Chapter 5 – The End Of The Endless Day

Hermione heard the door close behind her. Had she actually just said all those things to Snape? She was caught somewhere between panic and glee. Yes, she had said all those things but he had not been angry. Attempting to convince herself she had not imagined his smile or his laugh, she started the potion.

The potion Snape assigned was much easier than she had expected, especially from him. Practice allowed her to work seamlessly while allowing her mind to wander. Would Snape be pleased with her ease in potion making? It really was no matter to her. She had learned a long time ago not to expect much in the way of validation from others. The more she excelled, the more she became confident in her own abilities. An unfortunate side effect of this was the distance it caused between herself and her friends and family. The farther ahead she pulled, the farther away she got from everyone around her.

She had not actually seen Harry or Ron since Christmas. Every now and again, she missed their company but the memory of their incessant chatter about Quidditch and dating and criminals quickly pulled her from her reverie. She loved them dearly, but there were things she required that they could simply never provide.

It had also been months since she has seen her parents. They asked all the polite questions about school, but they really could not begin to comprehend much about her world. Inevitably, the topic of her love life would arise. This was her cue to excuse herself to check the extremely volatile potion she had left simmering at home. She always felt guilty about that, but she also always felt relieved.

Her time at college had not added to her list of friends. Everyone was interested in going to clubs and participating in idle chatter. She wanted to discuss things of interest, like the burgeoning use of scarab beetles in memory potions and their effect on the stability of the spell, or literature, music, or anything other than what they always seemed to discuss. At times, it seemed like they carried on the exact same conversation day after day. Hermione had always thought how boring their lives must be. She was sure they thought the same of her. She was also sure her enjoyment of her quiet life would surprise everyone. Her classmates could never understand that part of her. Let them fight the next war, she thought.

When she finished reminiscing, she was mildly stunned to be on the last step of the Amana Robusta potion. All that remained was to reduce the heat and let it simmer until morning. She checked her watch. It was almost eight o'clock. Struck by hunger, she remembered she had not eaten since breakfast. After clearing up her area, she headed for the door. Before closing it behind her, she took one last look at the classroom. It really was strange how completely things could change.

> > > > > > > > > >

Snape heard the door click shut behind him. Had he really just laughed, more than once, in front of a former student no less? Yes, he was sure he had. What had possessed him? Well, she was funny. What was he supposed to do, throw her bodily from the dungeons and tell her to stop being funny? That would be stupid. Nevertheless, next time he would try not to give her so much ammunition.

As he headed for his rooms, he remembered two books that he wanted. It was not too late to get to Flourish & Blotts before they closed and he could pick up some fresh ingredients while he was out.

Passing his rooms, he went down the corridor, through the entrance hall and out the front doors into the gloriously warm afternoon sun. The brisk walk to the gates gave him the opportunity to relax a bit. Even if he had to follow through with this year of tutelage, at least she was competent. She would need little guidance and therefore would stay out of his line of fire quite easily. Reassured by this knowledge, he stepped to the other side of the gates and Apparated.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing outside the front door of Flourish & Blotts. The street was unusually empty for a Tuesday afternoon. Snape entered the store and turned immediately to the New Release section. He was pleased to find that they had both books he was seeking.

Having paid for his copies of "Advances in Modern Wizarding Science" and "The Newest Complete Works of Eustis Argyle", he left the store. After making an equally successful stop at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, he decided to stop for a quick dinner.

Madam Marcella's was a small restaurant on the east end of Diagon Alley. It also happened to be Snape's favorite in London. After ordering fettuccine with artichokes and basil, Snape took a sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon Madam Marcella had recommended and fell into quiet observation. There were few others in the restaurant, though it was late enough in the day to be time for supper. He noted that he was the only customer dining alone. The only other guests were two couples situated on either side of him and close enough that he could hear snippets of their conversations. He was not really eavesdropping, but he could not help the morbid fascination with their mundane dialogue.

"Is your bread too crispy dear?" the young woman asked her companion.

"No, it's fine. How's your ravioli?"

"Good."

The couple to his left was talking of their dinner. How quaint, Snape thought sardonically, speaking of food in a restaurant. Where do these people come up with such things? The couple to his right wasn't much more remarkable.

"Did you see the ad for half-priced Automatic Fire charms?" the man asked his escort.

"Yes, do you think they're worth the money?" she replied.

"Of course, they're half-priced aren't they?"

Snape made a mental note to look for the inevitable piece in the Daily Prophet about the man's house burning down. Perhaps then, he could put a name to the genius. He smiled to himself just as his dinner arrived and he felt compelled to give it his full attention. Since he had not eaten since breakfast, his hunger was quickly overtaking his mild interest in the other patrons. As he ate, his mind drifted.

What had thrown him so off kilter when he saw Miss Granger? He remembered her well. Although, as he had found earlier in the day, she had changed quite a bit from the girl he had once known. As innocuous as her appearance was, he found she carried with her memories he had not thought of in some time.

