Once again the disclaimer: I bow in awe of J.K. Rowling genius. All characters and things in the Harry Potter world are hers. Please do not sue me. I make no money and you would undoubted piss readers off if you delay in continuing the saga as we anxiously await your next book. I have cited other fan fiction articles which have inspired me to incorporate their ideas in this story as well. I encourage you to read them.
This chapter has been updated since the original, this as a result bears a new plot twist. Comments are appreciated! I've tried and tried to look for places that discuss potions ingredients… if you know of a website or source please e-mail me!
Thanks ~ Leyna
Chapter 14: Moving Toward the Inescapable Life
He had worried about her over the years. Lucius was not the kind of man to keep his mouth shut. At his extravagant and depraved house parties, Muggle women were frequently taken to indulge the base desires of Voldemort's followers. Snape often held his breath as they were dragged in, fearing the worst.
Snape had joined the Death Eaters for many reasons, the least of wish was the feeling of power, which was tempting enough for a brilliant but demeaned and unappreciated schoolboy. He was taunted and viciously bullied by schoolmates and his father. Harry had only glimpsed a fraction of the horror of his childhood that day in the Pensieve. Lucius remained one of his only friends in school, but he was wealthy, and pompous. Malfoy used people and knew how to fill Severus's head with the right phrases, carefully measured words, both praise, and seeds of doubt. He had been somewhat subtly and cruelly manipulated by Malfoy, though Snape knew in the end it was his own decision, his alone which chose to follow Voldemort. Snape was not so cowardly as to blame another for his actions.
Malfoy was a more powerful man in Voldemort's circle. Severus feigned his friendship with him over the years, an unnaturally long extension of their childhood camaraderie which had ended with the vile decision to sell himself into a virtual hell. Snape loathed the dark revels. He had participated in the abuse and torture of Muggles before, some of his worst recollections as a Death Eater. As a new initiate he had visualized an image of his father's face, taking revenge out on each one of them for the sins of his father. And James Potter, Sirius Black, anyone who had hurt him. That wore off after a short time, as he saw a schoolmate tortured to death in front of his eyes. He had a hand in his death. Both in the torture of him, and in Snape's own inaction, his failure to bring it to an end. The taunting was not dissimilar to the abuse his father had inflicted on him. But he would not permit himself to participate in the sexual brutality, a painful memory of how cruelly his father had treated his mother. Snape could only then consider himself a little better in comparison to some of his peers. When he finally acknowledged the painful truth of it, that he was the same and worthless, that's when he turned himself in to Dumbledore. His soulless empty shell of a life that old man refused to allow him to throw way in an life sentence at Azkaban prison. He had no idea why Dumbledore felt he had any redeeming qualities. His struggle with the darkness of it was a day to day thing. Not an easy thing to live with. But his life as a spy and teacher was a good a penance as any. Prison was a cowards way out.
Recently, Snape noticed a pattern in the likenesses of the women chosen by Lucius. They were often younger, and students. He found himself worried more than ever for Hermione's safety.
Hermione thankfully kept to herself, but the consequence of that had been that instead of standing out, and making amazing public advances in her field, she had, as an alternative, chosen solitude and refuge in her work. A sacrifice in her young life that the wizarding community should have felt had they been aware of her full potential. He understood all too well.
She had corresponded with him privately over the years. She continued her work on the Wolfsbane potion and her silly fascination with a cure for vampirism. He wasn't surprised. If Miss Granger said she would do something she did it, and well. The only other sign she remained alive was the absence of her name in the Daily Prophet, which reported too many deaths of late.
He once glimpsed her outside of the Ministry building in Muggle London. She wearing professional Muggle attire, long fitted slacks and a blazer. It was a handsome suit even by wizarding standards. Her brown-blonde waves were pulled back in a loose knotted bundle at the nape of her neck. She was a vision of youthful beauty.
Snape was sitting at a local café, and in Muggle wear he doubted she'd recognize him. Hermione greeted an obvious friend, talking animatedly with a handsome man her own age. He was waving two tickets and dancing a little jig of excitement, clearly begging her to go. He noted her apprehension and embarrassed smile as she considered whether or not she would risk attending. She finally nodded and whispered to him. Snape's face filled with concern as he witnessed her fear, she looked both ways down the street and ran into a cab she had hailed. That look.
He approached her remaining friend, and said, "I apologize for overhearing. Is it true you are in a play?"
"Oh, of course. Chicago is playing at the Adelphi Theatre until January 10th. This is this last weekend. It's brilliant musical, you should go." He made the pitch, feeling his obligation as one of the cast members but really believing it was the truth.
