So yeah sorry about that. I did fully intend to write in the new year. And then year twelve happened and VCE and my life went to shit and yeah I think Ao3 authors might be inherently cursed. Anyway I finish exams in four days so here is a chapter that literally took me a year because writers block is a bitch. Turns out ditching most of it and starting again was a great decision and now it is the same level of mid as the other chapters. Pls enjoy and let me know what you think. I reckon Ao3 engagement is probably the only thing that tops academics validation so keep it coming folks!
Chapter Fifteen
Hermione awoke suddenly, panting slightly as her heart rate climbed increasingly higher. She could feel beads of sweat slowing creeping down her neck as she shivered with the breeze drifting from her open window. She stared into the darkness of her childhood bedroom, gently illuminated by the soft light of a streetlamp; a bookshelf stared back at her – touring her childhood of increasingly academic literature – as Hermione tried desperately to calm her breathing. She couldn't remember the dream. But it wasn't new. She blinked tightly, trying to rid the yellow eyes that intruded into her sacrosanct muggle dwelling. Yawning, she reached for the notebook that now remained permanently upon her bedside table, flicking on the light in an attempt to banish the shadows she could feel slithering over her shoulders.
After his rather unsuccessful meeting with Miss Granger, Snape turned all his attention to cleaning the Potions classroom in preparation for the summer holidays. Despite his ability to do so, he did not usually stay at Hogwarts for the majority of the break; therefore, in this one aspect of his life, he appreciated the joy of a prolonged break in essentially preparing twice for the term ahead. With his classroom once again showing no evidence of teenage interference, Snape turned his rather manic cleaning onto his own quarters and, with a meticulously packed trunk, proceeded to walk the grounds one last time.
The following morning found Snape materialising in a dark alleyway in Manchester, having escaped Scotland the moment the students boarded the train – silently thanking Dumbledore's insistence that all compulsory staff activities occurred at the beginning of the school year. Striding up the street he felt himself fill with shame as the last house in Spinner's End came into view. It was not an uncommon feeling, if anything it felt almost ritualistic, however, Severus thought the emotion felt a little different this time. There was something present he could not identify that had little to do with the general shame of poverty but, perhaps, more so with the depressing image of isolation he was confronted with.
Spinner's End, Cokeworth, and Manchester in its entirety, was always particularly depressing to Severus when he returned from Hogwarts. It presented a harsh juxtaposition to the beauty of the Scottish countryside he frequently lost himself in. He tried consciously not to allow the surrounding to dampen his mind. Severus was determined to take advantage of the summer for the first time ever; he was going to take Poppies advice and attempt self-care. How he loathed that word and everything it stood for. He coughed gently as his door creaked open and tried to clear the disturbed dust from his eyes and lungs. Staring dismally at the dark hallway he wished he could forget; Snape gingerly climbed the stairs to deposit his belongings.
The house had not changed during his year-long absence. If anything, it appeared to resemble even more strongly its state before his ownership. Ignoring the first door, Snape placed his trunk on the floor of his bedroom, sending a cleaning spell toward the dust that had accumulated on the stack of grey blankets deposited on the bed. He took a look around the drab room, it was somehow comforting. Nostalgic perhaps, was a better word. Concluding that he could do nothing to render it more liveable, Snape moved to the Potions Lab. He reinforced some of the spell work and ensuring his dust-protection spells had all worked as desired. It was in here that he felt most at home, immaculately clean yet surrounded by blackboards littered with sprawling handwriting and various pieces of parchment it comforted him to know little changed between the lab of Hogwarts and his own.
By lunchtime he had concluded that making the house enjoyable would remain a futile effort; however, he was impressed with his ability to at least clear the layers of dust from each room. An endeavour he had not undertaken in many years, if ever. Yet his serenity was, rudely, interrupted by a rather insistent knock on his door.
"Hello," Poppy said brightly into Severus' rather dumbfounded glare.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, attempting to compose himself in the event of receiving his first every visitor.