He had been so naïve. He was only 20 years old, after all. The only example of a muggle he had before school was his sadistic father. That was regrettably the basis of his hate for them. That hate spread into a loathing of muggle-born wizards and half-bloods, even though he was a half-blood himself. He thought them all the same. He would never have guessed the amount of terror and guilt he would feel when he realized he was wrong.

Twenty-three years had passed since he had heard that prophecy. If it had not been for that prediction, the events of the following two decades would have been entirely different. Snape remembered the duality of his emotions concerning that prophecy, the elation of having something tangible to bring to Voldemort, and then the horror of how he interpreted it. Granted, he did not care about the fate of James, but he had never intended to put Lily in danger. She had done nothing to him. In fact, on more than one occasion, she had defended him. He may not have openly recognized her talents while at school, but he had always held her in much higher esteem than those with which she chose to associate. A person is the sum of their parts, after all, not their friends.

Allowing Voldemort to act would seal the fate of the wizarding world. All he had to do was remain silent. Still, murdering the innocent by inaction was never something Snape had wanted. No matter his dealings with Voldemort, he had always managed to avoid doing any actual killing. In one hideously swift moment of lucidity, Snape realized that he hated the person he had become more than he had hated his own father. He had somehow allowed this hate to cloud all his actions and perhaps bring pain into the lives of those who never deserved it. Snape wasted one brief moment considering taking his own life. That was the cowardly way out. He had to fix this, somehow.

After spending nearly a year devising plans to warn the Potters and delaying Voldemort's plans the best he could, Voldemort handed him a much better opportunity. He suggested that Snape go to Hogwarts and request a job from Dumbledore. This was his chance.

Dumbledore listened intently while Snape conveyed the full extent of the damage he had done. Whether it was the warmth of Dumbledore's office or the sympathy that flowed from the eyes of the wise man sitting before him, Snape wept as he excised the weight of all the terrible things he had done. When he finished, he had expected Dumbledore to have him sent to Azkaban. Instead, Albus offered him a proposition. Snape would come to work at Hogwarts under the guise of spying for Voldemort while actually fulfilling the role as spy for the Order. Snape eagerly accepted, thinking his troubles would soon be over and knowing little of how wrong he still was.

The plan did not go as expected. The Potter's changed their Secret Keeper at the last minute. Snape had just found out Pettigrew was a Death Eater and had missed Albus by ten minutes that Halloween night. Those ten minutes cost Lily and James their lives. Those ten minutes haunted Snape for many years to come.

The next fifteen years were more than interesting. After Harry had arrived at school, it was apparent that Voldemort was not truly gone. Snape did everything in his power to protect the boy, no matter how unappreciated his actions were. At the end of Harry's fourth year, Snape had resumed his role as double agent. Again, he did everything he could to help end Voldemort's reign of terror, following every order Albus thought fit to give him, but all those efforts were insignificant on that one night at the top of the North Tower over six years ago.

He had hoped it would not have to come to that. He had taken the Vow, which was his own mistake. Snape was more than willing to give up his own life to the Vow, but Albus would not let that happen. He wanted Snape to kill him, as he had said, when the time was right. This was the most absurd thing Snape had ever heard. He told Albus he would not do it, under any circumstance and that there was nothing to say to change his mind. Snape was wrong again. I need you to trust me, Albus had said. So he did, he placed all the trust he had in the wise old wizard and promised to follow through. And so Snape did, with a trembling soul and a heavy heart he raised his wand, committing the first and only murder of his life.

Killing Albus was the hardest thing he had ever done. Besides being a wizard of unsurpassed power and wisdom, he had been the only true friend Snape could remember having. Albus had spoken silent words of encouragement on the tower that night. Everything will be all right. This is the way it has to be. I will see you again someday. I will miss you my friend. Trust in yourself Severus. Without those words, he never could have done it.

The months that followed were not pleasant ones. Though he wanted to help the Order, they had put a warrant out for his capture. Snape spent many a long night wondering what provisions Albus had left behind. Obviously, Albus could not have told them of his plan. They were not skilled in Occlumency. If Voldemort had captured any one of them, it would have spoiled all of their plans and ruined all of their work.

Snape tried to remind Harry of this as he fled the castle that horrific night. Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed. That was what Snape had said to Harry as he lay confused and heartbroken on the ground. That memory haunted him as well. No matter his aversion to the boy, Harry had done nothing wrong. He had just seen his mentor killed in a most undignified fashion. Snape had tried in that moment to remember that they were fighting the same war. However, he knew Harry must learn to separate himself from his own emotions if he ever had a fleeting hope of winning that war.

There were two things that Snape was unaware of during those arduous months. The first was that Lupin was a gifted Occlumens. Dumbledore had confided the plan to him and had left explicit instructions as to the duties he was to carry out. These duties included ensuring Harry master Occlumency and keeping Snape safe from the Order (and Harry) before clearing Snape reputation. The second was that Harry had heeded Snape's words, though not out of respect. Bent on revenge, Harry learned Occlumency quite quickly under the watchful eye of Lupin. Afterwards, Lupin handed over the memories Albus had set aside for Harry. One of these memories cleared Snape's name. He did not know which one and he had never thought to ask.

