Chapter 7 - Finding Hermione

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don't recognize.

A/N: A huge hug and many thanks go to my brilliant beta Ramos, without whom I doubt that this story would have ever been done.

And many thanks also go to all the people who lent their support by reviewing this piece.  You are terrific!!!

With a glad cry, Hermione ran over to where Remus had entered the garden and gave him a big hug.  His long arms tightened around her briefly before he pulled back.

"How are you, Hermione?" he said searching her face.  At his side,  Shaggy whined, although whether it was concern or protest, she could not tell. "Now, now, no complaining.  In fact, I should be the one complaining about you."  Remus patted the head of the familiar that had wrapped itself around Iolanthe's legs.

"Shaggy figured out how to get past the wards to our bedroom around 4 AM last night and snuck into bed with us.  Remus threw him out again."  Iolanthe stood up and kissed her fiancé quite soundly.  "Hermione has been absolutely astounding me with her accomplishments.  She reads auras and now we're wondering if she can indeed see into the future."

"Did she mention her ability to avoid death by Unforgivable?" asked Remus.

"That was really Draco's doing last night," insisted Hermione quietly.

Iolanthe stamped her foot and sat down.  "Oh, that's it!  I'm hanging up my hat and leaving the business.  Young lady, you have been the ruination of me.  Come here."  Hermione did as she was bid and sat down opposite the older witch as she took off her glasses, which Hermione noted were darkly tinted from the inside.  Iolanthe hummed tunelessly as she began to scan the younger witch.  "There.  I found it.  You compartmentalize your feelings and then intellectualize and repress them.  Eventually they all spill over, but in the meantime, I am left playing the fool with you. Very well.  Now that Remus is here, we can proceed."

"I don't understand," Hermione protested.

"Well, of course you don't.  I haven't explained myself at all, have it?"  Iolanthe gave another half-laugh.  "Let's all sit down and have our tea."

Hermione was beginning to know what Alice at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party had felt like, especially when Iolanthe turned to Remus and said, with complete aplomb, "Dearest, Hermione was just explaining to me that during the soul mating she was privy to Prof. Snape's entire life."

"The deuce you say?  Well, that would have anyone run screaming out into the night, I imagine." replied Remus looking from one witch to the other as Iolanthe calmly took a sip of tea before continuing.

"Now, Hermione  -- can you remember the last words he spoke to you in this vision or whatever?"

"Yes, I can. He said, 'I love you'."

"The exact words that you repeated to him in the pensieve."

"NO.  I told you before.  I never said that.  I was angry.  I yelled at him.  After all, he didn't seem to have a clue as to what had just happened.  How dare he blame me for him startling me."  Large tears began to roll down Hermione's face.  Her breath was ragged.  "Imagine going through someone else's entire life and then to get chewed out as if you were a five year old. Loving him was the last thing on my mind."

"And yet it came from your lips.  You were unconscious of it, because I believe it was the last of the imprint, the record, from his soul to yours.  If, as you have been insisting, that it was as straight forward as some fatalists believed, there would have been no such discrepancy between your recollection and Snape's."  Iolanthe sat back.

"That's it?"  Hermione was still trying to follow Iolanthe's logic.  "I'm not sure that I understand."

"His soul was trying to get a message across.  In spite of what was happening in the present moment, in spite of Snape being unaware of what had passed between you two, his soul, call it his higher consciousness, was reaching out attempting to manipulate you."

Hermione shook her head. "There you go again.  Why should you call communication manipulation?"

"Because more than a mating, it was a seduction.  He shows you a pretty picture of a possible future and then you spend the rest of your life jumping through his hoops."

"You are wrong."  Hermione tried to not sound irritated, but really--

"Very well then.  Prove it to me. Today should be a rather interesting day in the life of Prof. Snape.  Remus just returned from a meeting at Hogwarts.  Can you tell me, using Snape's recollection, what occurred?"

Hermione looked blank for a second, and then her face went white with horror.  "Prof. Dumbledore betrayed him.  First the abandonment by choosing to go away in a few weeks, sticking him with the headmasters position, and then, after all the work he'd done to find replacements…

Hermione turned to Lupin with shock.  "He's been afraid of you since he was a teenager.  He still has nightmares of you.  And you are the new DADA teacher!  Hired by Albus Dumbledore." 

