A/N: Hey folks, this is a new fic I am starting that is HBP compatible. Now, don't you guys worry, I'm not giving up on Snowflake Kisses, I still fully intend to finish and soon I hope seeing as school is over for good at the end of this month. However I got the idea for this fic and just had to write it before I forgot it, and figured I might as well post it and see what you all think. Ideas for how this should progress would be great and as always I adore all of your wonderful reviews and comments, so please, while I'm stressing about finishing school please give me feedback to make me smile and brighten my day.Enjoy!
Some time ago I checked my conscience,
And found it wasn't all that clean
A trail of people I had hurt
A sea of sins left unredeemed
Regret is a dull and rusted blade
That covers me with scars that never fade
These wounds, like a catalog of flaws
Serve to remind me of all the pain I've caused
"Regret" - Assemblage 23
A brilliant fork of lightening tore across the ink black skies, the air abuzz with trembling electricity that could not even begin to mirror the tension that hung thick and ominous like a malodorous scent. For an instant the countryside was illuminated with a flash of stark white light, throwing everything into eerie relief and casting jerking shadows across the earth that trembled with the thunder rumbling overhead. Freezing wind danced through the trees and foliage causing leaves to rustle and tree limbs to bend in its wake, succumbing to its mighty and violent power. Clouds filled the night sky, pregnant and blacker than pitch with the rain that did not yet fall, no stars shone this night, no tiny specks of light looking like so many tiny diamonds cast across the cobalt velvet of the sky. The moon would not cast its cool and benevolent light upon the earth, would not light the way for those lost, and as a darkly cloaked figure apparated in time with another loud clap of thunder it was grateful for the darkness that hung thick providing cover.
Casting a quick disillusion and silencing charm Hermione gathered the thick black cloak tighter around her body in an attempt to block out the freezing bite of the early January wind. The scent of snow hung in the air, crisp and clean with the promise of a thick white blanket that would soon cover the rolling hills and neatly hedged fields of Dorset. Quickly gaining her bearings she turned and gazed out through the bare tree limbs of the small copse she had apparated into. Beyond the gentle slope of the field before her tucked between several large trees and a series of slightly overgrown hedges was a small and quaint, if perhaps a little neglected, cottage. A few of it's small windows shed a warm and inviting golden light upon the small garden and gravel path that led up to the front door from a small wooden gate, while a trail of smoke rose from one of the chimneys, dancing for a moment just above the thatch roof before being swept away on the wind.
Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerve Hermione took one last look around the copse of trees and surrounding fields to assure that no one had seen her sudden and "magical" arrival before removing the wand from the small pocket inside her cloak, and gripping it tightly in her hand began the slow and steady descent down the hill towards the cottage. The grass was crisp and glittering with frost beneath her feet as she moved like a shadow in the darkness, soon finding herself at the edge of the small garden, its wide array of delicate and fragrant wild flowers already lying beneath a thin dusting of snow. Tiny white flakes clung to the hood and shoulders of her cloak as she moved along the thick hedge towards the back of the cottage where she found another small and rickety wooden gate, and an immaculate garden of herbs, spices and even vegetables beyond, a series of stone paths weaving their way through the rows upon rows of plants. For a brief moment Hermione paused in wonder, gazing upon the neat lines of shrubs, plants and bushes, amazed that even now the man she had tirelessly sought to find for years still maintained his passion for plants and their uses.
