Chapter Four – Searching for Answers

He awoke, staring at very familiar rafters—his attic. The light from the streetlamps illuminated the room enough to see objects. He sighed, relieved that he had ended up where he intended to go… but when? He started to take in his surroundings; he was on… a sofa? There was no such piece of furniture in his attic. Frantically, he arose, looking around the room. Furniture he did not recognize, a decided lack of cobwebs… oh. He remembered returning, remembered an angry young woman forcing her way into his mind and crying on his floor—her floor; this wasn't his house any longer.

He still did not know what year it was or where his wand was. Well, at least he could figure out one of those things relatively easily. He made to stand in search of a newspaper or a newly published book that would tell him the date. He swung his legs over, feet touching the floor.

He couldn't move.

Arse firmly stuck to the sofa, he flailed and wrenched his body, attempting to free himself.

He couldn't.

Irate, he lay back, feet still touching the floor. The woman was serious about keeping him here. Well, lady, exactly what would you have me do if I, say, need to use the facilities? I would hate to soil your furniture. He was annoyed, both by his situation and by the fact that his attic did look nice. He kicked his feet to the sides, preparing to sit up again, and his feet hit an object. He sat up—a bucket. Of course she thought ahead to the loo issue. He sighed. She was not trying to torture him… She was just trying to keep him here. Because of the war, she said. What war?

He heard yelling from downstairs, muffled through walls and floors, and then more screaming.

He began to grow concerned. What if this woman really was who she said she was: a veteran of the war on the side of Light? The Dark Lord lost? But how? Had he truly failed in his mission? If his master lost, then why was his future self living in Hogsmeade rather than rotting in Azkaban? Was he under house arrest there?

Or what if his current mission had been successful, but something else had kept them from winning? What if this entire bloody trip was for nothing?

Or what if they had won… What if she was lying about being a war hero? But then, why would a person from the other side be living in his house?

No, they had lost somehow. But when? When is now?

Without warning, blood began pouring from his nose. Not the trickle of an impending nosebleed, but actual hemorrhaging.

And he could not move.

Roaring, he began grabbing anything he could reach, hoping to make enough noise to bring her back. He seized the bucket, throwing it against the portion of the floor that housed the attic stairs. Finding the pillow, he ripped the case from it and held the sham to his nose, trying to calm his breathing and blood pressure in hopes of slowing the bleeding. The white cloth quickly turned crimson.

He looked for more projectiles: books and a lamp. He snatched the lamp from the table and heaved it at the floor, enjoying watching it shatter into pieces.

He heard thumping from below him. She must be running full tilt towards the attic stairs. He watched the stairs lower and groaned at the sound of metal squeaking on metal. He heard her curse as the bucket and shards of lamp rained down on her head. He grinned.

She appeared at the top of the stairs, hair floating wildly, bathrobe sliding off one shoulder, wand at the ready. He must have looked pretty bad, for upon seeing his face, her wand hand began shaking uncontrollably, and her face went as pale as the pillowcase he held to his face.

"Damn it, woman, I'm bleeding out here. I could really use some help before I die."

She flinched hard at his words but took charge of the situation, rushing to his side.

"Attempt to harm me in any way, Snape, and I swear I'll cast one of your own curses on you so fast you'll think this bloody nose is just a skinned knee."

Sectumsempra—How the hell does she know about that?

She cast a quick diagnostic spell on him. He felt a warm sensation in his cheek.

"You have a ruptured blood vessel deep within your sinus cavity, Snape. I'm sorry, but this going to sting pretty badly."

He nodded and held the cloth to his face even tighter, just in case. She pressed her wand into his cheek and murmured a Cauterizing Spell. He clenched his jaw, the tendons of his neck becoming even more prominent. After five seconds, she pulled her wand away and quickly retreated from the bed.

"I'm not going to hurt you! Why are you so skittish around me?" He dabbed at his nose with his fingers, assuring himself the bleeding had stopped. She flicked her wand and banished the gory pillowcase to the bathroom sink.

"Because, sir, I know exactly who you are at this very moment in your life, and you would hurt me if it served your purposes."

He glared at her. She was right.

"Miss Granger, at this very moment, I have lost at least a pint of blood in a freak nosebleed, something I never get. I am weak, I am concerned about my own well-being, and I am certainly not going to harm you—unless you give me damned good reason to. I have already destroyed any of the projectiles I could have thrown at you, and as of right now, I cannot even leave this bloody, pardon the pun, sofa. So, no, Miss Granger, at this very moment, I am simply a weak man, the first man ever to go through forward time travel, and all I want is a pillowcase not covered in blood that I can put back on this pillow so I can sleep until my head no longer hurts."

She hesitated. "What do you mean, you're the first? Voldemort—"

He flinched at her use of the name.

"—sent you forward without any regard for what this might do to you?"

"Yes. He has a need, and I am fulfilling it. And now, as you have not answered any of my pertinent questions, I am going to sleep."

