Chapter 9: A Walk Around
The clock hanging on the wall was stuck at 7:05. Many, many years ago, time stopped for this clock at 7:05. The glass was patched with dust and stains and Hermione decided that it was perhaps the oldest thing in the house, if one ignored to mention the bricks. Plaster was chipping off around the clock, exposing the rough, grey cement.
Stuck in a stupor, Hermione's mind was vaguely trying to figure out the pattern the chipped plaster had created. But despite agonising focus, it turned out to be no perfect shape. It could have been a wave of water, if only a little more plaster was ripped off here and there. Her finger traced the pattern on the kitchen table unconsciously. She wanted to trace the chipped cement on the wall but it seemed hard to reach it.
Hermione had managed to settle herself in a routine of sorts. She went down in the morning after a quick shower, had breakfast while the man remained in her sight, fulfilling the term. After that, she cleaned the kitchen table and washed one of his handkerchiefs. Then, she remained in her room, only leaving to go to the washroom. Her food appeared in her room at the time of lunch and dinner, and the dishes disappeared on their own accord when she was done.
Madam Pomfrey's books on Healing were sitting in a pile in her room, all read twice. That was the little Hermione could do to distract herself. She had still not purchased her new books. She had received letters from Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George (they had co-written it) and Mrs. Weasley.
Harry had mostly apologised, taking the blame on himself, that whatever had happened with her parents was because she was his friend. Hermione had replied to that stupid interpretation with reprimand, telling him to get his head straight and look at the bigger picture that each Muggle-born was a potential target, and that being friends with Harry was her own decision.
Ron had obviously had difficulty in expressing himself, but after years of knowing him, Hermione knew that he meant well. He was worried and she told him, rather lied to him, that she was coping well. When in reality, she had cried herself to sleep every night and woken in cold sweat after having nasty nightmares of watching her parents being stuck with the green light of the Killing Curse. But he did not need to know that.
Ginny had been better than her brother. She had talked sense, not writing platitudes like 'It will be alright' or 'You will be fine'. She had said that it might take time but if Hermione wanted to talk about anything, she was all ears and no pity. Those were her exact words, in fact.
The twins had tried to make her feel better and lighten her mood. They had even asked her if she wanted to go to The Burrow, they could somehow track her down and officially kidnap her. Hermione had smiled at that for she knew they really could do that. But she had told them that she was fine in the Order safe-house at the moment.
It was Mrs. Weasley's letter that had reduced her to tears. The Weasley matriarch had told her that whenever she missed her parents, she could come to her and would always find herself at home. Hermione had cried because she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she could never find a mother that she had lost in anyone else. Mrs. Weasley, she knew, had genuine affection for her, but her Mum was gone, and she couldn't give that place to anyone. The warmth of her arms could not be found with anyone else. But Hermione had thanked her and given her false reassurance.
Although, after sending those replies, she could not bring herself to write anymore letters to anyone. Harry and Ron had sent her more letters over the past days but she ignored them. It was not in her to interact with them and talk about how she felt and lie about being in a safe-house while she was stuck with Snape.
She felt...empty for the most part. When she cried, it felt like a catharsis. Grief was better than emptiness. She sometimes, vaguely, wrote 'I'm sorry, Mum, Dad' or 'Forgive me, Mum, Dad' on small pieces of parchment, as if she could somehow convey it to them. At times, she thought of snapping her wand into two because it was Magic that had killed them, it was because she was a witch that they were murdered. Sometimes, she decided to study very hard and become a Healer to make her parents proud. But sometimes, while learning about the Anatomy, she recalled her Mum teaching her Biology when Hermione was in a Muggle school.
And then she felt crushed, like there was no identity left to her, like everything she knew was gone without a trace.
Hermione kept the more violent thoughts buried deep in herself. Thoughts of betraying the bond and dying, thoughts of casting the Killing Curse on herself, thoughts of Obliviating herself and forgetting the memories that pained her even if that reduced her to become like Lockhart. But killing herself would mean killing Snape and would make her a murderer, too. Obliviating herself would mean forgetting her parents, too, and memories were all she had to cling to...
