A/N: Thank you for your lovely reviews! This story will be 4 parts and an epilogue, posted on Sundays.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Shrieking Shack closed in around her. The air was still crackling with magic, the smell of blood and something putrid hung in the air. Shakily, Snape rose to his feet in front of her. Had he always been that tall?
"Are..." Hermione began, but her voice broke. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Are you all right, sir?"
He raised a pale hand to his throat, and he seemed surprised it did not come away covered in blood. His eyes widened slightly.
"Sir?"
His head whipped towards her, black hair flying around his face. In two long strides, he was in front of her. Grasping the neck of her robes, he tugged her face close to his. His sour breath washed over her, but she didn't dare look away. Black eyes searched hers, thin lips curling over yellow teeth.
"Tell no one," he murmured.
His voice made Hermione's skin crawl. Then he pushed her away from him, hard. She shrieked, preparing to meet the floor.
Her eyes snapped open, the scream already dying in her throat. Rolling onto her back, she sighed and ran her hands over her face. It had just been a dream. Only it wasn't. It had been years since she dreamt of that night in the Shrieking Shack when she brought Severus Snape back to life.
A sliver of sunlight had found its way between the window and the blinds and directly into Hermione's eyes. Groaning, she sat and stretched. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her feet made no sound as she padded over to the window and pulled up the blinds. She was met with sunny blue skies, an abundance of gum trees, and the Brisbane skyline stretching out in the distance.
Hermione got ready for work on autopilot; her mind still on the dream – well, memory, really. After pushing her to the ground, Snape had staggered towards the boarded-up door. She had been too shocked to call out or follow him and had merely looked on as he pulled the door open and disappeared into the night. It had taken several minutes for her legs to stop shaking enough so she could rise and gather her belongings. Crawling back through the tunnel, she had been expecting the castle to be in an uproar with the appearance of the late Potions Master. But there had been none. Wherever Snape had gone to, it wasn't the castle. For months afterwards, she kept looking around every corner for billowing black robes. She had even contacted Kingsley, asking vaguely worded questions which he couldn't answer. Once spring had arrived she'd had to accept that Snape wouldn't make himself known. She had brought him back into a world he wanted no part of.
Sheathing her wand, Hermione put on her trainers and left the flat. The sun warmed her skin as she stepped outside. She would never get used to the flipped seasons in the southern hemisphere, though early August in Brisbane was still warmer than summertime in Scotland. After graduating from Hogwarts – with O's in seven NEWTS – she had applied to study Charms and Arithmancy at the Magical Institute of Brisbane. When she announced her move, Harry and Ron had been upset but understanding.
Moving continents and starting university had been a strange experience; Australia had been untouched by the war, and besides a few raised eyebrows at hearing she was from the UK, no one seemed to know who she was. It suited her just fine.
Hermione pushed the door open to a small coffee shop and smiled at the man behind the counter. "Morning, Hayden."
He smiled back, showing a row of white teeth. "Morning, Hermione! The usual?"
"Yes, please."
The Bean & Go café was – similarly to the Leaky Cauldron – a portal between the Muggle and magical communities. That was where the similarities ended though, as the café was all light woods and greenery. Coffee in hand, she went towards the back and through a door with the sign 'STAFF ONLY'. On the other side was an open square with benches and trees swaying slightly in the breeze. Facades of glass and modern lines lined the square, and Hermione steered her steps towards a one-storey buildingwedged between two taller ones.
She had been working as the Arithmancer for a private research company for the past four years. Her main motivation for studying Charms and Arithmancy had been to reverse the memory charm she had placed on her parents. She had been successful in restoring their memories, but the emotional bond had never reformed. They were on Christmas card terms now, and Hermione had come to term with it a long time ago.
Going into work, she greeted her colleagues and went into the small office she shared with another of the junior Arithmancers. Seeing that she was the first to arrive, Hermione sat at her desk and took out a small blackboard from the desk drawer.
It had been tempting over the years to do calculations regarding Snape, but she hadn't dared. With the reoccurrence of the nightmares though, she had to look. Doing the calculation, she pulled up his line. It was a deep blue, and as she followed it her brow furrowed.
What in the name of Circe was going on?
–
As she got home from work, Hermione put her feet on the coffee table, leant her head on the back of the sofa and sighed. Something was very wrong.
What could the calculations mean? She had tried everything, but there was no explanation for Snape's line suddenly ending. Unless...
Sitting up, she pulled up her own line. She had avoided doing this so far; doing Arithmetic calculations on oneself was always a gamble. Looking at her line – which was a pale yellow - she frowned. Just like Snape's, it just stopped. She did the numbers again, with the same results.
What if...
Pulling up a new calculation with their lines side by side, she changed her line to merge with Snape's. She gasped. The lines turned a silvery colour where they merged and they continued on, still merged.
