Chapter 1
19 September 2001
Six years earlier
Severus Snape was decanting the last of an experimental pancreas strengthening draught when one of his apprentice potioneers entered the lab carrying an emergency order. Hands full with pouring the solution from the heavy caldron into phials for testing, he raised an inquiring brow at the woman.
"What is it, Jones?"
Serena Jones stepped forward, holding the medication request up for his perusal. "Sir, the Janus Thickey Ward just placed a speciality order. It's a red script."
A red script meant that only a senior potioneer could prepare the order, and Snape bit back a sigh at the interruption; this late at night, he was likely the only one around with sufficient enough permissions to make the formula. "And what's it for?" he queried absently, attention still focused on the steaming cauldron in front of him.
Jones glanced down and read the order out loud. "A double dose of calming draught, one-fourth measure of heart's ease, a full measure of a bronchodilator, and a half measure of an anticholinergic."
Snape blinked and glanced up, surprised. Put together, that particular combination was only ever used for palliative care. "Who's dying?"
"It says that it's for the patient in 403. Ummm, one Collette Rosier."
Oh, bollocks... Jones saw his reflexive flinch to the name and asked a question of her own. "Someone you know, sir?"
Recalling the feisty and highly opinionated former governor of Hogwarts, he nodded. "Alas. She's the grand dame of the Rosier family, or at least what is left of it. She was in charge of the Hogwarts bursary fund for the better part of fifty years."
Memories pushed at Snape, along with a wave of sorrow. He'd been a bursary student from the start and had both dreaded and anticipated Collette Rosier's galleon-filled missives. Without the funding, he would not have been able to attend Hogwarts, but it had stung his youthful pride to be so dependent upon others for something as basic as clothing and school fees. Upon becoming Head of Slytherin, Severus had been staggered to discover just how many students needed partial or full scholarships and began to work with the woman to increase the fund. Over the years he had developed a healthy respect for Madame Rosier's skills in both soliciting money and managing the funds; eventually, they'd grown into friendly acquaintances. Given what he owed the woman, Severus decided to push the rest of his project back for the night and personally deliver the potion down to the Janus Thickey Ward.
Banishing his now-empty caldron to the sinks, Snape motioned towards an open stretch of the counter. "Set up a fresh caldron while I pull the bases for the potion. Just because you can't make this one doesn't mean you can't observe. Did the healer request a liquid or a vapour?"
Pleased at the opportunity to see the creation of a rarely used potion, Jones smiled faintly. "They want it in a liquid."
"Which healer is it?" he asked over his shoulder, already making for the storeroom.
"Granger, sir."
His steps didn't falter, even if his thoughts blanched momentarily. More jagged memories of the past swept forward, equally as bittersweet as the last swell concerning Collete Rosier. Well, he thought ruefully, clearly, it's going to be one of those nights.
The Janus Thickey Ward was only dimly lit, the somnolent murmur of sounds standing in stark contrast to the normal hustle and bustle of the daytime hours. Peering at the rota board hanging above the empty healer's station, Snape saw that Granger had been scheduled to finish her shift some five hours earlier. They'd only ran into each other a handful of times since she'd transition from an apprentice to junior healer, but by all accounts, she was a competent professional. So, she's either still here, or she wrote the orders before she left in case matters took a turn for the worse. Given her predilection for all things preparation, I bet it was the latter, not the former. I can't think of any other reason she'd stay this late to sit at the bedside of a pureblood witch.
But he was wrong; upon entering the small private room, he found Granger sitting at Madame Rosier's bedside, holding her hand. The older woman was laying on her side, back to the door. Even in that elevated position, she was presenting with the distinctive wet, breathy rattle that heralded imminent death.
"According to the roster, you were off hours ago," Snape commented neutrally, and Granger glanced up swiftly.
"I was." At his raised brow, she added, "No one should die alone."
Granger determinedly held his gaze as she said it, their shared history drifting between them like a particularly thick mid-winter fog. It was impossible for either of them to forget that once upon a time, she, Potter, and Weasley had abandoned him to die alone.