"I came to see you Severus," Poppy replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "We're going to have some tea."
"Oh, that's not optional, is it?" Poppy merely walked past him to settle herself on the, thankfully dustless, lounge.
As he waited for the kettle to boil Severus was overwhelmed by the crushing shame he felt at the state of his house, and for the appearance of Poppy to 'check in' on him as though he wasn't a fully functional adult and had been for some years.
"I appreciate whatever concern you may have Poppy," Severus said with a tone which conveyed anything but appreciation, "but I do not need to be coddled."
"Sit down, Severus," He sat, peering around awkwardly. Taking pity on his Poppy pressed forward. "I have a suspicion you might be a little depressed." Albeit slightly undercut by the pink floral teacup he delivered it over; Snape's glare would have made any first year promptly burst into tears. "I thought maybe you could do with some help to clean and perhaps make this place a little…" she paused, looking around, "…brighter? I'll leave when that's done and you probably won't see me for the rest of the holidays, but Minerva and I fear you'll be pulled back into that melancholy state now that you're on your own. We really are worried about you Severus."
Snape was speechless. He had never encountered someone who wanted to help him so completely, even Minerva and Poppy – who he was, doubtless, the closest to – usually kept their distance whilst. Obviously their latest encounters had not filled them with hope for his ability to take care of himself.
"May I ask what makes this summer's melancholy state different to that of my entire life?" Snape asked acerbically.
Poppy looked at him sorrowfully. "Severus, if you had almost died in battle do you think we would just leave you to be depressed alone?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Rather tactless Poppy. That is precisely what happened. Repeatedly." She covered her mouth gently.
"Of course, Severus I am so sorry. You should never have suffered that way and I hope you never have to again. We care for you."
Severus sighed. With considerable difficulty, he forced himself to ignore the feelings of indignation, resentment, and self-loathing to accept her offer of help.
"Excellent," she proclaimed happily, checking her watch. "Minerva should be here in-" she there was a knock. "What perfect timing she has."
Severus remained seated, trying desperately to calm the anxiety he could feel rising in his chest as the two women re-entered the room.
"Now Severus," Minerva said, "this place really is rather depressing, have you ever considered remodelling?"
"Allow me to introduce you to the rather depressing nature of a particular condition called poverty." Snape snarled at her.
"You are a wizard," she answered, making him shrink slightly with a glare of her own. "But that is why I am here; I know transfiguration has always been something you struggle with." He blushed as she settled herself with tea and a biscuit, ignoring his obvious discomfort.
"Why don't we begin in here, so that you might feel a little more inclined to have visitors." Poppy suggested. "Then I think we should do your bedroom since I assume it reflects the entryway, and that will only bring your mood down every morning."
"I am not having you in my bedroom." Snape answered stiffly, blushing again. Both women burst out laughing.
"Severus," Minerva said, still chuckling, "bless you and your incessant need for privacy but there really is nothing Poppy and I have not seen; we are not going to judge you for it. I think after that the most important place would be the kitchen and entrance but perhaps, they might be another day. We can see how we feel after the first two."
"You can see how I feel now!" They looked at him sympathetically.
"Severus, help us and we will be out of your hair sooner than if we stick you to that chair and work it out between ourselves. You're more likely to like the result that way."
"Fine." He said gruffly. "How- how do we do this?"
Minerva tried to hide her proud smile at his hesitance, he looked so much like his younger self it was uncanny.
An hour later the sitting room was unrecognisable. Light streamed in from windows finally removed of decades of grim and mildew now framed by heavy, green velvet curtains that seemed to immediately elevate the room to a much more Snape-like atmosphere. The couch had been 'brightened' to a similar deep green that complimented the curtains excellently and matched the subtle stripe of the new wallpaper that replaced the peeling 1940s paint. Minerva had deftly sanded the floorboards and their renewed shine reflected the light, warming the once cold room consideringly.