At the end of the second week after the ordeal, Hermione decided that nurturing hopelessness and melancholia would not work in her favour if she wanted to become a Healer and work with Madam Pomfrey. Hermione knew the signs: it was becoming hard to get up in the morning and start the day, harder to fall asleep the other times. She hardly ate and food tasted like cardboard. If not reading, she spent her time thinking of the past but could hardly comprehend that a future existed. She had hardly spoken two words to anyone in the last two weeks. Professor McGonagall, too, couldn't visit after the last time. And she had no inclination whatsoever to speak to Snape.
So that day when she was done with washing the handkerchief and cleaning the table, Hermione announced to Snape, who was sitting and reading the Prophet in the living room.
"I'm going out."
That seemed to have shocked the man. He had looked up at her questioningly. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me," she said, crossing her arms to her chest. "I want to buy a few things."
Snape kept the Prophet on the coffee table. "We can go to the Diagon Alley tomorrow."
"I said, I am going out, alone," she stated.
"It is not safe for you to be seen alone at the Diagon Alley after-"
"I am not going to the Diagon Alley," Hermione said with as much coldness as she could. "I am going out. In the neighborhood. I have to buy some things. I will find some shops, I'm sure."
"In the neighborhood?" He raised his eyebrow. "And what do you know about the neighborhood here?"
"I am a Muggle-born, I know enough to find my way," she said firmly. Before he could object to her, she said sternly, "I am not asking."
That seemed to have shut him up.
"Very well," Snape picked the Prophet again. "There is some Muggle money in the first drawer-"
"I don't need your money," Hermione said rather tartly. "I have money enough to look after my needs."
Without waiting for a response, she went back to the guest room. Hermione changed into her Muggle clothes—a blue jeans and a cream sweatshirt. She laced up her trainers and somehow managed to tie her bushy hair into a ponytail. Hermione tucked her wand into her sleeve and grabbed her wallet that had Muggle money and a Muggle A.T.M. card. There was still her parents' bank accounts and her house to sort out, including their clinic. But she was not ready to step into the legalities yet.
She went down before she could change her mind.
"Miss Granger." Snape interrupted her before she could get to the door.
He held out a wristwatch to her. "It is a Portkey," he said. "If you find yourself in danger, double tap on it with your wand or your hand, and say 'Home'. You will find yourself here."
Hermione looked at the proffered watch with scrutiny before taking it. She wore it, noticing it to be quite worn and to be men's. Even tucking the pin into the very last hole in the strap had the watch quite loose on her wrist. When she had it on, Snape nodded, mostly to himself.
Hermione turned to leave again but stopped. She looked at Snape, "This is not home."
With that, she left, shutting the door behind herself.
UUUUUU
Severus watched as the girl left the house.
Indeed, it was not home—it was not even his home. It was just the house he stayed in when Hogwarts was closed.
What was home, anyway? He did not even know what could be considered as one.
The Granger residence, he remembered, was suitable to be called as one. The walls had been adorned with family photographs. Some walls housed elaborate paintings indicating somebody's deep interest and knowledge in the field; vases held fresh flowers, bookmarked books sat on the armrests of chairs, the coat hanger had overcoats and shawls hung on it. Granger's room in her house narrated a story of a well-read girl. Shelves of books, fiction and non-fiction, Muggle Science and Healing Magic, Mathematics and Arithmancy. All shelved according to their sizes in different racks. A window-seat that still had a blanket draped over, two bowls of food and water for her familiar, hair ties idly sitting on bedside cabinets.
There were personal touches in every corner. Maybe, that was home.
His house? Severus snorted. He had not even bothered to change the bloody curtains since his Mother died. A quick Cleaning Charm was all it took.
He waved the mundane thoughts away. He had more important issues to invest his time in than finding himself a home.
UUUUUUU
It didn't take Hermione much time to find the shops. She had ventured through the locality, taking in the houses and people, the school and the playground, before reaching the shops. Children were playing on the swings while some older ladies sat on benches knitting, somebody was walking their stubborn Golden Retriever, two man were leaving their house in an old model of Sedan, probably carpooling. Not posh but it was a likeable neighborhood.
Hermione bought some essentials from a medical store, like a pack of Aspirin and a box of tampons. The same shop also had a cosmetic counter from where she picked a bottle of body moisturiser that she preferred and one bottle of shampoo and conditioner each. Some Muggle habits she could never give up. She could not bring herself to use their Wizarding counterparts. She paid the girl at the counter who was probably doing a part-time job and was in High School. She looked bored and replied to Hermione's Good Day with an incoherent mumble.
