Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter 36 : Epilogue
"Potter! I need to warn him!" He suddenly shouted, trying to get up and ending up tangled in bed sheets, swearing profusely.
He had been going in and out of consciousness for three days already, delirious with fever and venom. I had witnessed him in various states of anguish, seen him cry in his disturbed sleep, heard him plead. I assumed from his reaction to physical contact whether he had been tormentor or victim. Ah, but he had hidden a lot from me, the little sneak. This time however was different. The quality of his voice, the urgency of his demand as well as the muffled swear words had been absent previously. I put a calming hand on his arm and began talking.
"It's okay Severus. Harry knows." He turned strangely vacant eyes to me before awareness lit them up again. Then the inquisition began. Where, how, why, when, who — he asked about almost everything and I talked for hours, getting up from time to time to release tension or sometimes for a no more mundane reason than to get a tea. I kept his memories for a later time, when he'll be fully healed and able to deal with them on his own because he certainly wouldn't want me as a witness. He was drained already, his skin pearly white, a slight bead of perspiration on his forehead. I retrieved my book and settled comfortably on the armchair I had brought by the bed while sleep overtook him. Planning what was coming next would wait still.
"How are you feeling about the trial?" I asked as he righted his robes once more. Harry — bless his kind soul— had finally decided that his hated teacher was due respect and took up a campaign of reinstatement. Ah, Harry and his yearning for justice. Having witnessed Severus' innermost secrets seemed to have opened a well of esteem and admiration in my friend. I discovered he had learned a few tricks from me because he had tirelessly worked towards finding us. When Severus' body had been found missing from the Shack, he had launched himself into his search. And while we both could have hidden ourselves so thoroughly he would have spent his whole life investigating in vain, I somehow managed to convince Severus it might be beneficial to him to meet Harry. A trial would most surely secure him a full pardon and a public revelation of his real role in the war. He deserved the Order of Merlin or at the very least, an acknowledgment of his deeds.
So there we stood, four months later and a few hours before his trial — championed by a Potter rather than Albus Dumbledore this time. And while he would be facing countless faces, I would wait under Polyjuice with the public, anxiously worrying about him, about the verdict and about the state he would come back to me. He would stand there and took in stride all the hate, the disbelief as he faced his former pupils tortured by the Carrows under his Headmastership of Hogwarts or the families of those he had let die as a spy. He would face his former colleagues who had driven him out of the castle, out for his blood and casting nasty hexes. He would have to answer to the testament of other Death-Eaters, claiming him as one of their own. And I knew he would accept an unfavourable verdict as due justice for his past crimes. There were days — more often than not — when he wished he had died. He might think I couldn't see through his facade but I knew better. And I grieved silently for the man I had come to love over the years. He would never be easy — he was embittered, oftentimes sullen and had very little patience. He was also loyal, brave and passionate.
If only he knew how to forgive himself.
"Severus, I need your help." He looked up from his book to give me his undivided attention. "In a few days, it's going to be the first year remembrance of the end of the war."
"What are you uncertain about?"
"I have to set events in motion. The time draws near." He steepled his fingers, never taking his gaze off mine.
"Go on."
"Time has to get round. I went back once, I must go back again for the circle to be complete. Yet the events and circumstances leading to my decisions are not the same. I cannot snap my fingers to take my other self into the past and hope for the best. There is too much at stake. And we're the only ones in the confidence."
"That is not quite true. Minerva McGonagall is aware of your tampering. I do not know yet what use that could be to us however. Haven't you planned for this?"
"Of course I have. But I have some misgivings."
"Scruples are for those who can afford them my dear. I had thought you, at least, had learnt that much."
I looked away. Words couldn't properly convey my conflicted feelings. I wasn't even able to name most of them. I stood up and looked out of the window. One would think that a peaceful, stress-less life would have mellowed us but I still felt as taunt as a string on a bow. And Severus, despite all his efforts and progress, wasn't that relaxed either. I reckon it would take us years but what a shame really. Hadn't we earned a few quiet, loving years together? Apart from society, isolated in a bubble free of responsibility, where we could read and brew and watch seasons blend into one another, content with the uneventful, comfortable life we led? It seemed we weren't meant to and that saddened me tremendously. I watched the light as it warmed the fields around the house, watched the small, inconspicuous shadows the tall blades of wheat cast on the ground.
"I had copied each and every memory I had of my year on the run and the months following the first and failed confrontation between Harry and Voldemort. I have planned to replace her memories with mine so that she would take the same steps as I. But I hadn't planned for how I will to do this or make it convincing. We certainly do not want Harry and Ron to go looking into the matter. It has to be definitive and without a shadow of a doubt. What would lead her to disappear? And how do I get the potion as right as the first time around? I'm not even sure how I did it..."
"Potions," he answered simply.
"Pardon me?"
"Potions," he repeated. "I'm quite sure your other self would be one to experiment in her own time. Accidents happen all the time. You must not make her disappear — it will only bring doubt to your friends. She must seemingly die. Draught of the living death would do nicely. You will need to approach her and gain her to trust you enough to drink an unknown potion. Polyjuice would be perfect — just get a hair of Potter or Weasley. I will brew what you need."
"I will need a hair from Minerva too. She is the one who sent me back. I'll pose for her this time around. Would you agree to use your Legilimency to take her memories away, implant mine instead and make them seem as true as possible? Would you be able to?"
"I'll do what's necessary."
"Severus, I —" I began but couldn't seem to find the right words. I must have looked lost for he got up and enfolded me in his arms.
"It's okay. The necessary thing is not always a right deed. But it must be done. You know the truth of this."