"Do you know where I can purchase a ticket?" Snape inquired.
"Actually, they're pretty well sold out. But my friend could only use one ticket. You're welcome to the other if you like?" He offered it and the spy took it.
Snape was shocked at his good fortune, though he wondered if Hermione would see it as a coincidence if they showed up to a show seated together. Probably not. Now he could enjoy a free show, and keep an eye out for her.
Hermione was alone when she stepped out of the cab, wearing a lovely ankle length black coat. A wide upturned black fur collar was used in an attempt to shield her face from view. Most didn't notice, but then they weren't looking at her rather striking features. When she walked into the playhouse, he could see she how she wore her hair in an arrangement of loose curls on the back of her head. She handed her ticket to the attendant and marched up the stairs to take her seat on the lower floor just behind the orchestra. He followed behind her, taking his time, and glancing around looking out for any sign of a man he suspected would never come to such a place. However, Lucius always enjoyed the finer things, and he routinely spoiled himself with the extravagances that a wealthy life offered.
When he made it to the door of the theatre, a bell chimed that five minutes were remaining before the start of the show. He made his way to the seat by Hermione. She was still unaware of him and had stood to bravely remove her cloak.
"Let me help you with that," he said smoothly. He slid it off her shoulders in one gentlemanly motion and she spun around to address him.
"Professor Snape!" She whispered in a relieved gasp, "what are you doing here?"
"Watching a play I imagine, same as you." He said coolly.
She looked at him with a shake of her head. Must you always be so sarcastic?
She sat quickly, facing forward. No sign of Lucius. Maybe I can make it through one night. One normal evening. With Severus. Oh God. She pressed her lips together in thought. She tried to suppress the wave swelling inside her.
He sat to her right in his designated seat. She was lovely, wearing a long unrevealing dress, simple black and adorned only with the pendant he had seen around her neck over the years. He was distracted by it briefly as it gave off a warm glow, illuminating her pale skin. On the surface of the oval stone a Chinese character was etched, but faintly. He could make out that it possessed the pictograph for heart, but couldn't recognize the rest of it or risk being caught staring.
The light came on. "Wait a second…Jake gave you that ticket… he was going to give me the pair, but I only needed one. How did you?" She smiled with a 'humph', shook her head and held her hand up waving off the reply. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
Don't look a gift horse in the mouth Granger, she told herself. Be glad you have company.
The play quickly started after some innocent conversation about Hogwarts. Hermione clapped loudly after all of Jake's scenes. They were obviously friends. He wondered if perhaps they were more than that.
Halfway through the act following intermission, she felt a prickling at the back of her mind. Snape noticed her flinch and she excused herself, angering the other patrons with her untimely departure. Snape looked around. Something was wrong. She had taken her coat with her.
Snape rose from his seat and attempted to discreetly follow her looking everywhere for the only person likely enough to startle her. When he left the main theatre, his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the hallway and saw her fleeing toward door that exited to the street. He felt his own concealed pendant give warning to him and he bolted after her. She was in the street attempting to call over a taxi, and instead the Knight Bus appeared to pick the frantic woman up. Hermione waved it on, clearly not wanting to take a magical route. She looked around her and hailed a cab. She turned around and regarded Snape with a pained expression, mouthing the words "I have to go," as she rode away.
He was relieved, no sign of Malfoy, and turned to re-enter the theater. Visible from the bottom of the ramp, Snape saw Lucius had entered the front hall of the theatre and was climbing the steps. He calmed his rising anger and Snape quickly left through the back door again and disapparated.
*****
Four months later, a letter arrived for Severus by way of standard mail, owlpost. It was sealed with a gold leaf, the sign of his alma mater. The students who graduated from the college participated in an initiation of sorts. Severus had been selected carefully to attend the ceremony. A refusal was not permitted, it was sacred honor and duty he must perform. And one he was glad to. That school had prepared him more for his years as a mole than anything ever had. After he turned spy he immediately returned to Hogwarts as a Professor. Through the years he both studied and taught, achieving his advanced degrees. But it was the school of meditation, the disciplining and tuning of his mind which made it all possible. He wondered what made them select him. Perhaps they would ask him to be a mentor. He freed his mind of the limits of expectation. Anything was possible. Speculation was a waste of time.
Severus arranged his absence with Dumbledore who asked no questions. He apparated to Guozijian Street just outside of the famous school an hour ahead. The weather was mild but windy in the late evening and the tourists who frequented were absent. He wore the customary long dark navy robe and a skull cap under his cloak. Assuming his old habit, he walked the grounds a bit, visiting each of the four corners of the school. This had been a part of his old routine. He had missed those quiet moments of reflection. He had never felt the same as he had studying here. Everything on the grounds and in the architecture of the place was in harmony, in balance. Snape stepped off of the familiar grounds past the 700 year-old cypress tree which stood not far from the Confucian Temple located to the east of the school. Utterly silent, he nodded an unspoken greeting to acknowledge Master Qian, his former teacher. He must have been almost 200 by now, but still defied his age.