Hermione did not have much else to purchase. But she did not want to return so soon, or ever if it were upto her.
Spotting a bookstore, she quickly made her way to it. It was not too huge if she compared it with some book stores at Diagon Alley, but it did contain a slew of books. The place was well-lit and the musty smell of books was enticing.
She roamed around the Science section and chose a couple of books on Human Anatomy. She decided to attain as much knowledge as possible before beginning her Apprenticeship. Rounding the corner, she also chose a couple of books from on Pharmacology. She knew she was required to study Potions but knowledge was never wasted, she believed. With those four books, she went to the counter to bill in the selected books. The elderly man took the books with a kind smile, making her bill.
"Are you a medical student?" He asked.
"I will soon to beginning my medical education, Sir," Hermione replied politely.
He gave her an amused look. "You are not from here, are you?"
"No, I am not," she said.
"You don't sound like you are, with all the honourifics," he put the books into a brown-papar bag.
"I am actually from London," Hermione told him. She did not know what place she was in, but it was not London, for sure.
"Oh, that explains it," he handed her the bill. "I, myself, was born in London. I came to Manchester when I was Eighteen."
Oh, so she was in Manchester.
Hermione took out the money from her wallet and gave it to the man. "Are you a resident of the neighborhood, Sir?" She asked in general, starved for a decent conversation.
"I am," he nodded, fishing into the drawer for the change. "And you?"
Hermione took the change from him. "I am...here for the summer."
"Visiting with relatives?" He asked.
"Umm...something like that," she shrugged, keeping the money back inside the wallet.
"If you need anymore books on the medical stuff, I can order them for you," he offered. "I used to do it all the time for my daughter. She is in the Medical school, too."
"Oh, that's great," she gave him a small smile. Then thought it prudent to ask, "Which college, if you don't mind telling?"
"Brighten and Sussex," he replied with a grin of pride. "She's a hardworking student, really."
Hermione thought about how his grin resembled with what her Dad used to give when talking about his daughter's achievements. But even when she would become a Healer, she would have nobody to boast about her.
"Are you alright, child?" The man's words made her realise of a tear that was rolling down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, feeling embarrassed. Thankfully, there was nobody else around to watch.
"Oh, yes..." She mumbled. "Sorry, I just... I was just missing my father..."
"I can understand," he nodded, his voice holding no judgement. "My girl keeps calling from her boarding and telling me how homesick she feels. But I can't ask her to come back. Career is important."
"Yes, it is," she mumbled.
"But talking helps," he said. "It's always good to hear her voice. Why don't you call your father, too? If you don't have a phone, you can use the one hear. I don't charge."
"Thanks a lot, but...I don't think I can call him," she said past the lump in her throat. "Anyway, it was good talking to you, Sir."
"Same here," he smiled kindly. "Are you sure you are alright?"
"Oh, no, no, I'm fine," Hermione managed a casual tone. "I didn't have many people to converse with recently."
"You are always welcome," he said politely. "Have a nice day."
"You, too." Hermione exited the shop with a little dip of her head.
She felt embarrassed still, but the man reminded her of her father. It felt familiar, and familiarity was comforting. Especially after having lived in seclusion, sharing a house with Snape.
She checked her watch. She had been out only for an hour. She walked around nonchalantly, with nowhere specific to go.
A pink signboard caught her attention. 'Cakes and Bakes' it read. A bakery, she assumed.
Perhaps, she could do with some coffee. Hermione went inside the bakery. Her mouth started watering as the mixed aroma of coffee and cheese entered her nostrils and her stomach rumbled loudly, embarrassing her again.
The bakery-cum-cafe was mostly empty except for a few teenagers occupying a table and two couples. Hermione sat in a corner, on a table that was for two. Looking around, she felt a little awkward as everybody had company, but for her.
'Hello, Dear,' a woman, around Madam Pomfrey's age attended her. "What would you like to have?"
'Hello,' Hermione replied as the woman handed her a menu card. Hermione quickly looked through it and ordered a Cappuccino.
"Anythin' else?" she asked. When Hermione shook her head, the woman went inside what seemed to be the kitchen.
