I'm still here. Still struggling with a crappy real-life situation, but on my way back up. Your supportive messages and reviews during my absence have meant the absolute world. Thank you. I promise this story will never be abandoned. You can follow my authorpage on facebook – SlytherPouf, for updates, if you want to. Pouf x
Chapter 26
Hermione walked briskly down the dungeon corridor, safe in the knowledge that all Slytherins were currently barging their way to the front of the queue for the carriages that would take them down to Hogsmeade Station, to catch the train home for the Christmas holidays. She had a few minutes to spare, at least. Her trunk was remaining here at Hogwarts to save her lugging it home to her parents' house, and she had only a small bag containing nothing but essentials. Everything else she needed was already at home, in her bedroom.
She entered the Potions classroom without knocking, enjoying the brief look of annoyance that Snape threw in the direction of the door, at the unexpected intrusion. His features softened when he saw that she was his invited visitor, but yet he still did not smile, nor verbalise a greeting.
In all the general busy-ness and frivolity that accompanied the break of term, and the approaching festive holiday, Hermione had not seen her professor since the night of the Yule Ball, three days previously.
Snape had left her where he'd found her, high above the rest of the school, against the cold stone wall of the clock tower, leaving her not with words of farewell, but with kisses so meaningful that they'd shaken her core with as much desperate passion as his lovemaking had.
She'd watched him unwillingly walk away from her, straightening his coat as he walked towards the stairwell, where he would descend what seemed like a hundred steps in order to return to the top floor of the castle. They had certainly been well-secreted, which was wise, considering the other events that had passed, previously that evening.
The Aurors had arrived for Professor Briner the morning after the ball, and what seemed the entire school leaned out of the long windows to watch not only their arrival, but also their return journey back to the boar-topped gates, magically escorting the disgraced Transfiguration professor.
The headmistress had taken it upon herself to teach the remaining Transfiguration lessons, since there were so few left in the term, announcing that she would be interviewing for Briner's replacement over the holidays, and that students should return to school in the New Year expecting to find their new professor in place. Her old Head of House looked tired and careworn, for perhaps she was feeling guilty about her appointment of Professor Briner having gone so very wrong, and resulted in an attack upon a student, Astoria Greengrass.
"I wondered if I would be seeing you today," Snape observed, as Hermione walked through the rows of student workbenches to reach his own large teaching desk at the front of the room, where he sat marking parchments, just as she'd expected to find him doing.
"You could have come to me," she replied, reaching the desk and placing one small hand over his large one, stilling the movement of his quill.
"That would have been most inappropriate."
"I think we've gone beyond inappropriate, surely, Sir?"
The corner of his mouth quirked up in an approximation of a smile. He sighed, putting his quill down and pushing his wheeled chair back, indicating that his lap was available to receive her. Hermione gently sat down; and was gratified to feel his long arms fold around her. She swung her legs to one side and placed a hand on his forearm, which was resting across her thighs.
"I find myself hard-pushed to care, Miss Granger," he replied, leaning his head back against the black leather of his huge desk chair. "I have been trying to summon up some guilt over the fate of Richard Briner, his actions so similar to my own, but …"
"Stop that now," she interrupted, holding a finger to his lips, watching his eyes betray his surprise. "You are nothing like Professor Briner. Everything we have done has been consensual, and not done without a great deal of thought and discussion beforehand!"
"I am not sure there was much discussion on the clock tower, girl," he shot back, with a wry smile. "I seem to recall that being a most unwise choice of venue."
Hermione saw a light in his black eyes that indicated he was attempting to make a joke, and she smiled, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, which felt warm and dry, even though his face always looked so cold and unwelcoming.
"Thank you," he said, receiving her kiss.
"For what?"
The dark professor sighed again.
"For many things, Hermione Granger. Many things."
After waiting a few seconds for more, it seemed that he was not going to elaborate. Hermione absently stroked his arm, still mindful that she was sitting on the lap of the Potions Master in an unlocked classroom, and that she only had a short time before the final thestral-drawn carriage left for Hogsmeade.
"Where are you going to be spending Christmas?" she asked, getting straight to the point, and frowned as he raised his eyebrow in reply.
"Where do you think I will be? Here at the castle, of course."
"But don't you …?"
"Have anyone to celebrate with?" he interrupted, in a scathing tone. "Come on, girl, I am quite sure that you have learned more about me than to ask that?"
"Well, I don't …"
"I shall remain here. I do not have to cook or clean, and I can work with ease."
He didn't seem to be raving with excitement at the thought.