Staring at the ground, for a moment her face crumbled, but then with no little effort she pulled herself together.  "Even worse, Harry's Godfather, Sirius Black is the new Transfigurations professor.  Someone who has never taught a single day in his life!  He's hurting and Prof. Dumbledore had blamed it all on Snape not being able to find good enough teachers."

Lupin looked chagrinned.  "Well, our Hermione seems to have done it again.  That was my news.  I've been hired."  He looked at Viola and smiled weakly.  "It seems certain members of the Iolanthe clan have been putting pressure on the Board of Directors to re-hire me at Hogwarts.  I suppose they want to see me able to support you."

"I wouldn't say that.  Once we are married, you wouldn't need to work another day of your life.  We are actually quite embarrassingly well off.  You don't have to accept the job, we can just sit around and do," Iolanthe blushed, "whatever all day.  I think this was more of what my family considers evening the score.  They are really and truly sorry about how they treated you, and they just want to make things good again."

"They are killing me with kindness," Lupin said nervously.

Iolanthe shrugged her shoulders.  "It wouldn't be the first time."

"And what about Sirius?" asked Hermione.

"That was Hooch's doing," said Remus.  "She felt Sirius deserved to have a better job than bussing tables in Hogsmeade.  I think Albus agreed with her.  To his credit, Padfoot did get top marks in his transfiguration N.E.W.T.s."

"In light of these revelations, my dear, I really must request a copy of that scroll you told me about."  Iolanthe coughed.  "If indeed this is all fated to pass, then I will need to published Gods only knows how many retractions.  Mind you, this is only theory.  There may be something else at work, which we haven't even been able to imagine, yet.  We shall have to track this very carefully."  She tapped one of her elaborately charmed nails on the table.  The birds in the design gave out an annoyed "tweet".

"I don't care about that.  I care about Severus.  He's miserable.  He's…" Hermione put her hand to her mouth.  "I have to leave right now.  I'm about to receive an owl."

Remus cleared his throat.  "I'm very sorry about Snape being upset over all this."  He gave Hermione an awkward hug, as she stood up to leave.

"Before you go, I'd like to grant you my blessing, if you will accept it."  Iolanthe seemed much calmer that she'd been a few seconds ago.  She'd had her say on the matter and Hermione was quite free to take or not take her advice.

Hermione nodded and came closer to Iolanthe's chair.  Iolanthe stood, raised her hands and placed them a few inches away from Hermione.   As she closed her eyes, Hermione felt a gentle breeze caressing her.  It was scented with balsam.  She heard Iolanthe's voice, chanting in some old language that sounded more like bells than words.  Suddenly she was no larger than a mote of dust, flying up into the air and dancing in a shaft of sunlight.  A dark primeval pine forest surrounded her, whispering to her.  She felt light and free.  Too soon, far too soon, she gently dropped back into her body.

"There you are, girl.  Back to us, safe and sound.  Well, since I may be joining Sibyl's happy little band of soothsayers soon, let me make a prediction.  I think everything will turn out well.  It won't be easy, but a young woman with your determination and sensibility will succeed where all others have only strife and failure."

Hermione quickly thanked the older witch and walked from the garden, her heart lighter even though she was still not sure of  her decision.   In the background she heard the two lovers passionately discuss the pros and cons of allowing Shaggy to sleep in the bedroom closet.

&&&

A large Hoot Owl was waiting for Hermione at her flat.  She took the note from it and gave it a digestive biscuit.  "Sorry old boy, no bacon today."  The owl made an obscene sound and flew off.  Hermione already knew that it had taken Snape a half bottle of fire whiskey to compose the note.  She already knew what it said.  She opened it anyway.  It contained a very polite apology and a request for her help.  But Hermione knew better.  If one read between the lines, it went more like this:

Dear Miss Granger,

Blah, blah, I'm sorry.  Blah, blah, blah, I'm very sorry.  Blah, blah blah, blah, I'm truly very sorry.  Blah, blah, I'm a horrible person.  Blah, blah, blah, I couldn't find a potions replacement to assume my position, so I require an assistant to help me in potions.  Blah, blah, blah,

Your eternal doormat,

Prof. Severus Snape, acting headmaster of Hogwarts.