Deciding that she had spent too long dawdling instead of pursuing the real reason she had come all this way and spent years searching, Hermione cast a silencing charm upon the gate and carefully pushed it open. Making her way through the small garden towards the back door she froze suddenly as she saw a figure move past the covered window beside the door. Suddenly her heart was in her throat and her breath trapped somewhere beneath it, her entire body stiff with panic, fear and perhaps a hint of anticipation. A rushing breath escaped her lips as steam as she watched the figure move back towards the front of the house, the distinct profile she caught a glimpse of through the shade over the window causing the blood to rush like a roaring wind in her ears. It was him, finally after all these years she had seen him again, granted only in silhouette, but it was still enough to make her suddenly quite wary and fearful. Now Hermione, remember your training she scolded herself sternly, this is what you trained for all those years, this is the moment you have been waiting for, you owe it to them, to yourself to go through with this. Don't back down now, you can do this, you can and you must! Her internal monologue continued as she drew in several chilling and calming deep breaths, feeling the relaxing quiet flow over and through her as her thoughts focused and centered on the task at hand. Gripping the shaft of vine wood all the tighter in her hand she crept forward slowly the last few steps to the back door, peering through a small opening left by uneven curtains on the window and seeing nothing but an empty and tidy kitchen before her whispered a furtive "Alohamora" wincing at the soft click of the lock falling back.
Thankfully the door gave little resistance and made no noise as she cautiously pushed it open just wide enough for her lithe form to slip through and into the warmth of the kitchen. A small and old, though apparently well-loved, table stood in the center of the room surrounded by four wooden chairs, the top scrubbed clean though it would always bear the memories of faded scorch marks and scratches in its otherwise smooth surface. A simple stove stood on one side of the room beside a refrigerator, it also appearing old and slightly worn. The counters were plan pale gray stone, clean and devoid of clutter besides many neat rows of jars and containers of varying sizes, each bearing a small label with a precise and scrawling handwriting upon it, handwriting she recognized even with the briefest of glimpses. Moving past the empty sink beside which stood a single plate and glass Hermione paused in the doorway to furtively scan the narrow hallway. A shadowed staircase lead up the right side of the hallway, a single closed door on the left, no light spilling beneath the door and no sound coming from the room. With hesitant steps she crept forward towards the warm flood of light at the end of the hallway, the door left wide open, a small glimpse of the room beyond visible.
Much like the rest of the house it was a small and cozy room, a fire burning steadily in the stone ringed grate, the mantle no more than a large wooden beam, a single faded and worn tapestry hanging above it. No pictures, magical or otherwise adorned its rough surface as her own mantle did, nothing beyond a simple cast iron candlestick at each end, the candle flames dancing wildly in the draft that caused the fire in the grate to lurch and jump. The wind howled outside, raging against the walls and rustling the leaves of the tress that huddled close to the house, branches scratching against the window panes. Hermione's breath sounded as loud as thunder to her own ears while her heart rate increased ten-fold with each carefully laid step, her heart like a hammer against her ribs, her body covered in a thin film of sweat beneath her cloak and clothing. She could feel the tension that hung in the air as though it were a corporal entity, drawn taunt as a bowstring and ready to snap at any moment.
Another step, followed by another and then another revealed more of the sitting room and its contents, though as of yet she could see no one in it. Drawing another deep breath to steel her resolve and gripping her wand ever tighter, Hermione took one final step into the room and saw… Nothing. Two overstuffed and mismatched armchairs and settee, and a coffee table that looked as worn and aged as the kitchen table were the only furniture in the room, the rest of the small space filled with books. Books of varying sizes and origins filled the room almost to bursting, large stacks of them lining all four of the walls, with smaller piles scattered throughout the room creating a teetering and leaning maze. All of the meager furniture except for one armchair was also piled high with books that had been left to tumble against the arms and cushions, some lying open, some full of bookmarks and notes. The one chair that was devoid of its own swaying towers of books was instead overflowing with notebooks, stacks of parchment and a dozen or so broken quills. There was a small space cleared on the floor in front of the glowing fire, dozens of discarded pieces of parchment and dog-eared quills outlining a rough circle just big enough to contain a man. Exhaling heavily Hermione let her shoulders relax just a little, though the grip on her wand did not loosen, her eyes continuing to furtively scan the room for any sign of the house's single inhabitant. Her breath halted as she spied among the stacks of books and scattered parchment a solitary cup of tea, the steam rising from it in small wisps. He's here, somewhere, he can't have gotten far… she began to think as she turned slowly, studying every detail of the room from the tattered curtains that attempted to cover the windows and keep back some of the biting cold that crept in through the cracks around the glass, to the scrawling and smudged handwriting on a parchment at her feet.