"Do you want a carpet, Severus?"
"Sorry?" He answered, distracted by the transformation.
"Would you like me to transfigure you a carpet to make this place a bit warmer, in front of the fireplace perhaps?"
"The fire-…" he trailed off, looking at how Madam Pomfrey had stripped the paint back to reveal pleasant brickwork surrounding the grate a crackling fire roaring without heat. He swallowed.
"Thank you, Minerva. That would be very much appreciated." She smiled warmly.
"Alright. I feel as though I could do one more room today, Minerva?" Poppy asked. Yes I should think so, if Severus would be kind enough to sort these papers whilst we take care of the bedroom I can transfigure this table before we leave."
"You want me to just let you have free reign over my bedroom?"
"I think you might soften you own feelings of shame if you let us work alone."
Taken aback by her abruptness, he nodded. Pulling a chair up to the rickety kitchen table upon which he had strewn years of notes, thoughts, and various research projects he begun to sort them somewhat sheepishly.
Poppy and Minerva shared a significant look as they reached the staircase, out of sight of Severus. Minerva cast a privacy charm upon them so they might speak freely, safe from Severus' uncannily sharp hearing.
"I suppose that could have gone worse." Minerva remarked.
"The poor boy, that he never thought to do this for himself…". They sighed, pausing a moment in the gloom of the stairwell, not knowing what state of disrepair they might find upstairs.
"What do you suppose he uses the other rooms for?" Poppy asked
"Well, if that is his study, I don't profess I know. There must be a lab somewhere, surely that at least will be in impeccable condition." Poppy hummed absently, climbing the staircase.
Reaching the landing they turned to open the nearest door before noticing the one directly ahead stood open, an open trunk on the floor. Striding forward, Minerva pushed open the door and abruptly stopped before moving slightly to the side to allow Poppy to move beside her.
The room comprised a small, single bed heaped with grey blankets in varying states of disrepair and a single wardrobe. The wallpaper, large, faded yellow flowers that were distinctly reminiscent of the 1930s, revealed several layers beneath, peeled bare around the bed. Walking inward, Poppy closed the door. The room felt like a shoebox. One small, painted window let a little light and a lot of mildew in. The wardrobe was empty save for old school papers and uniform.
"Oh Poppy," Minerva said, gasping. "The door." Poppy looked.
Scratch marks surrounding the handle and strikes littered its entire surface. The women looked at each other, speechless.
"What has that poor man been through?"
"Oh Poppy. How did we not know? How could we not have known?"
Shocked they sat, slightly dazed, upon the bed which creaked under their weight. Feeling a lump Poppy reached and pulled out a faded, threadbare teddy. Her eyes filled with tears. Minerva put an arm around her and they sat for several minutes, silently taking in the room.
Finally, Minerva cleared her throat, "we can't let him stay here".
"I agree, but what are we supposed to do. Clearly, he isn't particularly welcoming to change."
"At the very least, he is moving his bedroom. Let us see the other rooms and perhaps one of those might be suitable." Poppy nodded.
The next door turned out to be the Potions Lab, immaculately presented and giving no indication as to the state of the rest of the house. Poppy and Minerva both concluded the charms appeared much too strong to be possible to move. Leaving the first room they had almost entered.
Upon opening the door, both Poppy and Minerva coughed violently, such a wave of dust was disturbed. The room was incomprehensible. Every inch was covered in decades worth of dust and mould. It looked untouched, frozen in time. Delicately ventured inward, the women looked around at the room. The wardrobe remained open, men's shirts strewn on the ground and a pair of metal tipped boots lay by a chair, one sideways as though it had just been kicked off. The bed was unmade and rumpled; a solitary comb stood on the dresser next to an ancient straight razor. The room looked as though, had it not been for the inches of dust, the owner was merely downstairs, unwinding for the day.
"We're taking him home."