"Can I stay? I mean, students are permitted to remain at school during the Christmas and Easter holidays if they wish, and I can study, and … spend time with you."
Snape took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it, slowly.
"Hermione," he began, taking hold of her hand. "As tempting as that sounds, there would be no quicker way to expose the … interactions that take place between us. I for one would be reluctant to allow you leave my rooms."
He smirked as he said the last bit, and she couldn't help but return it.
"Come to my house, then. You don't have to tell anyone where you are going. Just say you are spending the Christmas holiday at your home. I'll be alone, as I doubt I'll be very welcome at the Weasleys this year, whatever Ginny says."
"Miss Weasley has indicated that you should attend her family home for Christmas?"
"She really wants me to, and so does Harry. He's living there at the moment, because he doesn't want to be in Grimmauld Place by himself, even though its rightfully his. Ron is just such … such …"
"Mr Weasley is an idiotic young wizard. I suggest you allow him no more space in your mind."
Hermione privately thought that Snape was entirely correct, but it felt disloyal to Ron to agree, so she just shrugged.
"I'll just stay at home," she confirmed. "No doubt my friends will visit, and I need to prepare my parents' home for sale."
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"What has brought about this decision?"
"Since you told me that a memory charm is irreversible. Mum and Dad have a new life in Australia; and aren't ever coming back. I need to accept that. Therefore I'm going to do some charmwork on the title deeds to the house and transfer them into my name so that I can sell it; and buy a small flat in or around where the Ministry is located, which will be ideal for when I start work there next year. I don't feel guilty about it, as I transferred my life savings into their Australian bank account, so they could set up home there."
He nodded, gravely.
"Do you require any magical assistance with the paperwork?"
"I have a few charms that I'm going to try."
"Very well."
"I should be going. I don't want to miss the train."
"Indeed."
"Are you sure you won't come? We could spend as much time as we wanted together. It would be chance to be together … outside school."
His eyes darkened at her words, and he took rather a long time to formulate an answer. Time that she didn't have, since she was already on her feet, needing to be at the top of the castle driveway, not hiding in the dungeon.
"I cannot even begin to fathom the notion of being with you outside of Hogwarts."
"With respect, Sir … Severus … what does that even mean?"
"We are not in a relationship, Hermione. Despite my obvious pleasure at the time we spend together, we must not convince ourselves that there is anything more to our interactions other than meeting a mutual need."
She drew in a deep breath of shock at his words. Of course, she knew he was right, but it still hurt to hear it. Hermione gathered her Gryffindor pride from where it had just metaphorically clattered to the floor at his words.
"I need to go. If you change your mind, consider the invitation an open one. I live at …"
"I know where you live. Your address was very high on the list of the Dark Lord's Muggle targets. It is not somewhere I shall quickly forget."
-xxx-
As he watched her nod quickly in reply, chewing the inside of her cheek and hurriedly wishing him a pleasant Christmas and mumbling something about catching the carriages, before hot-footing it out of his classroom, Severus realised that his answers may have been a little curt. He had upset the girl.
Fuck.
The last thing he wanted would be to cause pain or distress to the one good thing that he had going on in his miserable, godforsaken joke of a life.
He had been trying to protect her; when he'd refused her invitation. The thought of the two of them together, out in the open; well … it was preposterous. A young, beautiful, intelligent witch like Hermione Granger, strolling arm-in-arm along Diagon Alley with a surly, reviled, dark wizard old enough to be her father? It was so exquisitely painful to imagine that Severus actually winced at the thought. What a ridiculous couple they would make! Who knew what denigration they would receive from the wider magical community, most of whom would be disgusted at their unholy union, and the obvious matter of the professor's corruption of a young girl in his care.
She's of age, a little voice in his head chirped. She came to you.
He silenced the voice by telling himself, in a stern internal tirade, that he had broken every rule of the professional educators' code. He was a disgrace, no better than Richard Briner, however much they tried to persuade themselves that he was different. He would do well to stay away from this girl. The two-week Christmas holiday would be an ideal opportunity to practice some restraint. He did not need her. He purely wanted her. And want, was a foible that was easily quashed.
-xxx-
A mere two days later, already sick and tired of Minerva's forced festive jollity and the insistence of his remaining colleagues upon imbibing alcohol at any hour of the day due to the Christmas holiday, meant that Severus was only too pleased to receive an owl from Frank Longbottom, indicating that he felt that his wife was finally displaying some kind of response to the targeted Forgetfulness potion, and inviting the potioneer to visit.