Tears of anger welled up in Hermione's eyes.  She didn't want him to be sorry.  She wanted him to yell a bit about her disappearance, worrying the staff, her friends, etc, and even yell a bit more about how she was a stupid girl for not wearing the glove. After all he had been right and she was wrong.

She stroked the letter, feeling the residual vibrations from the clean up spell that he'd used for all the blots and cross outs on the parchment caused by his drinking.

She also felt angry with him for allowing himself to be so reduced and beaten down.  She began to rip up the missive, allowing the anger to flow freely through her body.  Something inside her seemed to shake loose along with the anger and the tears.  She gasped and held herself rocking on the floor, and finally was in touch with what she had lost: herself.

Her feelings about Snape and her memories of what she had felt and thought of him before that one fateful evening, when somehow his soul had captured hers, came rushing back to her.

She remembered how it was last September.  Her fear and resentment of him had caused her to tremble when she learned that she was to assist him in brewing up special batches of medicines and anti-hex formulas in anticipation of the rumored attacks planned on Hogwarts by Voldemort.

She remembered how after the first few sessions in the dungeons his vileness had melted away.  During their sessions together, she discovered that he was not the evil tyrant she'd always thought he was.

She remembered how by Christmas she knew she had developed a schoolgirl crush on him and was determined not to ruin things by giving rein to her feelings.  Then came the days of the war and Severus' capture and rescue.  She borrowed Harry's cloak and sat by his bedside after he'd been retrieved from the dungeons of the Malfoy Estate.  She had sat there, invisible, just holding his hand and willing him to be better.

She remembered her joy and contentment when he was finally able to resume his duties, and her delight when she was requested to continue to assist him even though there was no longer a war.

At that time, she hadn't wanted anything else but to quietly brew potions in his presence.  She didn't ask for love or affection or tenderness.  She didn't care if he even knew that she was alive.  To work beside him was enough. 

The soul mating had horrified her.  His childhood and adolescent pain became hers.  She experienced his taking of the dark mark at the behest of his lover, Narcissa, who then turned on him.  She had mocked him and his failures as a lover.  She had laughed and returned to the man she really loved, Lucius.  Tricked into giving himself to the Dark Lord, he never trusted another woman until Hermione.

She now knew what it was like to be both a Death Eater and a spy for the Light.  She felt pride for him where he only had self-contempt.  She understood how much he had done and sacrificed to make amends.  And though he would never forgive himself, she forgave him everything.

Total absolution was not easily given.  He could be petty and cruel, self-indulgent and then self-mortifying in turns.  Very often he directed his pain outward and lashed out at students and faculty alike.  And she knew he had been drowning before she came into his life.

She remembered watching herself through his eyes their first time making love.  She felt his joy when he finally accepted that she would not betray him.  But that trust had been hard won through literally years of his indecisiveness and angst.

She watched through his eyes as she sweated, moaned and screamed in childbirth.  She saw herself grow old through his eyes.  She watched herself at his deathbed, crying quietly and holding his hand, surrounded by loving children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

She had suffocated then.  Choked on a surfeit of information, she locked it all up inside of her and ran.  Running from her fate perhaps was a stupid thing to do, but her instinct had given her heels wings and so she flew.

All the puzzle pieces were now in place.  Knowing what she needed to do, she prepared for battle.  She decided on her wardrobe and hairstyle, but most of all, she marshaled her arguments of what she wanted from him and why.  She wasn't sure if this were to be a war of wits or a skirmish of the boudoir.    Tomorrow was the fateful day and she felt no assurance of success-- her memories having faded in so many places that even though she knew had to go from point a to b she had no recollection of how she'd actually done it.  She was scared but she knew she needed to confront and win him.

&&&

Severus Snape felt like a deep-sea fish that had been forced to the surface of the ocean. There was no sanctity left to his dungeons.  House elves with questions on the running of Hogwarts would pop in on him whether he was in the shower or on the loo.  Over the weeks, even with the end of the spring semester and summer break, there was no let up.  His herbs grew moldy from not being hung to properly dry. Pomfrey, not yet off to her new career, was reminding him two to three times a day that she was out of everything.  There were owls everywhere.

