

"Listen, I've got to go, Hermione," said Richard, getting to his feet. "I'm—I'm really sorry about what happened. I hope you get well soon." He looked so sad and apologetic that Hermione thought his face might melt off his head.

"You do understand the terms of this visit, correct?" Hermione asked before he could turn to leave. "You are not to disclose this location to anybody but the Department, or Danny will get the US authorities involved."

Richard shuffled nervously and nodded. "Give me a little credit as an Unspeakable, Hermione," he said, laughing weakly. "I will not speak of it."

With that, Richard finally took his leave, trudging off and leaving Danny and Hermione in silence. Hermione felt a dull, throbbing pain in her chest again and would have attributed it to the residual effects of the examination had Snape not suddenly appeared behind the palm trees with his wand out, a finger on his lips to silence her and Danny. He crept toward the corner of the porch and seemed to be watching Richard leave, and the five minutes he stood there felt like hours as the pain in Hermione's chest refused to dissipate. When he finally turned from the corner, he raised his wand in the air and muttered something, a violet ball of light spiraling into the air from his wand before dissipating above the house. Hermione groaned as the light left Snape's wand, a surge of pain spreading through her before the pain disappeared completely.

"The fool put an eavesdropping spell on the area," Snape said irritably as Hermione and Danny gave him curious looks. "I've removed it. Does that feel better?"

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, managing a smile as she massaged her chest.

"So did I do good, Severus?" Danny asked, grinning. "That was fun. Never had to fool a government agent before."

"I think you could even be a spy. You're Magical Intelligence Agency material," said Snape sarcastically as he took a seat in the chair Richard had previously occupied. Hermione laughed—that was probably as close to a compliment that Danny was going to get.

"Think so? I should just shut down my business and join up," he laughed, leaning against the porch's railing as he twirled his wand in his fingers.

"Good riddance, then. Hermione and I won't have to suffer through your presence anymore," Snape said, smirking.

"Yeah, whatever. Just remember that you owe me one after this, Severus. I have a few things I—"

Hermione eyes widened in horror as Snape erupted into a fit of coughs, spraying flecks of blood over the porch's floorboards before he could clamp a hand to his mouth. He slid out of the chair and dropped to his knees, coughing violently as blood trickled from between his fingers.

"Severus? Severus!"


A/N: Hmm...this ending's kinda cliffhanger-y, isn't it? Haha. Anywho, I've never written this fast before...I'm hoping my writing doesn't suffer because of it. Normally, I spend my time drawing, so it feels really good to exercise these writing muscles.

You know, you guys might like this. I drew it a couple years ago, and it's about Snape. You'll have to get rid of the spaces, though. I don't understand why this site still hates URLs after all these years. http: / / murirark. deviantart. com/ art/ Forgiveness-122039117

Thanks again for the lovely comments!