Severus arrived at the Longbottom family seat shortly before noon that same day, and even knowing the wealthy, ancient pureblood status of their family (the Longbottoms were a member of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' that Voldemort had set so much store by) he was still taken aback by the sheer size and grandeur of their home. It didn't take much to impress a poor mill kid from a crumbling northern estate, even one that lived most of the year in Hogwarts castle.
A sprawling country pile, the Longbottom residence was as large as Malfoy Manor, but was attractive and welcoming, rather than dark and oppressive. And no fucking peacocks strolling about, like the pampered pets of the arrogant Lucius Malfoy, who'd thought the ridiculous birds were a symbol of extreme wealth and superior good taste. No doubt it wasn't him that picked up their perpetual fetid shit from the manicured lawns.
A house-elf in a clean, pressed tea-towel opened the door with a smile, and led Severus to the visitors' parlour, where Frank and Augusta Longbottom were awaiting him. Unfortunately, the sight of the well-dressed, elderly witch only reminded Severus of the time that fucking Lupin had allowed Potter's class to see him in Boggart form, dressed in Augusta Longbottom's clothes.
He had been so incensed, at the time, that he had taught the entire class about werewolves, despite it not being on Lupin's lesson plan, hoping that one of the dunderheads might make the correlation between his teaching, and their Defence professor's monthly absences from class. The dunderheads must have presumed that the absent Professor Lupin was suffering a form of male menstruation every month, as no one aside from Miss Granger had deduced Lupin's true identity.
Severus quickly dampened down that thought, as he needed to concentrate on the task ahead, unfettered by thoughts of the young witch he had spent the last term fucking in secret, all about the castle.
Frank Longbottom looked much improved from the last time Severus had seen him, laying in the Janus Thickey ward at St Mungo's. He was dressed in well-fitting clothes, had clearly had a haircut, and his eyes were full of good humour, curiosity and vitality. Frank reported that he had continued to take the Forgetfulness potion in the low dose that Severus had advised, and that he'd had no nightmares, flashblacks, or mental distress since being freed from his own psyche.
He was still curious, Frank admitted, about the circumstances that led to his nearly twenty-year incarceration inside his own mind; but reiterated that he was following instructions to the letter, as he had no wish to suffer a psychological relapse and end up back there. The man would now have forgotten that the Cruciatus Curse even existed.
With enthusiasm, and fortified by a large pot of tea, Frank continue to express his thanks to Severus for returning him to his mother and son; and spoke warmly about how delighted he was to spend time with his son, and expressed pride in the fine young man that Neville Longbottom had become. Severus did not disagree.
At length, and bidden by raised eyebrows from his fearsome mother, Frank arrived at the subject of his wife. He had discharged Alice Longbottom from St Mungo's into his own care, after his own discharge, once he had proved he was of sound mind and had received control of his own legal affairs again. She was now living in the Longbottom family home, and spent her days in bed, as she had done in the hospital, only now she was in a bright, airy room, with views over the substantial gardens.
The windows were thrown open as often as possible, Augusta explained, to air the room and so that Alice could feel the breeze on her face. Frank stated that he felt sure his wife was responding to this. He had continued to administer her with the high dose of the Forgetfulness potion that Severus had provided him with; and advised that he'd felt on occasions that her eyes would focus, especially when the windows were first opened, and the first gust of cool wind hit her cheeks.
"She looks towards the source of the breeze, I'm convinced of it," Frank told him, in what seemed like a pleading, desperate tone. "If we can get her eyes to focus, you can open a Legilimency connection, can't you?"
"I can only try," Severus replied, not wanting to give this kind, gentle wizard, who had suffered so greatly, any false hope that he would have to later dash.
"Would you like to see her now?" Augusta Longbottom asked, abruptly.
"I think that would be best," he confirmed, privately wondering why Neville Longbottom had been scared of him, when the boy had been living with this old battle-axe at home. He should have been well-practised.
As they entered the bedchamber, Severus saw Longbottom at once, seated at his mother's bedside. His next thought was to notice that the room was awfully gloomy and rather muggy, which was unusual since Frank had told him how well-aired they kept the room.
"I suppose you are wondering why this room is dark and unaired?" snapped Augusta, turning sharply on her heel as she entered the bedchamber.
Severus did not answer her, for he was certain that the old woman was about to explain; and he was not left waiting.
"As my son has told you, he has managed to elicit some visual response from Alice when the window is first opened, and she feels the changing temperature and a breeze upon her face. We have purposely not opened it thus far this morning, to allow the greatest possible reaction for your attempt to Legilimise her."
"I see."
