2. Who Is The Fool?
Severus Snape let go of the railing to which he clutched and allowed himself to crumple to the floor. He was in more pain than he ever thought possible. Along with the Cruciatus Curse, the Death Eaters had thrown a few stinging, burning and cutting hexes in there too. Of course, they would have killed him eventually if it were not for Remus Lupin.
How ironic. After seven years of standing, being apathetic towards the pain and suffering that Snape had received at school, Lupin eventually decided to step in. Of course, the perpetrators were not his best friends this time. Many troubled thoughts like these danced around in Snape's mind until eventually there were so many that he could not pick one from the other.
Hey lay there in a sobbing, bloody heap on the rotting old floorboards for what must have been hours. Several short, smart raps on the door finally interrupted his delirium.
Snape lifted his head and made an effort to ask who was there, but found that he was unable to speak with enough volume for anyone to hear. The only company that he was likely to expect would be that of one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters to finish off what they had started, but he seriously doubted that they would be polite enough to knock.
He no longer had the strength to hold his head up and succumbed once again to the pain that swept his body. He could hear his visitor tapping the door with what he could only assume was a wand, the door being pushed ajar and light footsteps stepping inside.
Ordinarily, if anyone had entered Snape's property without permission, they may have seriously regretted being born. Right now, however he was beyond caring.
"Professor Snape?" quietly called a young, nervous voice.
Snape recognized it immediately. Hermione Granger.
"Professor?" Hermione edged forward and slowly placed her hand on Snape's shoulder, as though approaching a dangerous, unpredictable animal. Upon her touch, Snape slowly moved his head to look at her. She smiled at him gently.
"Miss Granger, why on earth are you here?" he whispered, almost inaudibly. He had attempted to sound as professional and as strong as possible, like the Professor Snape that Hermione remembered, not the broken wreck that she saw before her.
"Professor Lupin told me what had happened and that you were in a pretty bad way, I couldn't believe that they had just left you here, I had to do something."
"Interfering busy-body as usual then, you have not changed much Miss Granger. Besides, it is not safe for a young witch out on her own tonight, I thought that you at least may have had the common sense to realise this." Every word spoken by Snape caused him great pain, but he was determined to show as little weakness as possible. In fact, he actually found that he was enjoying insulting his pupils as he once had.
"I can take care of myself Professor. You however seem to be in a very different situation. Come on and we will get you sorted out." She went to reach for his arm in order to help him up, but he wouldn't let her.
"Get off of me, I don't need help from a…" Snape began, but stopped himself before he realised what he was about to say.
"From a what Proffesor? From a student? From a mudblood? Well, sir, I beg to differ but it seems to me that you need help from whoever the hell is willing to offer, and I can tell you that they are not queuing up outside of the door." Hermione stood, furious; her hands on her hips, gesturing towards the door.
Snape knew that it was true; he knew that he needed help, but never in his life had he ever asked anyone, besides Dumbledore, for help. He found the offer patronising, just as he did when Lily Evans had attempted to help him by stopping James Potter from publicly humiliating him. It wasn't that he particularly disliked 'mudbloods'; he simply knew how to attack someone's sorest spot. That outburst had cost him a dear friend, and this one could cost him his life.
He looked up at Hermione, defeated, and offered her his hand. She took it and placed her other arm around his back, in order to hold him up. She hadn't realised that he would need quite so much support, and although he was not a particularly heavy man, Hermione struggled slightly. She led him up the hall into what she assumed was the kitchen and helped lower him down onto an old, wooden chair that sat in front of a glossed, yellowing table. The small, pokey kitchen was dirty and unused. She switched the light on. The light made Snape look worse than she had expected. He had definitely lost weight since he last taught at Hogwarts. His hair was greasier and more straggly than usual and was matted with blood. His face was a mass of cuts, swells and bruises. There was a particularly nasty one underneath his right eye that was causing his eye to swell to the point where he could barely open it.
Snape leaned heavily on the table in front of him and took deep breaths as though every second was a struggle. Hermione turned the kitchen tap on, half expecting it not to work, to her surprise, clear, cold water came pumping out. She let it run as she searched the cupboards. She eventually produced a small, metal bowl and some mangy cotton. She filled the bowl with cold water, tapped it with her wand and said "Thermotis". The bowl of water began to steam. She the took the cotton, tapped it with her wand and said aloud, "Polyproctus Sanitactus!" The cotton then suddenly quadrupled in size and became bright white.
"OK, I'll clean you up a little, and then you can go and take a bath whilst I brew a healing potion for you." Hermione informed
Snape took a deep breath and prepared himself to speak.
"You brew a healing potion? I know that you believe yourself to be a cut above your fellow pupils Miss Granger, but I doubt that even you could manage such complex magic, despite your excess arrogance." That felt good.
Hermione sighed.
"I don't think that you quite understand Professor, that this will not work if you continue to try and stop me from helping you."
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot understand…"
"Do you want to die here? Do you? Because that it what will happen if you carry on like this. You will die here a lonely, forgotten man who killed the only person who trusted him, and betrayed his master. You will die here, and no one will even realise, or care, that you are dead. Your body will have been half consumed by the rats before anyone even finds you." Hermione had to stop as she found herself choked with tears that she struggled to hide.
"Why do you care?"
"Pardon me?"
"Why do you care if I live or die? Or what people think of me?"
Hermione was looking at the floor in an attempt to hide her face from Snape. She looked up at him, into his sunken, dark eyes.
"Because I believe that somewhere in there, there is a good man. I think that somewhere in your life, something went wrong, and that this is not how it was supposed to be."
He looked at her with curiosity, as though he was realising something for the first time. Hermione sat down on the chair next to him and squeezed his hand, half expecting him to pull away, but he didn't.
"You still have a chance Professor, to show everyone what you can be. I don't believe that you saved Harry tonight simply because you wanted our protection, and I never have believed that you betrayed Professor Dumbledore."
"Then, Miss Granger, you are a bigger fool than I thought you were." Snape pulled his hand away from hers and buried his face in his hands, fighting the tears and memories that began to consume him.