She looked around and caught sight of a teenage couple, drinking from the same glass with two straws, eyes in eyes and hands in hands. That was too 'lovy-dovy' for her liking, not to mention the naked disrespect for table manners. The guy started moving his hand up the girl's arm, smirking.
Hermione quickly averted her gaze to the other side, blankly staring at the door. That was private, not for anyone to watch, even if the couple was comfortable in public.
She could never take such gestures in—maybe that was the reason it never worked with Viktor. He was too...'public' for her taste. Hermione was more reserved. He had once tried to kiss in her front of his parents when she had visited with him at Bulgaria after her Fourth year. There, she had known that it wouldn't work.
"Anybody takin' orders here?" A guy was calling from behind her. Hermione turned to address him. "The lady has just gone inside that door."
"Only one waiter?" One of his companion laughed mockingly. "Some business they're running."
The woman quickly rushed out with Hermione's coffee. Hermione thanked her to which she nodded politely, and went to attend the boys on the table behind her. Hermione watched as she took the order from the group of guys. She realised that the poor woman was short on staff.
An idea popped into her head. Could she...?
Well, not that she had much to do this summer. The Muggle locality was apparently safe enough. She had worked at a Departmental Store last year, so it would not be too difficult. And she would have a distraction from her thoughts.
Hermione finished her coffee and approached the counter. The woman gave her the bill which Hermione paid with a suppressed snort of surprise. The local bakeries and cafes were too inexpensive when compared to the branded ones in London.
"Umm, Ma'am?" She said hesitantly.
The woman looked up at her in surprise. "Ma'am?" She chuckled, but without any malice. "Just call me Mrs. Frost or better yet, Casie. I'm no Queen, Dear."
"Alright, Mrs. Frost," she corrected herself with a small smile. "I noticed that you might be in need of staff here?"
"Oh, yes, I am," she nodded, a little sadly. "But I can't hire right now... I had to sack my waitress, you know. Saving money for my Timmy's surgery..."
"Oh?"
It seemed that Mrs. Frost, too, had no company to confide in. "Yes, Timmy's arm all got mangled in that accident. No insurance cover, that's already all gone! So saving up."
Hermione nodded empathically, although not understanding why the insurance was of no help. She knew better than to challenge Muggle concepts. "I was wondering...if I can work here, for the summer?" She asked. "I don't want any wages."
Mrs. Frost looked at her with amusement. "You're having a laugh, aren't you?"
"No, I am serious," she said earnestly. "I have shifted here for the summer, and have nothing else to do... And I can assure you that I had taken a summer job last year at a Departmental Store. Though I cannot cook, I can assist you with taking order and accounting. I can also help you with brewing coffee and tea."
The lady chuckled. "Well, who am I to refuse help for free? If you really like, do join me, but then don't ask for any salary later."
"I won't," Hermione nodded, with a small smile tugging at her lips. "By the way, I am Hermione Granger. Please call me Hermione."
"Okay, Hermione," she smiled. "I open from Eleven to Seven. Lunch break at One, that's on me."
"That's great," Hermione nodded. "Can I come from tomorrow, then?"
"Yes, yes, sure," Mrs. Frost agreed, not even bothering with an id. These people, Hermione realised, lived in a closely-knitted community and trusted easily.
Hermione exited the cafe with relief, having found a decent distraction for her mind. She would be done with her 'duties' at Snape's house before leaving for her new job. She could do her reading after returning from the bakery. Like that, she would have time away from the man, and not too alone. It would also be good to help the kind old lady. Being among Muggles and that too strangers would mean that nobody would keep asking her about how she was doing or feeling.
The summer was meant to be long, and she had successfully found something to keep herself busy with.
UUUUUUU
Granger had come down for breakfast earlier than usual, the next day. She had returned safely the day before, not that the neighborhood was a threat. No Death Eater was aware of his adobe, expect Narcissa, but she would keep her mouth shut. After all, she was burdened with many favours that he had bestowed upon her in the past.
The watch that Severus had given the girl was his own old one. He had made a portkey of it, in case something unexpected was to happen. He was surprised to see it still on her wrist. Granger was also dressed in Muggle clothes, again. He wondered if she was going out again.