He followed him down the steps to a small room. He remembered sitting here years before, focused, centered, clear. This was a shocking place to heal from his tour of duty. He was so surprised to have been invited to such an institution. After three years he finally gave up trying to find out why he was chosen, why he was even granted the privileged to study here, and accepted the honor for what it was. The walls of the room were still red and the floor unfinished wood. A straw mat lay in the heart of the dark room. Only a few candles in the circle provided any light. In the center sat the student to be initiated. Teachers seated at the East and South were already in deep meditation. Master Qian took the West spot. Each place had significance. The last time Snape had been here, he was seated in the middle, wearing white as was the student before him. The position to the North awaited him and he sat last. North, in astrology represented the positive pole, and in Chinese culture the element water. Calm, stillness. An unusual choice, water did correspond with the male gender, however there wasn't always a time when he would've considered himself a calm, still person. That was a challenge for him, so to sit in the North position would require strength.
The ceremony would take the better part of three hours—or longer. Meditation ceremonies were used to open up the mind of the individual student. His or her test was use their perception. Each task was different in some way that challenged the individual pupil. This student's task was to identify each member in the room, in order.
Snape's eyes were already closed as he sat cross-legged on the floor. It had begun. Incense was hinted at in the air from previous ceremonies held upstairs during the day. They were directly below the temple built in the early 1300's. There was magnificent power and history here, for Wizards and Muggles alike. Hallowed ground.
Hours passed without effort as he attempted to support the student sitting before him. He prayed and focused his energies expanding them outward, filling the room. Then he felt them. It was unusual this. This was typically a five person ceremony, four winds and the initiate. But in the darkness, at the edges of his mind he felt them, faintly, but they were there.
She spoke then in fluent Mandarin. "On the outside, Masters Danforth, Smith, Lee, Jonas, Chen…" She recited thirty three names and then continued to the center."… Master Qian, West; Master Nguyen, South; Master Sung, East; and Master Snape— North." She removed her blindfold slowly. Professor Snape opened his eyes and finally recognized his former student, Hermione Granger. She had been kneeling, elbows out, hands on her legs, a difficult position to keep up for several hours. He hadn't recognized her voice even when she spoke. Mandarin sounded different on everyone. She looked down reverently, staring was considered disrespectful and therefore was discouraged.
Master Qian spoke first. "You are filled with light my child, so much that even the North wind could not recognize you." Snape was surprised and wondered how Master Qian had known that. He would've been a bit embarrassed, but his focus on the task at hand prevented strong feeling one way or another. "You have resisted the confines of rules and expectations, this was your challenge. I anticipated you would easily identify a mere four teachers here, but thirty seven? You have outshone all of our expectations and your own I think. You prefer solitude, but your greatness, my child, lies in the challenges before you. That requires risk-taking. And that cannot be sought out within these walls. This meeting is ended. Go with a wise and thankful spirit."
Everyone bowed deeply, their heads touching the floor. Hermione remained prostrate until each of the monks, wizards and teachers had left, leaving only Master Qian and Professor Snape. Qian stood and handed the pin to Snape who rose as well. The eldest teacher touched Master Granger's shoulder permitting her to rise. He left her to the North wind.
Her eyes met Severus Snape's and she wore a quiet smile of gratitude. He approached her carefully and pinned the gold cypress leaf to her robe which had changed magically from white to navy. Hermione bowed to him, and she realized his education here was likely where all of his formal but curt bowing at the school must've been derived. Four years had changed her, and it all started with Snape's meditation classes at Hogwarts. Master Qian had known that of course and that's why Master Severus Snape had been chosen.
I'm very proud of you, Snape thought silently. Hermione wasn't permitted to speak for two weeks more. Part of her journey toward her new challenge. No wonder she hadn't taken the Ministry job. Something better had come along. Her new challenge was escape from isolation, risk-taking. A challenge indeed.
*****
Two weeks later the traditional farewell party was held to send off their graduating students. There were only twelve. Master Snape appeared again, but in his regular black suit and cloak, a bit more formal than class. As always, the recent initiates were encouraged to put on something unknown to the teachers there. For most it was subtle—an attitude, a different side of themselves they wore on their sleeves.