"Good morning, Professor Snape," stammered Longbottom, getting up from his mother's side.
Severus nodded his wordless response, for he was in no mood for pleasantries, and took the boy's place beside the stricken woman, arranging the chair between her bed and the window, as it was in this direction that her family believed she would look. Alice had been propped up with pillows into a sitting position, and although her eyes were open, they were as unfocused and unseeing as they always had been, whenever he'd seen her previously.
It was a crying shame. Alice Longbottom had been a formidable Auror, tragically cut down in the prime of life, leaving a months-old baby son. Even as she lay in an effective coma, she was still strikingly tall, her hair cut short, and her skin looking younger than her years would suggest, having spent the last two decades unexposed to the ageing rays of the sun. It was clearly from her side that her son had obtained his height, build and colouring, for Neville resembled Alice far more closely than he did Frank.
"Frank," he began. "You do realise that I can make you no promises? It seems that your wife's condition is worse than your own, and there is no guarantee I can bring her back from wherever she is trapped."
"I understand that," Frank replied.
"Furthermore, if she is so badly damaged that she cannot free herself, even with my assistance, there is every possibility that she may die in the attempt."
"Good."
The single, surprising word had come from the mouth of Neville Longbottom. Everyone turned to look at him. Surely, he would not want his mother to die? Augusta looked particularly appalled, however Severus suspected that the old crone generally wore a face that resembled a tight, disapproving knot.
"If we can't get mum back, the way you are, Dad, then I want her to die. I don't want her to be trapped in that hell any longer! If the only way she can live is to be trapped inside a prison in her own mind, then I really do wish her dead!"
Frank placed a reassuring arm around his son.
"Your professor will do all he can, I am sure, son," he told him, looking towards Severus for reassurance that he spoke the truth.
Severus gave a single nod and steeled himself, drawing his wand and attempting to prepare for whatever he may find in the witch's mind; if he managed to even gain access at all. If it was anything like her husband's mental prison, it was likely to be horrendous.
"I am ready," he advised the assembled family.
Augusta and Neville each drew back one of the heavily-embroidered drapes, whilst Frank ducked between them and threw up the sash window to its widest point, allowing a most welcome gust of cold air to sweep into the room, which was now so warm due to the amount of people present, that it had become almost cloying.
Alice Longbottom's face turned instantly towards the source of the cold breeze, and Severus saw her eyes searching for the cool relief. Now. This was his moment, and he must make his move immediately, lest he squander the small second of focus.
"Legilimens!" he cast, moving into the path of her vision with his own eyes wide open.
-xxx-
Severus had no idea where the fuck he was.
Frank Longbottom's mindscape had been a retreating sea, dark and perilous, but Severus had at least been able to see the man, despite being in the distance. Alice's was what appeared to be a coarse forest that seemed to be fighting the effect of the potion, not being calmed by it. It was, quite literally, terrifying.
Everywhere he looked there were gnarled tree branches, so spiked that they looked like rusted daggers or swords, extended menacingly at all angles, as well as underfoot and above his head. Severus forced himself to find his bearings; and attempt to make sense of his surroundings. A path to his right was sloping upwards, as if it led to higher ground, so he stepped towards it, only to be startled after two steps by the growl of a wild forest wolf, a slavering beast that came sloping out of the spiked bracken and blocked his path, foaming drool dripping from its fangs.
It is only a mindscape. None of this is real. Continue walking.
It was hard to put one foot in front of the other when everything felt so very real. Nonetheless, he pushed forwards, showing the creature that he was unafraid, and sure enough as he reached it, the wolf slunk back into the bushes, whimpering pathetically. It fed on the fear of Alice Longbottom's mind, and was no match for Severus' alert and logical psyche.
The path did indeed lead higher, and he continued to walk, shaking off the sentient sharp branches that tried to grab at his cloak as he fought his way along the narrow stretch.
None of this is real.
He had to keep reminding himself of this, every few feet, for his heart was beating in fear. This mindscape had been cultivated over twenty years to imprison, to torment, to punish. He was the first to invade it. It was not surprising that whatever festered here would do its best to keep him out.
As Severus reached a clearing, he realised that he was now a significant way up a large hill, further than he would have expected, given the relative distance he had walked. He could now look out over an immense valley, like a blanket of black and green between two huge hills, the top of each one jutting out over the valley like a wicked precipice.
"Who are you?"
The tortured voice rang out loudly across the mindscape. Severus looked for the source, and finally, dreadfully, he found it.