One morning in late August, the day after the shock of learning that both Lupin and Black were to be at Hogwarts that Fall, things went from merely horrid to beyond bearable. 

There were fifteen owls waiting for him in the dungeons and a further half dozen house elves.  A small mouse made the singularly poor choice to enter the area.  An owl feeding frenzy erupted, injuring several elves that were unable to get out in time.

Snape had taken one long look at the feather-strewn mess that his dungeon had become and made an abrupt about-face, walking away without conscious thought of his destination.   His feet took him towards his private bolt hole, a small side door which led him straight out of the castle.  A well-paced dirt track led him down the slope toward the lake.  He began to pick up speed as he unbuttoned his frockcoat, and he had it completely off by the time he entered the overgrown path around the lake that he had known so well in his boyhood.  By the time he had reached the hidden promontory over the lake, the jacket was dragging in the dirt behind him, along with his neck-cloth and not a few buttons had been lost on the path.

He was going to do something that he hadn't done since his last year as a student at Hogwarts.  He was going to sunbathe, or 'catch some rays' as the students said these days.

When he reached what used to be his secret, special place he could only sneer at the sight that greeted him.  There on the rock was painted 'Harry loves Ginny' and 'Draco and Pansy 4ever'.  His lower lip trembled with suppressed rage as he removed his wand and erased the graffiti.  Unceremoniously ripping his vest and shirt over his shoulders, he knelt on the ground, bundled the cloth into a wad and put it under his head.  Stretching out his long arms, he lay like an alter sacrifice on the hard ground.

Every bone on his rib cage was peaking out.  Normally lean, he was now rail thin after a spring and summer of non-stop harassment.  About the only improvement in him was that his sallow skin was now a pure, fish-belly white because he hadn't had the chance to work with any toxic herbs in months. His normally overtaxed liver was much healthier for the break.

Lying there, his wretched and overwrought body was soothed by the sun-warmed rock beneath him as well as by the bright rays as the sun rose higher in the sky.  Breathing deeply, he felt the tension begin to melt into the granite under him.  There was the sound bird song and the drone of insects.  He was finally alone and it was good.

Inevitably, he fell asleep, and sleeping, began to dream.  In this bucolic, peaceful setting, he was not surprised when his unconscious mind summoned the form of Hermione Granger.  This fantasy image leaned over him, brushing his lips with her own, gentle touches that slowly deepened into soft, lingering kisses, his passion for her as serene as the surroundings.  And then he woke, to find Hermione still hovering over him, her lips swollen with the kisses they'd shared.

"It's a good thing I came along," she said with a smile.  "You are turning lobster red."  She took his hand in hers, while holding a button in the other, and they vanished.

He winked back into existence on a bed in what looked to be a student's digs.  Her rooms, he surmised, as Dumbledore had told him that she'd be going up to Cambridge early. 

He tried to put some menace in his voice, but what came out seemed to squeak a bit.  "What is the meaning of this Miss Granger?  I'm a busy man.  I don't have time..."

"Oh quite right," she interrupted calmly.  "That's why you were snoozing up on that rock.  Quite.  Well, you and I have some business to discuss.  I believe you had requested my ongoing assistance even though I am no longer a student at Hogwarts." 

In contrast to her professional tone, her eyes slid down to his reddened chest.  "You know, you are very red.  Accio Aloe Vera Gel."  Her fine-boned hands pushed him back down on the bed.  "Just lay back for a moment."  Ignoring his speechless embarrassment, Hermione applied the unguent to his chest, making him gasp as the soothing cool gel spread over his inflamed skin. 

The gasp might have also contained a touch of panic as he realized that it felt perhaps a little too good.  Her hands on his bare chest were arousing him.  No woman had touched him in years.  He attempted to get up from the bed and made it as far as sitting up.  He felt rather dizzy.

Hermione hid a small smile as she watched his aura changed from a platonic turquoise to amorous lavender.  Her new talent was helping her find the courage to continue, even as he sputtered and attempted to stop her.

"Miss Granger, this is highly unorthodox.  I really must return..."

"Not before we have completed our negotiations."

"You have me at a disadvantage."

"Yes, I suppose I do.  Now, in your letter you mentioned that you needed an assistant."