Hermione wore a formal red Spanish dress. If the guests were surprised they didn't show it. Only periodic smiles showed Hermione that the monks and teachers thought she missed the point of the exercise. Master Qian knew better. Almost everyone there wore the standard navy robes.
She was still riding out her vow of silence, which had long since stopped being uncomfortable. The monks chanted unusually as the time wore thin for each of the students… "five, four, three, two, one…" It was like a countdown for New Year's. The students laughed and began chatting with each other lightly, congratulating each other on making it through their rigorous training.
A new journey lay ahead, but Hermione remained silent. Master Qian approached her with Master Snape. She bowed to them and they responded likewise. A light Spanish tune played itself out in Hermione's head, the familiar notes were ones she enjoyed often in silence.
"A very attractive dress, Master Granger. I never knew..." He left the rest unsaid. I never knew you sang. Master Qian was one of the very few monks Hermione permitted to read her surface thoughts. Over his long years he had developed an incredible ability to perceive and understand the thoughts of those around him. He knew better than to speak all of them aloud. It was a quiet understanding between them both.
"Congratulations, Hermione." Snape shook her hand and passed her a steaming cup of hot tea. If Snape was puzzled by her attire, he never let it show.
She nodded to him and smiled, unwilling to break her vigil just yet. She looked at Master Qian and Snape with a polite nod and excused herself. Master Qian interpreted on her behalf, "She is going to visit the four corners." Qian meant the four corners of the school, the four winds, the four statues honoring the founding teachers. It was a traditional walk she made each morning, and this was the last time she would make it. Hot tea in her hands, she walked slowly down the pebble path. Master Qian felt her presence at the edge of his consciousness… West… South… East…
And she walked slowly to the last one, North. A tear streamed down her face and it was hard for Qian not to share in her sorrow, both for leaving the school, which had been her home and embarking on her new and dangerous journey ahead. The other students felt other pangs similar to Hermione, but he suspected hers was a bit deeper. She did not let him see. But he could feel the emotions from the ever-guarded Master Snape, who had been watching Hermione carefully, with a little something more than pride for his former student. Qian smiled knowingly to himself.
When she returned, she greeted them again, and said to Snape, "Now I'm not sure whether to address you as Professor or Master."
He let out a brief huff, a half chuckle. "Call me Severus."
She smiled. He came. So many questions. She was bursting inside to ask him about his journey here, what he faced. But those were private. Each student had their own to face and it was not a topic of discussion. Perhaps he would choose to share that with her at a later time.
"When I saw you in London over the winter break, it never occurred to be you could be a student here." He offered.
"I went for a job interview at the Ministry." She sipped her tea innocently as the puzzle pieces fell into place for him. The wind blew against her back, whipping the yellow crinoline under her colorful skirt, her life already changing and she hadn't even left the party yet.
Later in her quarters, she paced back and forth now filled with worry. Crookshanks mewed loudly to comfort his mistress and slinked back an forth between Hermione's legs as a gesture of sympathy. All of her bags were packed, and Liam had already prepared her flat in London. Qian had sensed her troubled thoughts and came to rescue his worried peer. "Master Snape? Oh I'm sorry, you fooled me." Her pacing stopped, she looked at her feet and realized she had more in common with the Potions Master than she thought. She looked at Qian with a frightened look, the composure of four years of study falling away to reveal reality. Lucius Malfoy. I'm afraid.
"You will do well." He permitted a warm hug, not customary of the order, but acceptable to Hermione and necessary even to reassure her. She appreciated it. Qian was a wise and understanding man. She was not sure she would ever fully understand him and was grateful for his quiet acceptance of her private eccentricities.
******
When she arrived at her London flat it felt empty. Crookshanks immediately claimed the bed and left Hermione to take in her surroundings alone. Liam had been kind enough to take the liberty of purchasing furniture for her and added several pieces saved for her by her parents. That made it a least a little more inviting, only just. Emotionally it still felt a bit sterile and insecure. It wasn't hers yet. She placed wards immediately to hold for the time being until she could spend more time focusing on security matters. She sighed, knowing she needed to spend the time to break it in like an old chair. That would make the place hers. Her personal touches. Books, books were missing. And a lab. And rugs. And pictures, and music. She raced furiously around the apartment with her wand, creating bookshelves in her bedroom, opening boxes as we went, pulling out her friends. Moste Potente Potions, The Art of Alchemy, Teaching Transfiguration… One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,…ahhh~ Madame Vinius' Guide to Rare Herbs and Roots: A Scientific Compilation. Now she was home. She opened the next box with reverence as she slowly pulled out pictures of her friends: Harry and Ron, one of the Weasley family Christmas photos, a snapshot of the Hogwarts staff at a Quidditch match, and a picture of her and Liam at Graduation with her parents.