"I agree," Minerva said. "We can come back tomorrow and attempt it. But he is not sleeping here tonight." They looked at each other, shocked and speechless at the façade of Severus that had kept so much hidden.
"Minerva, Poppy," a voice called from the sitting room. "I've finished you can come down and do the table now."
Minerva almost laughed.
"Does he not realise what we are witnessing?"
"Maybe he doesn't realise how harrowing it is. Or maybe this is his desperate cry for help." Minerva nodded and turned toward the stairs.
Re-entering the sitting they were surprised the find multiple neat stacks of papers littering the floor and Severus in the kitchen, boiling the kettle again. Poppy nodded to Minerva as she transfigured the table into handsome mahogany with four curved legs that echoed Severus' desk at Hogwarts.
"Severus," he returned to the sitting room once again carrying a laden with teacups and biscuits. "Come home with us tonight."
Hermione threw herself on her bed the minute she was excused from dinner. It had been an exhausting day. Getting back from school was always exhausting but her parents had been particularly interested in her adventures this time, given that she had neglected to write to them for the twenty-three days she had been petrified. Entirely worn out and near tears for a reason entirely unknown to Hermione, she rummaged through her trunk to find her notebook and box.
Thursday 22nd July 1993
Severus,
I know I already wrote on the train but I don't know what else to do right now and I find writing it at least a little calming. I don't feel I've really gotten the chance since being unpetrified. I don't have the energy to explain what has happened since then, but I thought I should write anyway. I was really missing my parents when I was on the train but now I'm just kind of sad about it all. Despite everything, it felt strange not to see them for so long. They picked me up from the station, they never did that in primary school – I feel like I'll never get used to it. That was always us kids' measure of each other's wealth – of you got picked up from school. Bonus points if they were waiting when the bell rang. Anyway it has been a lovely night, truly. They asked an awful lot of questions and I was a little shocked to discover the school had not told them I was petrified or at least ill and somewhat incapacitated. Anyway. I don't feel like I have anything to say but I want to write. I am already missing our lessons. They made my whole week. I wish you knew that. I wish you knew how important it was so me. I really do love it.
Hermione
"I'm sorry?" Severus was taken back for the umpteenth time that evening.
"Severus we can't do enough today and we really don't think you should stay here."
"Oh so you swoop in and suddenly everything is horrible. My house is just that. Mine. And I will not be removed from it just because you stare down your nose at poverty. It has always been like this and it always will be. SO LEAVE ME IN PEACE." He shouted.
"This is not peace, Severus." Minerva responded calmly. "You are not living in peace. You are living with ghosts-"
"Really? I don't see any?" He sniped at her.
Minerva stood up, walking toward him. "Severus, I don't know what happened here. I don't need to know if you don't want to tell me. But we want to help you. I know you don't believe that. But just for tonight, please?"
"We will come back tomorrow and finish, but we cannot do enough tonight." Poppy offered tentatively.
"Please Severus. We're not trying to take you away. We just want to have a nice dinner with you. Come meet our cat, see the garden. I've got some fairly rare herbs you can't always get fresh; will that tempt you?"
Severus looked at them anxiously. He felt overwhelmed. He didn't want to trust them, everything inside him was screaming to throw them out of his house and never allow them to return. But the thought, the image, of him sitting alone at his new table only to once again retreat to the trembling sweats of his childhood bedroom appeared so mournful in the face of two people who so desperately wanted to help him. He didn't need help. He shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of his thoughts chasing each other without order or reason.
Suddenly he flinched as Poppy wrapped her arms around him; he hadn't noticed her getting closer. She barely came up to his chest but hugged him fiercely as he stood motionless, locking eyes with Minerva to try and convey his panic. To his complete surprise, she merely mirrored Poppy's actions, encasing him in warm utterly incomprehensible. Overwhelmed, he desperately tried to push down the tears welling in his eyes and, knowing the spasm of his chest had given him away, assented as quietly as he could to their offer.