A sudden and hissing breath escaped Hermione's lips when she caught a flash of silver in the corner of her eye a moment too late. The cold steel pressed firm against the tender and pale skin of her throat, not hard enough to cut through her delicate flesh but with enough pressure to know that she had indeed been a fool to lower her guard.
"Now what have we here?" a deep and velvety smooth voice purred against her ear through the fabric of her cloak. "I thought that the Ministry taught young Auror's more caution and discretion than this, but it appears that the Minister is as foolish as ever, and you I am afraid will have to pay for his grievous error" he continued, his voice as dark and rough as Hermione remembered, its dulcet and brooding tones sending small tremors through her body, tingling along her spine and causing her heart to pound fiercely in her chest. "Now, hand over your wand like a good little Auror" he commanded teasingly, the ever-present sneering tones causing Hermione's body to stiffen with barely repressed anger. Don't loose your cool, not now she told herself as her fingers flexed around the vine wood that had grown quite warm in her clammy hands.
With mild pleasure and a smug grin Severus watched as the cloaked figure before him slowly extended a pale and delicate looking hand towards him, a gleaming shaft of wood grasped tightly in petite fingers. Flexing his own fingers around the handle of the extremely sharp kitchen knife he pressed the cool metal against the throat of his would-be captor a little more tightly, eliciting a faint gasp that made him smirk and all but purr in victory. His victory however, was to be short-lived. With surprising swiftness a heel stomped down on his bare foot causing his eyes to water as he ground out a deep growl of pain through his teeth, the muscles in his shoulders and neck shuddering with tension as he fought to keep his grip upon the knife steady. While he had no plans of letting this foolish Auror get away without thoroughly humiliating and terrorizing them first, he had no intentions of actually using the knife in his hand. A sudden stomp on his other unshod foot along with a well-timed elbow to his ribs undid Severus' barely maintained resolve, causing him to loose focus just long enough for his prisoner to make a small retreat.
Quickly stepping away from the slightly bent figure of her former Potions Master Hermione watched with a mixture of triumph and regret as he hobbled from one foot to the other while gripping his aching ribs, teeth clenched firmly as he exhaled a hissing breath. However, her years of training had taught her nothing if not to take advantage of an opponent's moment of weakness. Dismissing any feelings of sympathy she might have had with a solitary mental image of Professor Dumbledore's body splayed and broken at the base of the Astronomy Tower, she quickly raised her wand and shouted a shrill "Expelliarmus!" Hermione watched as the force of the spell knocked the knife from the Potions Master's hand sending it skittering across the floor while he wobbled for a moment before slumping back against the wall, several towers of books toppling into his lap and across his long legs.
Groaning both internally and aloud Severus surveyed his present situation in a quick scan of the room. His eyes fastened quickly upon his weapon of choice that now lay several feet away amongst a pile of discarded parchments, while his apparently successful captor stood an equal distance from him in another direction with a wand firmly trained upon him. It would be obvious even to a blind fool that he would never reach the knife before the Auror could cast some kind of spell, and he would rather not be on the receiving end of a hex or curse, he had suffered enough of those under the rule of his former Master's and tormentors. In a desperate effort to buy time and perhaps delay the inevitable long enough to devise some kind of plan he slowly raised his hand, shoving the few tendrils of ink black hair that had escaped the long braid that fell down his back away from his face. With an uninterrupted line of vision he looked up into the face of his captor, or at least what would have been their face had they lowered the hood of their cloak. He was admittedly more than a little irritated that they kept their identity hidden while he was so obviously vulnerable and at their will. Letting the renowned sneer of malice that had scared many students and fellow professors alike fall across his face, he titled his head to one side as though in thought and with black eyes glittering like polished obsidian he stared down the Auror and growled,
"Will you not show your face? Do you not wish for me to see the face of the dazzling young Auror who will be famous beyond belief now that they have captured the despised and despicable Severus Snape?"