It was nearly comical to watch Severus attempt to regain his equilibrium and answer her comment.  "Why, yes, I do."  It was not often a Hogwarts' employment negotiation occurred while the Headmaster was half-naked, lying on a bed.  And if it did, Hermione really didn't want to know about it.

"Well.  Considering our past relationship, I felt it best if we were to hammer out our terms before I accepted your offer."

"That's perfectly understandable," Snape said with a nod and a trace of his normal confidence. 

"Now.  First of all, because I do not wish any aspersions cast about my character or innuendoes as to why I am helping you, I need it to be very clear to the rest of the world that you only hired me because I am your fiancée and you wished to keep a close eye on me."  She inwardly smiled at the complete reversal of logic.  However, she knew in the Wizarding World this was quite true.  Only by allowing people to think the worst would they ever get past the scandal.  The more they protested their innocence, the more gossip there would be.

Severus Snape sat up abruptly, despite her nearness.  "WHAT!  Miss Granger!  What kind of cruel joke are you playing?  I don't deserve this treatment." His aura flickered with unease and pain, shot through with disbelief as he tried to deny how her words and proximity had affected him.  Perhaps he thought she was insane, and Hermione could not deny that, from his perspective, her behavior had been very odd of late.

"Oh, you shall get all you deserve, and more so.  Yes, I do wish to marry you, but there are some conditions.  One -- you must never apologize to me again, unless you are quite sure you are in the wrong.  I shouldn't have taken off those gloves while cutting that toxic substance; I might have died.  You were right and I--I messed up.  Feel free to be nasty, perhaps not all the time but at least when you believe I am not living up to my full potential.  Also, you must not forget to sneer and be very arrogant, especially around other people."  She took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. 

He felt his heart pounding like a hippogriff trying to escape a cage.  "Sneer, yes, I think I could do that."  He wondered if he was suffering from sun poisoning and was in fact still at Hogwarts in a delirium.

"Good." Hermione dropped his hand and then settled herself behind him.  Those delicate looking hands began to massage the cording at the base of his neck.

Snape began to protest, but his words were lost when she released a knot that left him gasping in relief.  It was several long minutes before he could gather his thoughts and ask her a question.  "Why, may I ask, would you want to marry someone like me?  I'm old, ugly, have a horrid disposition and did wretched things as both a Death Eater and as a spy."  Good Gods, does that neck massage feel good, he thought.  He tried not to moan as she released another knot and failed.

"I don't wish to insult you," he continued, "but the Snape fortune is gone and I have a definite reputation as a lousy lay."

Hermione snorted.  ermHH"Well, it's not about sex, nor money, either.  Maybe it's about the way you walk, and the way you sound, your wit, the artful way you brew potions, and the beauty of your hands.  I want to be with you because you are a complex man and I think you will always be somewhat of a mystery to me no matter how well I think I know you.  And I hope that you will always expect the best of me and I shall do the same for you." 

Her hands paused, and he would have pouted if her next words had not chased all thoughts of neck rubs from his brain.  "I love you, and I want your children."

"Children!"

"Only about a dozen, maybe a baker's dozen.  And not right away, maybe we'll start a decade or so from now."

"Miss Granger, I fear you are overestimating my abilities.  I'm rapidly approaching middle age."  Somehow, he failed to notice he'd gone from protesting the possibility of their marriage, and had instead gone on to the enumeration of their future children.  He did notice, however, when Hermione placed her hand on top of his thigh.  They both noticed his reaction, and with mutual gratification. 

"Oh, I think you're capable of at least a half dozen.  And wizards aren't middle aged until they hit 75, you must have at least another 30 years to go before then."

Severus sighed and thought; yes the world has gone mad, but rather in a delightful way.  "Is there anything else, Miss Granger?  Would you like me to slay a few dragons for you while I'm at it?  You are demanding quite a lot from me to get a potions assistant."

"Well, I don't come cheap, but I'm worth it.  Oh, and you may call me Hermione."  She leaned around him and gently brushed her lips against his ear.

He groaned out, "Hermione, right."  His mouth found hers.  And after a few minutes of bliss, he managed another coherent sentence.   "Well, Hermione.  I have one more question."

Hermione's heart gave a little thump, hoping whatever it was, she'd answer correctly.  "Go ahead."

"Why did you run away?"