The elves sent the meal to the table as she came down. She had it in silence, like always. Granger did the washing and cleaning after that, mindful of her clothes. Severus was sure she was going somewhere. But as long as she wore the watch, he had neither a reason nor a will to deny. In fact, stepping out more would do her some good. Severus had hardly seen her out of her room except in the mornings. It was a sign that she was willing to open up to people once more.
"I will be back after Seven," she announced suddenly.
"After Seven?" He questioned with narrowed eyes.
"I have taken up a part-time job," she declared.
Severus raised his eyebrows. "You have what?"
"It's a common practice among Muggles," she said. He knew how teenagers liked to work along with their studies going on. He had never condoned it. In his opinion, one needed proper vocational skills before taking a job.
"At Cakes and Bakes," she revealed rather reluctantly, it seemed. "The bakery around the corner."
"Miss Granger," he said, trying to keep the usual bitterness out of his tone. "We have yet to discuss your finances. I will be responsible for your-"
"Firstly," she interrupted him rudely, "I have a standing enough to look after my finances, thanks to my parents. You are in no way responsible to any of my needs. Secondly, I am not doing it for money, anyway. I have other reasons, that I am not telling you." 'You' had derision dripping from it. "Lastly, I am not asking. Only informing."
"You do realise that interacting with the Muggles might compromise your safety, girl!" Severus growled, unable to tolerate the headstrong girl's idiocy anymore.
"Oh, and how, may I know?" She crossed her arms in front of her.
"One slip of tongue, you daft girl," he hissed. "Did it not occur to you that these pestering Muggles will have questions as to why you are staying here, with me?"
"So you fear for your own reputation," she snorted tartly. "Don't worry, Sir, I will not go around telling people what an astounding killer lives among them, or how I ended up here."
Killer. Severus mentally winced every time she referred to him as that. "No, you shortsighted, foolish girl, I am referring to you being tracked down by the Death Eaters. Narcissa Malfoy knows my address. The Dark Lord might send spies down here, to keep an eye on the arrangement that we are compelled into. How would it look if the Dark Lord gets to know that I am allowing my- I am allowing you to work among the Muggles?"
"Allowing?" She spat. "I am sure you can come up with a believable story to tell your compeers if they did find me working in a small bakery, in a random town. As if your Master will bother to send spies after his most loyal servant."
"Well, Miss Granger, you will be appalled to know but my Master can very well stoop to that," he sneered, irked.
"Then, put some Death Eater-Repellent-Ward or something around here, for all I care," she retorted. "I cannot stay locked up in that room for a day more without losing my sanity!"
To be honest, that idea was, in fact, beneficial. He could use his own Dark Mark to get notified if the others who bore one entered the town.
"Even the wards will take a day or two to be successfully-"
"I said, I cannot care less," she announced. "I am going out and I will not return before Seven. If you want to personally play the bodyguard, be my guest. But I am not taking orders from you."
When Severus thought about the past five years he had taught the girl, she had been nothing but exasperatingly respectful, if one were to ignore the debacle at the Shrieking Shack. He wondered if that was a show all along? Despite his scathing remarks to her, she had never been disrespectful or insolent.
But he was not the Professor whom she had once respected. He was a 'killer'. The murderer of her parents. That was the right way to address a killer, he imagined.
As Severus did not respond to her last comment, Granger assumed the conversation to be over. With a disdainful glare in his direction, she left the house.
UUUUUUU
Hermione tried to take deep breaths to calm her temper. She wanted to make herself feel better, thinking about the man would not do it at all. Throughout her walk to the bakery, she kept telling herself the same. As she reached the bakery, she left the anger outside and stepped in confidently.
It was absolutely empty but for Mrs. Frost who was arranging the muffins in the showcase. As she entered, the lady looked up at her. "Oh, hello, Dear. Do come in."
"Hello, Mrs. Frost," Hermione greeted.
"You can keep your purse inside," she gestured at the door that Hermione assumed to be the kitchen. "I'll explain you the accounting."
Hermione understood everything with ease and got settled quickly. When guests came, she took their orders, while Mrs. Frost prepared the dishes inside. Hermione was also responsible for the check or if a customer chose anything from the showcase.
Most of the ones who visited were teenagers. Mrs. Frost told her that most of them liked to bunk their school to be here with their 'special someone'—as she had said.