He watched in smug amusement as a brief silence followed before the Auror bowed their head slightly, deepening the shadows within the large hood until it looked as though an empty cloak floated before him. For a moment the image before him was no longer that of a foolhardy and annoyingly lucky young Auror, but rather the floating and bone-chilling visage of a Dementor. His breath halted in his throat as his chest tightened, his heart clenching painfully as he looked up into the soulless shadow, feeling the small reserves of hope he had somehow managed to keep alive throughout the years fleeing quickly. Fighting back the subtle chill that threatened to run down his spine at the realization that if he was indeed captured that the Dementor's Kiss was his most likely future, he listened carefully as a soft and slightly rough voice said,
"I did not do it for the fame, I sought you out for answers Severus." Try hard as he might Severus could not keep the snarl from his lips or the dangerous gleam from his eye, not that he truly wished to as he ground out,
"Who are you that you take such liberties, calling me by my given name?" It was a petty thing yes, this he realized, but when all else that had ever mattered had been lost to him it was the small things that still gave him some sense of sanity.
"I have every right to call you by your given name" that obviously feminine and slightly familiar voice said slowly, almost cautiously.
Severus felt a small seed of hope take root in his heart as he continued to gaze up into the mysterious shadowed face before him, he easily detected the tones of apprehension within that cool voice, could all but smell the fear that radiated from the Auror. Barely repressing his smirk of amusement he gave a soft toss of his head to sweep the hair from his eyes again, the long and thick braid of his ink black hair bouncing over his shoulder to lay across his chest.
"And what, pray tell, do you believe gives you this right?" he sneered as he idly toyed with the end of the braid. His breath caught in his throat once more, his cheeks blanching momentarily with shock and then flushing crimson with anger as he stared up at the young woman standing before him.
Sweeping back the hood of her cloak swiftly Hermione said in a voice that thankfully did not betray the whirlwind of fear and sadness within her,
"Because you betrayed my trust."
"Your trust Miss Granger?" he all but chuckled in response, "I betrayed a great deal many more people than you Miss Granger, and none of them felt that it granted them the privilege of addressing me with such familiarity" he persisted in utter amusement as he casually folded his arms across his chest while continuing to play with the braid of his hair with an air of relaxation and calm.
"That's Auror Granger to you Mr. Snape!" Hermione suddenly snapped, her eyes flashing wildly in the light of the dancing flames.
"At least it is still Granger" he smirked, his mood growing ever lighter as amusement swelled within his chest, "I am relieved shall we say, that you did not marry Mr. Potter, or even worse his eternal side-kick and errand boy, Mr. Weasley." Severus watched with great delight as a bright flush rose to her cheeks, her eyes darkening in an instant as her temper flared. Ah so she is still fiercely protective of her friends, that could be used to my benefit he thought smugly as he watched her gradually rein in her emotions and regain control. "Oh, and that is Professor Snape, to you, Miss Granger" he crooned silkily.
"You lost the privilege of that title when you killed Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione quickly exclaimed, her hands curling into vicious fists at her sides while her chest heaved with erratic breaths. Instantly Severus was on his feet and no more than a foot from Hermione, his breath hot and smelling faintly of sweet spices as it flowed across her face. In that moment he did not care that he was unarmed, that Hermione had been skilled enough to make it through Auror training, survive the final battle and somehow manage to find him, all he cared for now was the dredging up of things he had much preferred to attempt to forget, and for the pain that gripped his heart like an iron fist.
"I lost a great deal more than a teaching position I never wanted when Professor Dumbledore died!" he hissed venomously, his voice barely above a whisper. "I lost much more than you, a foolish Gryffindor, could ever comprehend when… when…" his voice faltered, his body trembling subtly as his mind continued, when I killed the only person who ever cared for me.
"When you murdered him!" Hermione spat out, finishing the thought that continued to echo within his tortured mind. "Oh how you must have laughed when you saw him fall, when you conquered the man you had so artfully deceived for so long" she growled as her anger continued to bubble and boil just beneath the surface. Dejectedly Severus sank to the floor, slumping against the wall and toppled books feeling broken and empty as he thought sullenly, No Miss Granger, I wept and swore I would never do magic again.