Regret, well-aged but none the weaker for the passing of time, seemed to ripple from her expression in a mute apology. He could say much to the implicit plea in her words, but there seemed little point at this late stage in the game. However terrible the events in the Shack had been, they'd both had clear roles to play on that long-ago day in May, and play them they had. And I have no right to be resentful- after all, I did survive all that dark night, and more besides...
"Would you like me to administer the potion?" he asked instead, and she gave her assent.
"Madame Rosier," she announced, "Master Snape is here with a calming draft that will help to clear your throat and ease your breathing. I'm going to roll you onto your back so that he can give it to you."
That garnered no reaction from the bed, but Healer Granger still waited for several polite beats before gently manoeuvring the dying witch into a prone position.
Reaching out, Severus stroked Collette Rosier's cool forehead. Her paper-thin skin was waxen, with blue-grey undertones and her sunken, closed eyes robbed her face of any animation. The ghastly sound of her laboured breathing filled the room, and it was an effort to keep his expression free of emotion.
"Hello, Collette. I regret that it took something like this for us to meet again. If I would have known that you were here, I would have come down to visit you far sooner." With care, he tilted her jaw open and brought the potion up to her thin lips. "This will be cool going down, and should taste only of mint."
Severus administered it slowly, stopping several times to make sure that she wouldn't choke on the viscous liquid. Within a minute, her respirations had deepened from the rapid, shallow breaths of before to something approximating normal sleep. Once confirming that Severus had finished, Granger leant back over to place the older woman on her side, some of the tension flowing from the room as she did so. Picking up Collette's right hand, which had tightened into a gnarled fist, she began to massage the cramping muscles.
"Is there no family?" Severus asked at last, trying to recall the proper genealogy and who he might know that would still be alive after everything.
"There are third cousins in France, but no one from the direct line."
"Ah." Her husband had been killed in the late seventies, he suddenly recalled, along with one of her children. Even so, there should have been other people at this bedside; a grandson had been a Slytherin in his year, he recalled, as well as an older granddaughter in Ravenclaw. However, it seemed none of Collette's immediate family had survived the ravages of the Dark Lord's blood cult.
Throat going unexpectedly tight, Snape turned his attention back to Granger. Her eyes were shiny and bright, and he was surprised at how personal she was taking this death.
"How long has she been here?"
Granger didn't look up. "Three weeks. Her elf brought her in after she fell and fractured her hip. She made some improvements the first week, but then things started to go downhill after that."
"Do you know her?"
"No." Sensing his lingering questions, she added, "I've always tried to live by the maxim of 'do unto others', Master Snape, and this is a prime example of the type of kindness that I hope is granted to me someday."
Under any normal circumstances, he would have rolled his eyes at the blatant moralising, but this was hardly the time or place to start that particular argument. Moreover, he didn't think that Granger was trying to lecture him on proper behaviour, but rather, was being self-critical towards her own past actions.
In the weak light of the room, her face was nearly as pale as Collette's, although the undertones were far better; lines of incipient strain bracketed Granger's mouth, and dark circles lay under her eyes attesting to far too many sleepless nights in a row. Snape was startled to realise that she couldn't be any older than twenty-two, despite appearing a good ten years older. While she'd always been a perfectionist as a child, not to mention utterly terrified of failure, the shadows lurking in her expression made it obvious that the adult Granger was being driven by more than just the pursuit of high standards.
Hogwarts failed her, Severus thought, regret once again filling his mind as he contemplated everything that had been lost in the wars. Both she and Collette, really...
Severus rarely had the luxury of being able to practice the golden rule. The vagaries of his life had decreed that he take a far more pragmatic approach to morals. But since the death of the Dark Lord, he'd been given the freedom to shed a few of his masks. No longer was he stuck in the role of dungeon bat or cruel spy; he could be human if he so desired, possessing emotions beyond rage or cold calculation.
And, inexplicably, this was a night when he wished to be something more. Crossing the foot of the bed, Snape sat down in the chair next to Granger. She sent him a sidelong, startled glance before adjusting the monitoring spells on the bed so he could view them as well. It was a thoughtful gesture, as well as a telling one.