She needed to find Snape.
–
That proved easier said than done, and as the weeks passed Hermione grew more desperate. She now did their calculations daily, with the same result. Unless she found Snape, they would both die. She had narrowed the calculations for the end of their lines down to Halloween. Of course, it would be on Halloween.
Desperate for any leads about Snape's whereabouts, she swallowed her pride and sent an owl to Canberra, where the Australian Ministry of Magic was located. A week later came the reply, with nothing written in the letter but a time and a place.
The next day, she Apparated to a park in Melbourne. Even though she was five minutes early, her companion was already waiting for her.
Jonathan gave her a once over. "You cut your hair."
Hermione touched the curls that now rested just above her shoulders. "That was years ago."
He shrugged. "I haven't seen you in years, Hermione. It looks good though. More manageable. Your hair always tried to strangle me when we were -"
"I didn't come here to reminisce," Hermione said sharply. "Do you have information for me or not?"
"I do." He pulled out a folder from the pocket of his light coloured robes. "I have to admit I'm curious about what prompted you to reach out, but I learnt not to ask questions long ago."
Hermione took the proffered folder. "That's because you're a smart man."
He grinned and ran a hand through his dark hair. "So I've been told. How've you been?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay."
He sighed. "I'm not surprised. I won't take up any more of your time, then." He paused. "I truly hope that you find whatever it is you're looking for and that you'll find some peace."
Before she could answer, he Disapparated.
She sighed. It was hard to think they'd loved each other once. Well, he had loved her. She had...been fond of him. Which was one of the reasons they didn't last; her incapability to let him in. Jonathan had been her first and last serious relationship. Second, if you counted those disastrous weeks she and Ron tried to be a couple, which she didn't.
Shaking herself from that trip down memory lane, Hermione Apparated back to her flat and opened the what was inside, her brows raised. That changed things.
–
Hermione had to take three different Port Keys to get to the small New England town where Jonathan's information claimed Snape was residing. It was early evening when she arrived and the sun was starting to set, casting a golden light over the trees and houses she could see in the distance. Transfiguring her beaded bag into a backpack, she headed into town. The wind rustled the leaves, and Hermione shivered. Though she'd made sure to dress and pack appropriately, she was used to Australian climate, which was a lot warmer than autumn in New England.
Off the main road she found a small hotel surrounded by large oak and maple trees. She was handed the key to a room on the first floor, and she thanked the woman behind the reception desk before ascending the rickety staircase.
The room itself was small but clean, and Hermione put her transfigured bag on the chair next to the door before sinking down on the bed. With a wave of her hand, she cancelled her glamour. She only tended to have it on while in public; otherwise there would be uncomfortable questions over why she had a racial slur cut into her arm. On her right arm she had another scar that was less noticeable but no less difficult to explain. Despite her healing charm, the cut she made for the ritual never healed properly. It had – once Ginny saw it – prompted a conversation with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall where she had to assure them she hadn't turned to self-harm to deal with her feelings.
She wasn't sure what her plan was now. According to Jonathan, Snape owned a used bookshop in the centre of town. She could probably find it – and Snape – right then if she wanted to, but a part of her brain told her to wait. Better to go in the morning.
After all, what would she say to a man she brought back from the dead and hadn't seen for a decade?
–
When Hermione stepped out of the hotel the next morning, all she could see was red and yellow leaves and blue skies. Looking around, she found herself smiling. She loved autumn. The chilly air, the transformation of the foliage from green to shades of reds and oranges and yellows. It felt as if the world was on fire.
She stuck her hands in her pockets as she started walking. She had been up most of the night – Brisbane was fourteen hours ahead – but had managed to get in a few hours of sleep in the early hours of the morning, before the nightmare shook her awake. If she was going to deal with Severus Snape on only four hours of sleep, she needed caffeine.
Down the street from the hotel, Hermione spotted a coffee shop that looked to be open. The bell above the door chimed when she entered.
The man behind the register – seemingly the only one in the shop – lit up in a bright smile. "Good morning! What can I get you?"
She approached the register. "Can I get an americano to go, please?"
"Coming right up." He started on her drink. "Are you British?" When Hermione nodded, he chuckled. "I thought I heard so. I don't have an ear for accents though, I get confused with the English and the Irish and the Australian. Are you in town for the literary festival?"
Hermione had read about the town's famous literary festival – and not so secretly hoped there would be time between saving her and Snape's lives to have a wander around. "I am."
"I hope you don't take offence, but you look like the type." He poured her coffee in a disposable cup. "There's a really good used bookstore over on Elliot Street run by an English guy; you should check it out."
Her pulse quickened. That must be Snape.
After Hermione paid for her coffee, she got directions to the bookshop and went on her way. The walk into the town centre – which was just a long main street – didn't take more than a few minutes. There weren't many people around, and with Hermione being used to both London and the bustling Brisbane, that felt odd. The town was very pretty, though, and reminded her of watching Murder, She Wrote as a child.