She smiled as she saw Ron and Harry each with arms around her neck, but periodically fawning over their Quidditch brooms, talking strategy. She sat down with a sad sigh. Who would she invite here? No one knew where she lived except Liam. She tabled the issue and decided to postpone that thought for later. On the outside of the flat, it appeared to be a modest set of apartments in a non-descript community of Londoners. Anyone she invited here might believe she had an economy flat, when in reality she owned the whole building.
It took several weeks, but she settled in well. To Hermione, Potions research was a home in and of itself and she slowly felt more relaxed as she slipped into a comfortable routine at the Ministry. Research was solitary work and permitted her the privacy she needed to feel secure, organized and sane. At her own request, she asked the Ministry to let no one know where she was employed. Ron knew because she ran into him but swore him immediately to secrecy. After seeing Lucius snoop around the halls the same day, he kept totally mum. She kept her head down and managed to make sure extremely few people knew of her position.
Harry confided in her and knew of her interest in Potions, but mostly they didn't discuss work. He was an Auror, a high pressure job to say the least. He was very self-absorbed over-analyzing Voldemort's plans and consequently not often asking about her own life. She didn't mind, it kept things simpler. She don't lie, per se, to her friends. She just omitted certain truths. Not just for her own protection but for theirs as well. Sure, Granger, keep telling yourself that. That's how it starts out. A life lived in fear causes a little change in how much you share. It's a shame that fear affected her behavior towards friends as well as enemies. Hermione Granger had trust issues.
As she worked and studied in quite solitude, she knew Master Qian would be disappointed in her. She meditated every morning and spent most of her spare time, expanding the flat. She didn't attach it to the Floo network. After an in depth study of magical protective spells, the flat was warded so heavily even Headmaster Dumbledore would be impressed. It was all but Unplottable. She knew this wasn't what Master Qian had in mind when he said take more risks. Her continued nightmares didn't do much to encourage her to do that.
The dreams that plagued her included a lot more work related occurrences. She was cautious there. The brown-haired, sleepy-eyed, caffeine-addicted woman managed to come in at the crack of dawn when possible, avoiding most eyes. She worked with three or so people in her rather small department. Hermione Granger was responsible for crafting a creating new potions for use by the Ministry. She was also responsible for making all of the potions used by Aurors, the Court, and Unspeakables. Most potions were made in large quantity, but of late, certain ingredients were being depleted, therefore, key ingredients were becoming more expensive and harder to find. Most of her visions centered on this point.
And because of her recent premonitions, she shouldn't have been surprised to find herself in such a state today. The shocking headline of the Daily Prophet screamed at her as she bent over her desk in tears and frustration. Two Aurors Dead, 8 Injured. Ministry Incompetence? Her cloak was a blur as she tested samples from her stock, potions she made by her own hand. They were worthless. Useless waste. She went back to the stores and tested each ingredient one by one. These were basic potions any student could brew in their sleep. She brewed them because their efficacy could be assured and she could be trusted. She sweated as she felt the lives of people (as well as her job) were in jeopardy. Where were all of the potions now? Could she track them? Maybe Tonks could help discreetly dispose of them so they could be carefully replaced? One by one, she checked. The ingredients weren't expired. She tested the freshness and quality of each ingredient individually. But when the came to the rarer ingredients… they were weak. She tested again and again but arrived at the same result. She took samples of each and analyzed their chemical components. Each ingredient, the key ingredients, had been cut with expired portions of the same products. In many respects they still functioned the same way as the uncut fresh ingredient. The potions gave the appearance of working. However, as brewed, they only achieved a fraction of their potency.
She asked Jared Winslow, her stocker, first and that's when he'd informed her that she had either been 1. left out of the loop, 2. missed the inter-office memo, or 3. had been so preoccupied with her work, that she, Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all extraordinaire, had missed the bigger political picture at the Ministry. "It's never a good idea to turn your back on a snake," he said. Winslow told her that due to budget cuts and a new bid from a commercial supplier, the Ministry had changed vendors. Hermione was livid. It was her responsibility to assure the quality of the potions. Only she and persons in her department were capable of making those decisions. She could not understand why someone outside of the potions Department would do such a thing without consulting her. One person sprang to mind though. Cornelius Fudge.
Now Hermione was furious.
*****
Authors Notes:
There really is an Imperial College located in Beijing, China off of Guozijian Street. Imperial College branches also exist in London, Toronto, and elsewhere. The Confucian Temple is located to the east of the school, and was built in 1302. It is the home of a 700 year old Cypress tree. Everything else regarding the school is fictional.