"I will sacrifice her life. For mine." He tightened his hold for a brief second then held me at arm's length.
"Tell me. If you confessed the truth to her, would she go willingly? Would she alter the events like you did?"
"I cannot say for sure. She might. Or knowing the circumstances might prove disastrous because she will try too hard and get the exact opposite reaction."
"Then you have your answer. She mustn't know. Send her back with your memories, your determination and grief. Send her back as you were, snarl, bite and all."
"She'll think Harry, Ron and Neville died."
"It is unavoidable."
"I know the pain. It's all-consuming. I do not wish it on anyone."
"It is necessary. You must know it is the only way." I nodded before looking away. Knowing it didn't absolved me or released me from guilt. "Now what about that Potion you brewed to Travel? This seems like a very attractive perspective."
Strangely, sending my younger self back in Time had been liberating. It was as if we had been freed of restraints we hadn't known to possess. Nothing held us back in England — no work, no friends, no family and no possessions. We decided to leave everything behind and travel abroad. I had been doing it as a curse-breaker and I was immensely glad to do it again. I showed him around the places I had fallen in love with, introduced him into the Wizarding communities I had known and we discovered the others together. We wandered aimlessly for years, shedding the cloak of responsibilities we both had worn for too long, unburdening our souls and thoroughly enjoying ourselves. It was cathartic and invigorating. Lines of worry faded away and yet I began to grow restless. It took me a while to figure out what was wrong and even longer to muster the courage to talk about it with Severus. It was a rainy day, when one only wants to curl up on the sofa under a warm blanket with a hot cocoa or a spiked coffee and a heavy tome.
"Something has been bothering you. What is it?" he asked in his brusque way, hiding his own trepidation behind abrupt words.
"We never talked about children." It seemed to me silence stretched for all eternity.
"Indeed," he finally offered and I heard his reluctance.
"I do want a family."
"I have deduced as much."
"Aren't you interested? Don't you want a child?"
"Poor soul! Why would you willingly subject an innocent to such a fate?"
"Severus!" I chastised. He blinked.
"I am not fit to be a father," he shrugged inelegantly. "And I have no patience whatsoever." He went back to his book.
"I disagree. And I still want a child."
"And what exactly do you think would befall a child of ours? He — or she— would be ostracized. I assume you'd want him to go to Hogwarts. And then what? A Snape? Back there? Where would he be Sorted? A Gryffindor like you? That would go well. Maybe a Slytherin? How would you like that? Best mate with Malfoy and Parkinson. Want to have them home? Or maybe just a nobody who will be pushed around for seven very long years. Neither of us had been popular. Don't delude yourself, there is no way a child of ours would get any social skills. Of course, we could name the child after you but if the poor thing has any luck, he'll get my looks and the game will be away before it even begins. Pray that the child looks like you and nobody ask questions about why the kid looks like the very dead Hermione Granger."
"We don't have to go back to England. Yes, I would like my child to know Hogwarts. However, there are many other magical schools throughout the world if you're so concerned. That apart, I can't see why our child would be unhappy or why it would be such a punishment to have us as parents. There is nothing a loving family can't overcome. And I just know you would love our child to bits. I'm not demanding of you to get me pregnant on the spot. I'm just asking that you consider it. Honestly and truthfully. I deserve a careful decision at least and not just the offhand answer you provided."
Willow was born on a stormy night, the sky ripped fiercely by lightning. We were in South America at the time, in a small Wizarding community and I gave birth in my home, assisted by the shaman and apothecary. She was small and fragile and she grew up as a brave, fearless little hurricane, avid to learn. Every adult looked over the various children and Willow blossomed during the years we spent there, refining her curiosity and open, trustful disposition. She showed early signs of magic and she was delighted to experiment the Magic coursing through her fingers, racing after the oldest when they would allow her into the confidence. When she neared her 10th birthday, we moved nearer to the closest school, Castelobruxo. Despite Severus' misgivings, Willow was beautiful. Her pale skin framed by wavy jet black hair gave her a somewhat vampire-like glow that seemed to attract boys — to Severus' dismay I might add. But our daughter never got full of herself. She tended to be a bit rough on those who hadn't been gifted with a mind as keen as hers and she could sometimes seems pretentious but she was never cruel and never judged a book on its cover. I had no doubt she would one day become one of the finest witches and show them all what a Snape could do, given the right circumstances. But this is a story for another time and one that I am not meant to relate as it is not mine.
My testament ends here as it is the truth of what had transpired through the second Wizarding War of Britain. This is how everything really happened and why Hermione Granger died. This is the story of a man reborn and of a woman who died to save all others, those they had loved. And in the turmoil of it all, I can assure you, we both found peace and love for ourselves. Willow is and will always be our greatest treasure, our greatest reward and our greatest pride.
To those who have found this document, I, Hermione née Granger, renamed Barnett, now named Snape, attest I chose to Travel back in Time to help the downfall of Tom Marvolo Riddle who used to call himself Voldemort and in so doing, met the man I would spend the rest of my life with. And I have no regrets whatsoever apart from the slight pang of sadness concerning those I had loved most as a teenager and never forgotten — Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
A/N : I feel immensely happy to have been able to finish this story. It was my very first one. I rewrote it completely and it retains almost nothing from its early form yet it holds a special place in my heart compared to all the other stories I posted. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. For those of you who began when I first posted, thank you for your patience (I am not a regular updater) and your support. You may not have reviewed, but I know you read. It means much. For those of you who took the time to review, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wish you a happy time reading, whether on the site or a real book. Cheers !