"What in the world are you talking about, Snape? You asked when you moved from here; I told you. You asked where you reside now; I told you. What haven't I answered?"

He growled, "What year is it?"

"I can't tell you that…"

"Then, my dear woman, I must bid you goodnight." He lay back and rolled to his side, facing away from her.

"You're worried that this nosebleed is a sign that your trip harmed you, aren't you?"

He ignored her; he was too tired to berate her.

He heard her moving around the room, and out of nowhere, a pillowcase landed on the bed and wrapped itself around the pillow. He seized the pillow, punching it a few times before petulantly throwing his head onto it. Moving to the staircase, she Summoned a Blood-Replenishing Potion and a Headache Potion and then approached him. She knelt, holding them out to him.

"Before you ask if I am trying to poison you, tell me why in the world would I keep fake potions in my home? Please just take them."

Opening his eyes, he ascertained that the potions she proffered looked appropriate. He took them from her, drinking them quickly. He gagged at the taste of the Blood-Replenishing Potion.

"I know this is probably a lot for a hostage to ask, but might I have a glass of water? The taste of copper in my mouth is not terribly pleasant."

"Of course, Mr. Snape." She Summoned the glass of water from her bedside table. Placing it in his hand, she rose slowly, Summoning the bucket. She placed it by his bedside before retiring to her bed.

He attempted to stay awake, hoping to make some sense of everything that had happened that night. He only managed a few moments before his body took over, and he fell into a deep sleep.

hr

She watched him as he slowly awoke, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I am sorry for any unkind words we had last night, Mr. Snape," she began abruptly. "I have to go to work now; I should be back in the early evening. I have made you breakfast; I hope it is to your satisfaction. I have lifted the spell from the sofa, so you are free to move about the attic—the attic only. I have removed any implements you may use to leave; do not search for Floo powder, your wand, or your Time-Turner because they are not here.

"I have cast my strongest wards on every exit from this level; you will not be able to leave. Do not try. I will know. Please feel free to use any of the amenities and to peruse any book you wish—they all are from your time, and after all," she said, smiling, "most of them are yours.

"I have removed any object that would tell you what year this is, so please do not ransack my house. You will find nothing of use to you. Furthermore, I have removed anything that may be used as a weapon. Do not try to ambush me when I return home. I have left you towels in the bathroom and clothing on the sofa; please make yourself as comfortable as possible. You will find sandwiches prepared in the basket on the coffee table. I cast a stasis charm over them, so they should remain fresh. Do you have any questions?"

He glared at her, annoyed by her obviously rehearsed speech. "Just one. When will you let me go?"

She smiled. "As soon as I figure out what caused that nosebleed. I need to ensure that your return trip doesn't cause a brain hemorrhage so bad that it kills you. We couldn't have that, now, could we?"

She placed the tray in his lap and turned to leave. At the entrance to the attic, she turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Muffliato! Silencio!" She descended the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, she lifted the door back into place, casting every ward she knew on the entrance, finally casting an Imperturbable Charm. If it worked for Molly Weasley during all of those Order meetings, then hopefully it would work for her.

She made her way to the foyer, preparing to open the museum for the day. She hoped that she would find her home, and its occupant, in the same condition that she left it.

The lunch hour quickly approached, and she shooed the guests out of the museum. Hopefully, her two-hour break would give her enough time to try to find answers to her questions.

She stepped outside, casting wards on the entire house to keep him from leaving in the event that he actually managed to make it out of the attic. Walking to the alley, she looked around to ensure no one was there and Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

The castle was looking better than it had in months. Most of the damage had been fixed, and the grass was actually growing back properly on the grounds. Professor Sprout should be proud.

She walked through the gates and up the path to the main doors. They opened for her, and she entered hesitantly. She had not returned since the Final Battle.

She reached the Headmistress' office and whispered the master password for the gargoyle, known to few and one of the many "perks" of being a member of the Golden Trio. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was nice to be able to cut through the red tape of bureaucratic nonsense, but how did no one else see how huge of a security problem giving out such information was?

She reached the top of the stairs and knocked on the main door to the office. She heard the Headmistress beckon her to enter, and she, as calmly as possible, opened the door.

"Hermione Granger! What are you doing here? Is something the matter?"

Hermione sighed. She needed to make a point of visiting more often if Headmistress McGonagall automatically assumed something was wrong just because she showed up.

"No, nothing at all. I just wanted to visit!"

The headmistress looked at her, shocked, but quickly recovered. "Do come in. You've been away far too long."

"I know, Headmistress. I am sorry about that…"

Hermione sat, fidgeting. Snape was there in his portrait, staring at her; his dark eyes felt as if they were boring holes into her skull. She opened her mouth to speak to him but quickly closed it. He gave her a long-suffering look before disappearing to one of his other portraits.

The Headmistress summoned a house-elf, who came with a tray of tea items and placed it on a low table between the two of them before serving Hermione a cup.