Sipping her coffee, she tried to plan what she was going to say once she saw Snape. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to just go into his workplace; it wasn't very Slytherin of her. It would probably have been best if she had kept her eye on him for a few days before approaching. Of course, if he was anything like he used to be he would sniff her out in a minute and all her sneaking would be for naught.
Her coffee was almost gone when she saw the white hanging sign with 'BOOKS' in large green lettering in the distance. A flag stating the business was open rippled in the breeze. Hermione stopped, looking across the street at the building where she would most likely find Snape. It was a one-storey building with dark wood siding and panelled windows. It looked exactly like the kind of place she could lose an afternoon just browsing through the books.
Tossing her cup in a bin by the road, she ran her hand over her mouth and did a Freshening Up spell. She had got quite proficient with non-verbal and wandless magic, and coffee-breath was nobody's friend. She knew she couldn't keep standing staring at the building without someone noticing, so she took a deep breath and crossed the street with semi-confident steps.
There was no bell above the door announcing her entrance. The shop itself was on the small side, with worn wood floors and books on practically every surface. It was very warm and cosy, and it almost felt like walking into a hug. As she looked around, she heard a small trill and glanced down. A pretty tortoiseshell cat with amber eyes and fluffy fur blinked up at her.
Hermione smiled. "Oh, hello."
The cat trilled again and rubbed its face against Hermione's jeans. Crouching, Hermione drew her hand over the cat's back. She could both hear and feel the purr, and she chuckled when the cat tried to climb into her lap.
"You're friendly. Are you here by yourself?"
She was so distracted by the friendly cat that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps.
"I'm sorry, is she bothering you?"
That voice. She had heard it practically every day for six years, and even though it had been a decade since she heard it last, it still had some sort of Pavlovian response on her.
Standing, Hermione came face to face with Severus Snape. "Good day, Professor," she said.
She only had a few seconds to note that he looked remarkably similar to when she saw him last – bar some streaks of silver in his black hair – before she found herself dragged through an open doorway on her left that she hadn't noticed.
They were in a small office – his, by the look of it – and she felt the Muffliato cut through the air as the door closed behind them.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snarled. Offhandedly, she noticed his teeth looked much better than they used to. Good for him.
"I need to talk to you."
"No. Get out."
She raised her eyebrows. "You brought me into your office just to tell me to get out?"
Snape's jaw clenched. "I brought you in here so I wouldn't Avada you on the spot and expose myself as a wizard to my customers and employees. Now that I've succeeded in doing so, I can tell you to bugger off."
Hermione leant against the desk. "I'm not one of your students anymore, Snape, and you don't frighten me. I wouldn't be here unless it was important."
"I don't particularly care what you have to say."
There was a scratching sound on the door and a loud meow that told everyone that the cat was not pleased. Snape swore under his breath and reached behind him to open the door slightly. The tortoiseshell cat entered and butted its head against Snape's boot.
"Damn cat," he scowled, closing the door.
The cat had spotted Hermione, and it jumped up on the desk to rub against her sleeve. Hermione scratched the cat's chin.
"I think he likes me."
"It's a she. And she did always have a piss-poor judgement in people." Snape glowered at the cat as if he was offended it had taken a liking to Hermione.
"What's her name?" Hermione asked, trying to stop the cat from licking her eyelashes.
"Minnie," came the reply, spoken through clenched teeth.
Hermione looked at him, surprised.
He rolled his eyes. "I didn't name her, trust me." Then he seemed to catch himself, and shook his head. "What I did or did not name my cat is irrelevant. I want you gone."
Hermione dropped her hand from Minnie's back. "And I told you, I can't do that. I've been having dreams, well nightmares really, about that night in the Shack. When I brought you back. You've had them too, haven't you?"
Snape's eyebrow rose and he gave her such a look she half expected him to tell her that her potion was subpar and to take 5 points from Gryffindor. "You've tracked me down after a decade to ask how I'm sleeping?" his voice was dangerously soft. "Of all the imbecilic, arrogant dolts I've had the misfortune of meeting, you are the worst." Reaching out, he picked up Minnie – who yowled in protest of not being the centre of attention – and scowled. His threatening aura was somewhat lessened by Minnie rubbing her face on his chin. "I want you out of my shop and out of this town. Go back to wherever you're living now and leave me the fuck alone."
He threw open the door, the Muffliato cancelled. It was a clear sign that he thought the conversation over.
Hermione pushed herself off the desk. "I'm not going to do that. When you're ready to talk, I'm staying at the Whetstone, room 114." She stopped in the doorway. "I know you can feel it; death breathing down your neck. Soon it'll be too late."
She stepped back out into the sunshine, which felt a little cooler than it had previously.
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