Snape never dreamed he would be so thankful to hear from Lupin, who contacted him immediately after Harry had come out of the Pensieve. The knowledge that Snape was no longer a hunted man alleviated much of the stress of the following months. It had become quite tiring looking over both shoulders at the same time.

As it turned out, Harry had possessed the strength to destroy Voldemort. Snape could never find the words to describe the unqualified joy he knew when he felt the Dark Mark dissolve from his skin. He was finally, after almost twenty years, a free man.

A tap on his shoulder brought Snape crashing back into the present. He realized immediately that he was the only one left in the restaurant.

"Sir, we are about to close. Is there anything else I can get for you this evening?" the waitress asked quietly.

"No, thank you. Let me get out of your way." He gave her a small smile.

"Compliments of Madam Marcella." She handed him a teardrop shaped bottle. Upon closer examination, he saw it was a bottle of Remy Martin XO Special.

"This is fantastic, but tell her it is too much." He tried to hand the bottle back to the woman.

She refused to take it. "No sir. She insists. You are such a wonderful customer. Enjoy."

"Please extend her my warmest regards."

After leaving a substantial tip, he left the restaurant. He checked his pocket watch. It was almost nine in the evening. More time had passed than he realized.

The night was considerably cooler than the day had been. Stars shone brightly overhead as he made his way back up to the castle. His head was light from the wine he had taken with dinner. Remembering the fine bottle of cognac he had cradled in his arm, he quickened his pace. It was his favorite and he would most certainly like to enjoy it along with one of his new books before he had to turn in for the night.

It was not long before Snape arrived back in his rooms. After a long shower, he changed into a comfortable white linen shirt and black trousers, lit the hearth, and poured a snifter of the amber liquid he had been gifted. Swirling it a few times in the glass, he brought it to his nose. Jasmine and a hint of vanilla, he was never disappointed by this brand. He spun it a few more times before sampling again. Honey and perhaps saffron, this cognac was spectacular. The first sip was magnificent. The flavors mingled in perfect harmony settling to a mellow glimmer. It was ten minutes before the flavors finished.

Content with his drink and seeking a bit of mental recreation, he picked up Eustis Argyle's latest attempt at literature and headed for his favorite armchair next to the fire.

> > > > > > > > > >

When Hermione arrived back at her rooms, she summoned Dobby from the kitchens. She enquired about Professor McGonagall and was disappointed to find that she was away from the castle until mid-August. She has a life too, Hermione reminded herself.

Dobby had brought roast beef and potatoes for her. After a quick supper and a quiet bath, she changed into a fresh white t-shirt and black flannel pants. She looked around the room, taking in all the things she had left unattended, giving the room a messy look without even trying. It already looked as though she had been there for years. I'm glad my mother isn't here to see this, she thought. Settling next to Crookshanks on the welcoming couch with a glass of white wine, she picked up the book she had to abandon earlier in the day.

The fire was soothing, stripping away the layers of the day the bath had missed. Glancing at the clock on the mantle piece, she was amazed that it was still so early. It was only a little after nine. In college, she had become accustomed to late nights and early mornings and now it was a habit she was unable to break. It would be hours before she would be tired enough for sleep, even after such an eventful day as this.

A few more glasses of wine later, the words on the page started to cloud as her mind drifted to other matters. Since when did Snape have a sense of humor? It was naïve to think that he was only the man she had known as a teenager. Although they had worked together during the war, they had never actually worked in the same room. His information would arrive filtered through either Professor McGonagall or Lupin. The truth of the matter was that she really knew nothing about him, not as a person anyway. All she knew was his persona. Possibly the next year would give her the chance to learn more about him. It was disconcerting to think that he may not be the vile man he had portrayed in her memories. That man would have never smiled at her attempt at humor, much less laughed. The insatiable student in her was fraught with curiosity.

She could not help but draw parallels between his life and her own. He preferred to be alone. Well, perhaps no one wanted to spend time with him. She left that to be determined. He was smart. Well, that was obvious. He liked books. They filled his classroom. Don't be silly, she thought, he's a teacher. Of course, he's going to have books.

Becoming restless, she put down the book that was no longer holding her attention. Another glimpse at the clock told her that it was barely ten. Sighing deeply, she was at a loss as to how to occupy herself. She had never had any trouble before, what was so different about now. Unexpectedly a thought drifted through her tipsy brain. Snape lives right across the hall. I could go see if he's still awake. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. No, that is a very bad idea. Again, the spontaneous thought floated to the surface. He's probably still awake. It wouldn't hurt to go see. Again, she shook her head. Yes, it will hurt if he isn't in the mood for company. If he's anything like me, he would rather be left alone. The whim would not be quieted. How will I know if I don't find out?

Setting down her glass, she walked purposefully to the door. Impetuous as it was, she was going to silence her thoughts one way or another.