"So, my dear, how has everything been at the museum?" The Headmistress' tone implied she was not happy with Hermione's career position, but she did not elaborate.

"Wonderful, actually. I have been able to do a lot of research and readings from Headmaster Snape's collection, and I am learning much that would have been hard to achieve in any academic setting. That is, when the books don't bite or try to maim me."

The Headmistress chuckled. "Leave it to Severus to leave behind a library of books that could protect themselves! And how is Ronald doing?"

Hermione groaned. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen Ron in about a year. Ever since we broke things off, it's been… difficult for him to see me."

The older woman tsked. "Come now, surely this curatorship, though admirable, was not worth your relationship with Ron. How has it affected your friendship with Harry?"

"Well, I see Harry every now and again. We have met in Diagon Alley a few times… without Ron or Ginny. I… I never expected any of this."

"Then why in the gods' names did you ever take on that job? Surely, finishing your NEWTs would have been the wisest course of action. I cannot believe you of all people let your education go."

Hermione fought to keep her dismay from showing on her face… This conversation was not going at all as she had planned.

"I had to. We just left him there… I owe him this, at least."

Hermione could have sworn she heard a snort emanate from the portrait wall, but she did not see a slip of Snape in his frame.

"This guilt is not good, Hermione. It is going to end up destroying you. Trust me, I have watched so many make this mistake, Severus included. Do you truly think he was always the way he was? Yes, he was surly at his best and a downright menace at his worst during school, but he did have a sense of humor and even had friends. His guilt over Lily's death ate him alive." She paused, sipping her tea. "As much as it pains me to say this, it is quite possibly a good thing that Severus died the way he did—I don't know what he would have done with himself after the war."

Hermione had not considered this before. What would Snape have done after the war? It certainly would have been difficult for him to stay at Hogwarts after his perceived reign of terror, and from everything she'd gathered from studying his life, she was fairly confident that the last place he would have wanted to return to was Spinner's End. What would he have done?

They both sat in silence, sipping their tea, lost in their thoughts. Hermione finally broke the silence.

"Actually, I did want to ask you about something I read in one of the Headmaster's books. About Time-Turners."

"I didn't know you were still interested in Time-Turners?"

"Well, you know, with all of my experience using one third year, it's always interested me…" She trailed off, hoping the Headmistress would take the bait.

"Well, dear, what have you read?"

"Have you ever heard of a Time-Turner that could take one to the future?"

The Headmistress looked stunned—apparently, this was as shocking a question as she thought.

"Actually, I have… There was a rumor that Voldemort was working on one during the First War, but no one ever saw one. There certainly wasn't one in the Department of Mysteries even before the Time-Turners were destroyed…" She gave Hermione a pointed look, and Hermione blushed slightly, remembering her involvement in that day. "But no, none has ever been made; it's merely theoretical. What book did you find it in?"

"Oh… Well, I really don't remember… I mean," Hermione dissembled, hearing another snort come from the empty frame. The Headmistress gave her a look that clearly meant she did not believe what Hermione was saying at all.

"Well, you'll have to share it with me if you do ever remember. I would love to see it."

"Of course." Hermione desperately needed to change the subject. "So, how does the coming school year look to be shaping up?"

The Headmistress began to go on about repair schedules and patching up the Sorting Hat, and Hermione used the opportunity to get lost in her thoughts, smiling and nodding whenever the Headmistress paused. She went on to discuss the possibility of starting a lower school for younger students, and Hermione felt bad about interrupting, but it was almost time to reopen the museum.

"Headmistress, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I really must be going. The museum reopens in fifteen minutes."

The Headmistress walked her to the door, pulling her into a close hug before allowing her to leave.

"Hermione, please don't be so much of a stranger. We miss having you around the castle." The Headmistress' smile counteracted the gruffness of her tone.

"I promise."

And with a final squeeze, she left the office, walking down the stairs, lost in her thoughts. There were so many things she didn't know; so many questions still unanswered. She began making a mental list of questions she needed answers to. First, whether hemorrhaging was a normal side effect of long-term time travel. They had been lucky that it was simply a horrifically bad nosebleed and nothing more serious. Next, she needed to study the Time-Turner and find out if it even could go backwards in time, or if she was somehow going to have to find a new one. She was sure there was some reason it was silver instead of gold; she hoped that Snape's books would help.

As she made her way across the lawns of Hogwarts, she tried to center herself. If Snape actually had managed to break out of her attic, there was no way to know what sort of damage he had done to the house. At least she had thought ahead and made him those sandwiches—lord knew how mad he would be if caged and hungry.

She Apparated back to Spinner's End, this time appearing within the house. She could remove the wards from the inside that had served to lock him in.

She walked through the house carefully. Nothing looked amiss. She cast Homenum Revelio; he was still in the attic. Happy that her spells had not failed her, she set about to reopening the museum.

AN: As always, thanks to my awesome beta team. Y'all rock!