A few children, too, came to buy sweets and Hermione was reminded of Honeydukes.
At One, they ate lunch together. Mrs. Frost had cooked meat pies, and they were delicious. The lady told Hermione about Timmy, her grandson, and Minny, her granddaughter. The two kids lived with her since their mother had left them and Mrs. Frost's son had moved in with his new wife, who was not treating the children well. So she had taken them in. By the way she talked, Hermione gathered that the lady adored the kids.
When asked about herself, Hermione told her that as her parents were gone to a foreign country for the summer, for work, she was staying with a 'family friend'. She did not mentioned Snape's name at all.
After lunch, the man from the bookstore also visited for a snack. Hermione had had a light conversation with him before he left. All the Muggles seemed harmless and amenable, save for a few pestilential teenagers who had made a ruckus in the cafe, arguing with one another.
Mrs. Frost had filled her up with the information that nobody liked that particular group in the town (that was named, Cokeworth, as the lady had let it slip in one or the other of her anecdotes). The gang had reminded her of Malfoy and her cronies.
By the end of the day, Hermione was relatively in a better headspace. She felt more alive than she had felt in weeks. She had even allowed herself to laugh at one or two of Mrs. Frost's stories of her grandchildren.
She left the bakery by quarter past Seven, after saying her goodbye to the lady. On her way, she also gave a small wave to the man at the bookstore (Mr. Mallard) from the window.
It was quite surprising that she was getting along with people with such ease, Hermione thought. She had never been good with making friends. But she had always gotten on well with people elder to her. She would actually prefer hearing about the complications in Timmy's surgery rather than Lavender's chatter about her new Ravenclaw crush. Her Mum had always said that Hermione was mature for her age, thus the reason she liked that kind of company more.
Hermione made her way back in no hurry at all. She mentally planned what all she could read tonight before sleeping, and what notes could she prepare from the Muggle books on Pharmacology.
Snape opened the door shortly after she had rung the doorbell. Hermione did not want to spoil her day, so she went directly to the guest room, completely ignoring the man, to start on her reading.
UUUUUUU
Severus had spent the entire day at the sodding bakery, under a strong Disillusionment Charm, keeping an eye on the girl.
He had observed every single person who had entered the small cafe with his sharp eyes. It would take one more day for the wards to settle around. Until then, he was doomed to keep an eye on everything himself.
Granger had chatted with the garrulous old woman as if she were her long lost grandmother, catching up after years. The girl had apparently also made 'friends' with the man who ran the bookstore nearby. Not two days stepping out and Granger had already started building relationships with the people whom he had never even talked to, despite having lived there for nearly four decades.
Even as a child, Severus could hardly interact with people much. His only friend there had been Lily, that too because of her own bonhomie. Even to this day, he was just as miserable at making conversations without a sardonic remark.
But Granger, he thought, should have been a Hufflepuff. She seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the banal job. Severus could not understand what fortune would she even make of that job for which she was willing to work for eight hours!
He then followed her to his house, wincing when she had waved to the man in the store. Such a saccharine-Hufflepuff gesture. When the girl was close to the house, Severus had Apparated himself inside, and opened the door when she had rung the bell.
By the next day, the wards would be settled, and he would not have to keep on with the painstaking job of tolerating people around him.
This witch, he was sure, would drive him insane.
A/N: Some of my work friends whom I had asked to read my story told me that they find Hermione toooooo aggrieved about her parents. Well, to them I will say: HER PARENTS WERE KILLED. IN FRONT OF HER VERY EYES. I mean, how else would one react to it? Laugh it off? Yes, my version of Hermione loved her parents, I think every child does (except a few reasonable cases). I have read stories where I felt that death of a close relative was more or less downplayed, I don't want to be one of those authors. So please, don't tell me that her love was unhealthy for her Mum and Dad. It's perfectly reasonable in my eyes.
Or maybe it's because when I was writing, I myself was quite homesick due to the whole lockdown situation...
Next chapter will have more interaction between Severus and Hermione (good or bad, you decide after reading), and maybe Hermione will make a few discoveries about Severus... :P
And I don't know why the last chapter did not get much of a response... Please guys, show some love. I keep checking my mail for reviews and it's disappointing not to find any... That said, thanks a lot to those who do leave a review and enjoy reading! :)