"Collette Rosier is quite the battleaxe," he remarked sardonically, making it a compliment, "and damned proud of it."
"Is she?"
"Very much so."
A slight smile carved through Granger's sorrow with the exchange, and Severus was surprised at the flare of pleasure that the movement invoked. It wasn't often that he was put into the position of providing any sort of emotional succour, and it was an even rarer occurrence when the experience didn't leave him feeling anything other than awkwardly inadequate. But why was he impelled to comfort Granger, of all people? The question gave him pause, and he settled back in his chair without commenting further.
Several minutes passed before he decided that it didn't matter: it was unlikely that Granger would be shocked by seeing his human side, and she was even less likely to blab about it come the morning. Eyeing Granger surreptitiously, he noted that the Healer was projecting her magic over Collette in little wavelets through their linked hands. The sensation was one of soothing warmth and fellowship, entirely free of the devastation that filled her countenance.
Even from a distance, the peacefulness of it drew him in.
Without any warning, Severus was abruptly awash in his own recollections of dying. There had been no warmth in the Shrieking Shack that night, only desperation and an icy, burning fire as Nagini's venom raced through his bloodstream. Despite the unyielding wooden floor underneath him, Severus had felt like he was drowning, unable to do more than gasp futility for oxygen as darkness closed in around him. The certain knowledge that everything that he had fought for- everything he'd sacrificed to keep Lily's son alive- was likely to be for nought had been the final, bitter, millstone around his neck as he'd sunk into darkness.
A convulsive, faltering inhalation from the bed ripped his attention back to the present, and Severus hoped that his stumble down memory lane hadn't been completely obvious. This isn't about me, he reminded himself, pulling on his occlumentic shields just enough that he wasn't entirely lost at sea. This is about Collette Rosier, and Granger too, I suppose. Everything else can wait.
Swallowing away the metallic taste lingering on his tongue, Snape deliberately called forth other, happier times. Reaching for the pair of intertwined hands on the bed, he placed his longer fingers over Collette's stiff, blue-veined ones, Granger's palm still resting on the other side. Severus shivered as her magic swirled to include him, and then began to impart his own invocations to mix.
Gratitude came first, both for the personal support he'd received from Collette as well as for the tireless work she'd done to care for Hogwarts' poorer students. Next was a sense of deep affection and recognition: Collette Rosier was not dying unknown among strangers. There was an acknowledgement of her many losses over the years, none of them material. Last of all, Severus put forth his wish that these last few steps of her journey would be made peacefully, and that she would find the comfort of her family waiting for her on the other side of the veil.
Granger went entirely still as she registered the flow of his magic mingling with hers, and for a moment, Snape wondered if he had overstepped his bounds. Would she perceive something nefarious in his actions? But before he could pull away, she shifted so that they were both cradling Collette's hand between them, the tips of her fingers brushing against his, drawing him closer. A flare of power arced between them, her magic making clear his welcome with an electric, elemental joy.
The rightness of the connection stole his breath. Slowly he turned to stare at Granger. He was not alone in his reaction. Two bright spots of rose painted the porcelain of her cheeks, and her large brown eyes displayed a welter of emotions more complicated than any Gordian knot.
Quite suddenly Severus found himself flailing far outside of his depth, an unfamiliar yearning pushing everything else aside.
It was Hermione who eventually broke the spell snapping between them. "So I take it you know Madame Rosier personally," she stated, voice husky with a suppressed sentiment.
Clearly his throat, Severus nodded once sharply. "Well enough. She was a Hogwarts governor for decades. We worked together on supplementing the bursary fund after I started teaching. You would have appreciated her zeal for the righteous cause."
"I'm sure that I would have." Pain pushed its way through the fray, and Severus wondered once more at the strength of the demons pursuing her.
The urge to comfort struck him again, and without stopping to think, Severus began to stroke the side of Hermione's hand with his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing movement. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly before she returned her gaze to the bed.