She could feel his breath stop as he waited for her to answer, and she didn't need to read his aura to know how important this was to him; her headlong flight had almost literally torn his world apart.  Unfortunately, she didn't think he was quite ready to know just how fully his soul had been exposed, and she sought to give him a truthful answer that would not disconcert him further.  "I felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience.  I mean… when you kissed my hand, that is.  I felt quite sure that I wouldn't be able to keep it to myself and then you might be in trouble.  I suddenly realized just what you meant to me, and how much more I wanted.  That was more than a little frightening to me."

He frowned, confused.  "But, I, we, there was no impropriety.  A kiss on the hand, wasn't…"

"Wasn't sexual?  No, but I suppose there was a certain level of eroticism, though.  You know, Professor, I'm not inexperienced.  Not since the summer I spent with Viktor Krum."

"Victor Krum!" he responded in scathing tones.  "By all that's sacred, he's worse looking than... "  Severus trailed off, not sure how to extricate his foot from his mouth.  After a moment, he continued.  "What I mean to say is, what an interesting taste you have in men, Miss…. I mean Hermione."

When Hermione merely smiled, enjoying his discomfiture.  He muttered under his breath, then slid off the side of the bed and stood up, adjusting his trousers.  He took a few paces one way, and then the other, obviously annoyed at the small size of the room.  Finally, running one hand through his hair, he ceased his pacing and turned to face her.

"Miss Granger?  Hermione?"

"Yes?"

His sneer was textbook Snape.  "Would you marry me?"


After her affirmative answer, the rest of the afternoon was spent in a very long snogging session, complete with gently murmured words of endearment slung every which way.  All too soon, it became obvious that they had reached a point of no return.  Rather than risk a rather embarrassing mess in his clothes, Severus chose to take his leave. 

Even as he assured her of his desire to stay, to continue and even further their current activity, he was gripped by the fear that perhaps he was still high up on that rock, dreaming all this.  Traitorous tears stung his eyes, despite his attempt to hide them.  Somehow, Hermione read his anxiety and wrapped her arms around him, soothing him with whispered assurances and promised that, for the time remaining before her classes began, she would be at Hogwarts everyday, bright and early to help him.   Once she'd finished school, she would be with him forevermore.   He held and kissed her hand before Apparating back to Hogwarts.

Professor Severus Snape staggered into the faculty room.  His hair was mussed; his white shirt was open at the neck exposing wiry black hair and a beet red chest.  His vest was only partially buttoned and the buttons were misaligned at that.  His lips were swollen and bruised beneath his prominent and sunburnt nose.

"By the Gods, man, what has happened to you?  Were you attacked by rogue Death Eaters?" cried Vector's replacement, Madam Whatshername.

"Tea," gasped Snape.

Shaking, he sat down in a wing chair, wincing at abused muscles that he had forgotten he even had.  He accepted a cup from Professor Sprout-Filch.

"So what happened?" asked Hooch. "You look a fright."

"I'm to be married."

There was the sound of a teacup crashing onto the floor.

"Quick, get the man some brandy, he's delirious," cried Binns.

"But to whom, Severus, to whom?" piped in Flitwick.

"Well, it won't happen until after she graduates college, of course."  First one muscle on the side of his face began to twitch and then the other.  And then a sound, ragged and unused and not heard at Hogwarts for over two decades broke forth.  Snape laughed.  Minerva McGonagall felt a shiver down her spine and wondered if hell was about to freeze over as well.  "But then, if she still wants me, I shall be wed to Miss Granger."

"Get Madame Pomfrey, the poor man's lost his mind," murmured Professor Sprout-Filch.

Hooch began to laugh, too.  It was infectious and soon everyone in the faculty room was laughing, clapping the "dirty dog" on the back, making him glad only his chest were burnt, and wishing him luck.  Anyone in the room who had taught Miss Granger in the past seven years knew she was a force of nature and a law unto herself.  If she wanted to be Mrs. Snape, who could gainsay her?  Eventually the teacups were collected and shot glasses brought out.  With a twitch of Flitwick's wand, invisible musicians played and the house elves brought in a feast.  Celebrations went well into the wee hours.

And all had a good time was had by all.

 "One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness."

Albert Camus,

The Myth of Sisyphus, trans. By Justin O'Brien, 1955

The End