Alice Longbottom, tall and strong, yet mentally depleted, stood at the edge of one of the precipices, looking down over the valley. Unlike Frank had been, she was clothed, and her hair had grown long and wild, unlike the short crop that her living body wore.
Severus began to walk again, heading further up the path that led to the top of the perilously high hill, although his passage began to clear somewhat, as if Alice's psyche was allowing him closer.
"I am Severus Snape," he replied, still walking, his voice carrying across the mindscape as if it were no distance at all, which of course, it wasn't.
They were, outside of their conjoined minds, sitting next to one another in a bedchamber in the Longbottom home. If one of them were to speak, the other would hear them perfectly.
"Are you a Death Eater, Severus Snape?"
"I am not, Mrs Longbottom. I am a professor at your son's school."
"My son is a small baby! He does not attend school."
"Your son is nearly nineteen years old, Alice."
"You lie! How can that be?"
Severus reached the top of the hill; and was now merely a dozen feet away from her. There was a dreadful fear in her eyes, and her body looked poised for flight or fight. She was not defeated and physically shattered as Frank had been, but instead resembled a warrior, a fighter, someone who was ready for anything.
Was this why she had not reacted to the potion? Not because she was coping less well with the prison of her mind, but because she had been actively fighting against it for nearly two decades? Had the potion in fact made her worse, made her inner psyche less able to cope with where it was trapped?
"None of this is real, Alice," he told her, gently, his words now being whipped away by the harsh wind at the top of the hill. "Everything you see here, is a product of your own mind. You were attacked, dreadfully, and your mind was driven to this place. I have come to bring you home."
"Where is my son?"
"He is at home, with his father, Frank. He is … a brave and steadfast young wizard that you will be proud of. Will you not come with me, and meet him?"
She took a step towards the edge of the precipice; and looked down. Severus followed her gaze. The tops of the trees stuck straight upwards, with sharp points that resembled medieval spears, and wicked, jagged branches. It was also, curiously, littered with the remains of crashed carriages, and Muggle motor cars.
"They drive over the edge, you know," Alice told him, still looking down. "I tell them to stop, but no one ever stops. No one listens to me. Jump, they say. Just jump, Alice."
"Won't you come with me, Alice?" he asked, holding out his hand for her to take. "I can show you the way out of here. I can bring you home, for you have a husband and son that need you."
"I will never leave this place. I realised that long ago, Severus Snape. This world … it consumes me. It is my heart and my soul. I rule every piece of land that you see before you."
Her words sounded frighteningly insane, and he was scared for her. Despairingly, he realised that if he managed to bring Alice out of here, it was likely she had suffered a permanent brain injury that no pathetic potion was going to cure.
"Until recently," she continued. "Recently it appears that my kingdom has been fighting back. That is, it no longer recognises me as the ruler, as the controller. The trees – they have grown sharp and wicked. They wish to hurt me."
The potion. The Forgetfulness potion that was detaching Alice from her mental prison had caused her mindscape to turn against her; the complete opposite from the reaction that Frank had experienced, where his imaginary creations had softened with each dose that he'd taken. Severus could not cure this woman. He needed to extract himself from her mind, to immediately withdraw her doses of the potion, and allow her to return to some form of control, some form of comfort.
And what comfort is that, Severus?
The little voice in his head was niggling again. Alice Longbottom was a ghost. Her body was useless; and could not be connected to her mind. Was this living? Did not this brave witch deserve more, than for him to simply give up and retreat?
He took a step closer to her. He could almost touch her. He could take her hand, and mentally yank her from her own mind, no matter what the consequences. She may be brain damaged, but there was no doubt that Frank, Neville and Augusta would care for her. She may even achieve some recovery.
Severus made his decision.
Alice made hers at the same time.
She stepped over the edge.
Her tall body fell like a stone, gathering speed, heading towards the valley of evil below, the wickedly sharp trees that were waiting, with waving, evil branches, to claim her body.
Severus did not see what happened. Everything went black, and he was ejected from her mind with vicious force - for you could not hold open a Legilimency connection; when the subject was dead.
He opened his eyes and saw that it was pitch dark outside the still-open window. Once again, he had been gone for hours. Standing up, he quickly ran his wand over Alice's body and cast diagnostics. Nothing.
"She has gone?" he heard the old matriarch ask, a tremble to her sharp voice.
Severus turned around to look upon the three tired faces.
"She has gone," he confirmed. "Her heart is no longer beating. The strain was just too much for her weakened body."
There were no tears from the assembled family, only resignation.
Voldemort's regime had just claimed another victim. What an absolute waste of a life.