"Collette greatly enjoyed nettling Albus," he went on steadily, pretending that they were not, in essence, holding hands. "On one memorable occasion, she hexed him right before the start-of-year feast so that his voice sounded like he'd been inhaling helium. Minerva had to deliver the opening remarks that night. Everyone was quite amused. Except for him, of course."
She laughed softly. "Poor thing. What did he do to warrant such shocking abuse?"
"I can't help but notice that you don't question that he was the one at fault."
"Yes, well I did interact with the wizard on a semi-regular basis, usually in the hospital wing following one of Harry's harebrained escapades that he'd egged on."
There was a fond sort of exasperation colouring her words. "And yet you never stopped chasing after Potter."
"No, I didn't." Granger tilted her head, giving him a chiding glance. "And I never will. Now tell me, what did the mighty and all-powerful Albus Dumbledore do to deserve Madame Rosier's wrath?"
"Cut her off in the middle of a major budget presentation, and then tried to argue that retrenchment wasn't really necessary, most especially in the case of the Transfiguration department. She informed him that since he clearly didn't have any more sense than a puffed up bag of hot air, he might as well sound like one. After his first squeaky protestations, she had the cheek to offer him a lemon drop."
That earned him a full laugh, and Hermione smiled approvingly down at Collette. "Oh, well done, you! I would have enjoyed seeing that."
"Minerva and Pomona agreed with Collette's assessment whole-heartedly, and as Filus wasn't willing to risk becoming the next target, Albus was forced to find a cure by himself. It took almost two weeks, and in the meantime, he still had to teach advanced transfiguration..."
Severus spent the next hour discussing what he knew of Collette's tenure on the board with Granger, as well as the wider politics of the school over the decades. It was strangely... nice. She was far less sentimental about school than he would have wagered and could be quite cutting in her reading of a situation, even if it reflected poorly against those of her house or friends.
It was a marked downturn in Collette's respiration that shifted the mood back to sombre, and they sat silently for a time, letting their combined magics do the talking for them.
"I wasn't alone."
Granger jerked, and Severus belatedly realised that the softly spoken words were his.
"In the Shack?" she asked cautiously, eyes pointedly staying on Collette.
He nodded reluctantly, unsure why he was even explaining this to Granger. "Fawkes was lurking in the shadows of the other room, along with my personal house-elf."
"There has been a great deal of conjecture about how you survived." Granger's voice was free of inflexion, but the question was clear nonetheless. Perversely, an ember of anger flared up, no matter that he had been the one to bring the subject up again.
"Yahtzee- the elf- was equipped with an infirmary's worth of healing potions, including the anti-venom that I created after Arthur Weasley was attacked by Nagini. Fawkes' tears also proved to be necessary for my survival."
"You had an elf named 'Yahtzee'?" Granger said, appearing dumbfounded by only one of his revelations.
"Have, and yes." Severus felt his mouth beginning to tighten into a scowl as Granger's expression made clear that she was going to continued to dig for elements of his private history. He deliberately took a calming breath in. "After all, who am I to tell an elf that it's not a proper name?"
A low, ugly, rasp issued from Collette's mouth, and they both froze as they stared at the dying woman. With a shudder, she inhaled again, her breathing returning to a regular pattern. In unison, both he and Granger exhaled with relief.
"How did the elf come up with the name?"
Snape held back a grim smile. In for a penny, I suppose... "Charity rescued him as an elfling. Yahtzee was one of many board games that she enjoyed."
There was another long pause before Granger spoke again. "Charity, as in Professor Burbage?"
Severus didn't bother to hide the annoyance in his voice; how like Granger to continue to press on a topic that clearly was none of her business. Still, he was at a deathbed, and for that reason alone he granted her a civil answer. "The very same. Before everything... happened, things were friendly between us. She took great pleasure in trying to beat me at the daily cryptic crossword. After Charity was murdered, I wasn't in a position to refuse when Yahtzee requested to serve me."
There was another one of those damnable pauses, and Snape braced himself for another barrage of invasive questions. Granger surprised him, however.
