Before I start this chapter I would like to say that I do NOT support the Hermione and Snape pairing, in fact it is one of the few pairings I can't read fanfictions about. But I DO believe that Snape likes Hermione a bit more then he lets on.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter twenty-four – The Drought of the Living Dead

Song: Slipped Away – Avril Lavigne

Time passes. Sometimes it's hard to tell. But time does pass. It's a funny thing the things that stick out in your mind. In the next two years a basilisk was released in the school intent on killing Harry Potter and one of our very own professors proved to be hiding the dark lord's soul inside of him. Again with the irony. Like the dark lord had a soul.

But no, those things were trivial to me, living half in and half out of my own little world. Potter had woken up the bitter part, but it would take someone who had been kind to me to wake up the more… joyful side.

In Draco's third year we were seeking out yet another DADA teacher, and yet again I was turned down. Oh, Dumbledore trusted me, or so he said. He claimed the reason for not giving me the job was to keep me away from my dark past, everyone assumed this meant the death eater part of it, but I had a suspicion that he felt if I was allowed around so many dark curses that it would wake up a different part of my past. Was he worried I would end up in the ground with the same fate as Reggie?

While being stuck in the Hogwarts castle for so long one must pick up a hobby if that person doesn't wish to go insane. I had picked my old hobbies back up: hating anyone with the last name Potter, and listening at doors.

It was by this way that I happened to find out just what kind of candidates Dumbledore was hiring.

"Minerva, I just can't seem to find someone that fits the bill. Over three hundred résumés, and none of them are just the right type. What do you think?"

There was a shuffle of papers as Dumbledore handed them to McGonagall.

"All of these seem perfectly acceptable. Oh, what about this one!"

There was more shuffling of papers.

"Now, Minerva, he was barely welcome as a student here, I'm not sure parents would approve of such a thing. You remember how much trouble he used to get in and then there was that incident with…"

"Albus! Do you honestly think your going to find someone better? The children would love him, and as for the parents not welcoming him, well, all of our teachers can't be death eaters now can they?"

"I've told you before! I trust Severus implicitly, and I truly believe he is no longer a death eater. I know much more about his past and his regrets then you do."

"No one, Albus, no one stops being a death eater!"

"But what if they weren't truly a death eater to begin with, Minnie?" I said pushing open the door and striding into the office holding a term paper that I believed to be copied out of a book.

"Severus! What would you think of hiring Remus?" Dumbledore said tossing a paper into my hands.

"I don't believe my input is welcome here," I said, handing the paper back.

"He knows as well as I, there would be no better teacher then Remus," McGonagall cut in.

"I know nothing more then there is no possible way to place the students in any more danger, with that madman on the loose, you know how close Lupin was to Black, there is no doubt that they will be in contact, and then you have his 'little furry problem' as I believe you called it when he so viciously attacked me," I said running out of breath, "But I also know there would be no one the students would look forward to seeing more each day then Lupin, who I believe is still a child under his sorrow."

And with that I left the office, only to find out a week later that Remus would be the new DADA teacher. And only moments after the man arrived on campus did he pay a visit to my office to thank me for the help I gave him in getting the job. Apparently Dumbledore had told him that I had put in a good word for him. Was no possible way to place the students in any more danger and viciously attacked me good words? If so, I've herd that Bellatrix Lestrange is looking for a job, maybe we could hire her as well.

It just so happened that I was also given the responsibility of making the potions to keep Lupin away from his monstrous side. I was told it was a compliment on my skills as the potions master, I found it an insult, stating that I had nothing better to do with my free time. Even though I didn't.

It was one of these nights when I was making the potion I reached for the jar of spiders, trying to stir the potion while unscrewing the lid, and in the process my sleeve brushed the desk, sending papers and jars flying.

I watched as one piece of paper, a small black and white square fell by itself, and then as one of my potions teetered on the edge of my desk. I should have chosen to pick up the potion, but instead I kneeled down and grabbed the picture, smiling as I turned it over to see Reggie, joking around as I stood there, looking absolutely board, but occasionally a small smile crept across my face.

There was a crash as the bottle fell from my desk, and just as the world began to spin I felt a mist on the back of my neck and smelled the blackberry scent of one of my favorite potions. The drought of the living dead. I fell down, and the world went black, but only for a minute, for soon I was standing on top of a hill, in what appeared to be a muggle village. Everything around me was sepia. A short woman stood next to me.

She was much older now, but I recognized her at once. She stood with the wind blowing through her cloak, her frizzy reddish brown hair pulled into a bun. She was just as forgettable as ever, but there was still something beautiful about her if you looked hard enough.

"Reggie," I said, but she continued to stare off into the hills, down to a cottage below where a small boy sat on the front steps playing with a toad.

"Is it you?" I asked, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Only for a while. It's hard to tell who I am."

"I've missed you."

"I would say the same, but you know how hard lying is for me. Sometimes I regret it, others I'm glad I'm alone now. Isn't he beautiful?" she said pointing down to the little boy.

"You didn't even say goodbye…"

"You would have stopped me. It would have been too hard. But I like it here, with him," she said pointing to the boy again.

"Who is he?"

"A part of me. I guess you could say he's my inner child," she chuckled. "He reminds me of you. Very quite, and lonely. It's so sad to see him alone."

"But I'm alone Reggie. I'm alone and you don't seem to care!" I said, suddenly feeling like a child again, suddenly I was a child again. but Reggie remained an adult, and as emotionless as before.

"I do care, but you aren't alone. You have Cissy, and her son."

"What's death like?"

"A lot like living," she said with a laugh, and then she turned to me. "So much like living I don't believe I'm dead! Professor?"

"What?" I asked as I began to move away from the small sepia scene.

"Professor?" she said again.

I felt my eyes opening, and I was looking up at a much younger Reggie. She said the word professor again, and my view changed a bit. It wasn't a younger Reggie. It was Hermione Granger. She was kneeling beside me, I had passed out on the stone floor. She looked panicked, but once I began to sit up she smiled. Probably the first and last time she would be glad to see me alive.

"What are you doing here?" I said sitting up and heading back to the cauldron, containing a now very burnt potion.

"I had some questions," she said as she too rose to her feet.

"Well?" I asked, turning around to see her holding the picture of Reggie and me.

"She died didn't she?" Hermione asked.

"What were your questions!?" I said, snatching the picture away.

"Oh, I was wondering what you knew about werewolves," she stammered, obviously startled by the picture of me and what would appear to be a close friend.

"Why would I know anything about werewolves?"

"Well, sir, I was thinking about some of the things Professor Lupin was saying and I was wondering if maybe there was something more to it then just a lesson plan?"

"Miss Granger, please leave my office."

She turned to go, but as she rested her hand on the doorknob she turned back around, "She died didn't she?"

I considered throwing a jar of snake fangs at her, but finally decided to let it go.

"Yes, Miss Granger, she died a very long time ago. That is the last picture I took of her."

"Did Volde– he-who-must-not-be-named do it sir?"

"No, Miss Granger, she did it herself. Now if you could please leave my office before the affects of this potion wear off and I think twice about not giving you a detention."

She nodded and slipped out the door. She wasn't all that bad. Much like me. When she arrived she had been smart, eager, unpopular, and had really ugly hair.

I silently slipped the photo into my desk, with a smile. Somehow Reggie hadn't seemed all too unreal in my dream. Almost as if I had really been talking to her.

I didn't sleep for weeks after that.