"Didn't she also have a cat named Pavlov?"
"Yes," he confirmed acidly, "and the bloody menace had us all conditionally trained, believe me."
Granger let loose a burble of amusement. "Mmm, yes... He and Crookshanks were mortal enemies from the start."
"I never could understand her affection for the creature." Or himself, for that matter, but Snape left that part of the equation unsaid.
"She was a singular woman." Granger's abiding respect rang clear in the statement, and she gave Collette's hand a gentle squeeze, conferring the same honour upon the dying woman.
All of a sudden, Snape felt like he was choking on an overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and crushing sorrow. It took every scrap of his willpower to not jump up and flee the room, Collette Rosier's imminent death or no. What on earth possessed me to think that staying here tonight was a good idea? he berated himself viciously. What the fuck was I supposed to get out of this? Closure? A new friend?
He was saved by the interruption of yet another frightful gasp from Collette. Shoving everything other than his awareness of her into the cold storage of his mind, Severus gripped her hand, not sure if he was wishing for her to take another breath or finally cease this farce of living.
Collette's chest laboriously rose again, then gradually collapsed as her breath hissed from her half-opened mouth. Five seconds passed, then ten. There was no further movement from the bed.
The chill light of pre-dawn was beginning to creep in through the window, and for the first time, he noticed how stiff he'd gotten. Reluctantly, Snape glanced up to the monitoring charms floating above the bed. One-by-one, the sigils went grey.
A sharp inhalation drew his regard back to Granger, and he saw that tears were freely running down her face. Thankfully, the urge to comfort the girl did not rise up again, but rather, a dull sort of anger at having to be the recipient of so much unwanted emotional turmoil. It was infinitely easier to bear.
Thank the Gods my role in this is nearly completed... Disengaging his hand, Snape reached into his pocket and withdrew a shining golden galleon. Rolling the body onto it's back, he placed the coin in the open mouth to serve as Charon's obol. A brief murmur spelled the lips shut forever. Straightening up, he moved to the other side of the bed, raising a challenging brow at Granger. Pointedly, he let his gaze drift to the box of tissues by the bedside and back up to Granger's wet cheeks. He let his expression mirror his thoughts; her mawkish display was inconsistent with her role as Healer.
For a second time that evening, colour filled Granger's face, first a wave of shame, followed swiftly by anger. With a nearly inaudible growl, she turned away from him, snatching a tissue from the box. Snape waited impatiently while she recomposed herself. When she finally turned back they methodically and silently began to wrap the dead woman in the bedsheets.
"Martha," she called hoarsely, and one of the hospital elves popped into the room. Tying the final knot of the shroud, she looked up at the creature. "The time of death was five thirty-two. Please take Madame Rosier down to the morgue."
"Yes, Healer Granger." In a flash, the bed between them was bare and empty.
Snape registered Granger's faded pallor and spent countenance with irritation; how often did she martyr herself like this? What good did it do? "When are you due back on duty? I can't imagine that you'll be any good for your other patients given your current state."
She bristled at his question, a mulish cast appearing on her face. "Not that it's any of your business, but as it happens, I've taken the next three days off." Still glaring at him, she cleared the patient information from the board above the bed with a brusque wave of her hand. "Today is my birthday."
Without waiting for a response, Healer Granger strode from the room, green robes billowing behind her in a visible miasma of anger.
A.N.~ Not an easy chapter to read, I know, and given all the unrelenting bad news as of late, I questioned if I wanted to post it without major revisions. In the end, I couldn't figure out how to do it without basically re-writing the entire story so editing has been minimal. This isn't going to be a warm and fuzzy tale (at least at the start!), so please keep that in mind when reading.
That all being said, the first chapter received a wonderful response, so thank you, lovely readers! And double cheers to Kailin, meg527, Lythandae, Poledne, Montara, Silvermary, HMRoberts, Dentelle, NothingRhymesWOrange, teishamarie as well as several guests for leaving comments.
Please stay safe out there, listen to the advice of your local public health people, and most of all, take of yourself. As always, happy reading!