Minerva had given her a curious look when she asked for the address. Severus Snape was hidden in London, only Minerva knew how to locate him. Hermione Granger knew this. As much as she loathed admitting to anyone whom she was seeking out, it was a necessary evil to get her what she wanted.
Once she had memorized the room number, Hermione made her way to London and climbed the stairs of the dirty hotel with a stolid determination. She supposed numbness was a better response to her mission than abject terror.
A few knocks on the door produced a rather haggard Snape, dressed sloppily in Muggle clothing that did not quite fit his lithe form. He looked neither surprised nor pleased to see her, but he did not ask her to leave. They regarded one another in silence. Hermione felt her hands begin to shake a little and she marveled at the effect this shell of a man could still have on her after all this time. Taking a breath, she broke the stillness.
"I asked Minerva for your address. I wanted to… ask you something." She paused for a response.
He tilted his head to the left, looking vaguely bored. "Well?"
"You've lived through two wars now. You've seen more than any of us can imagine. You're committed unknown atrocities and lived to tell the tale. You have memories of actual events that would overshadow any nightmare…" She had gotten carried away and she knew it, but it was so hard to stop, once she sent herself on this track.
Snape said nothing for a moment, but his breathing seemed to have accelerated just a bit. "Well, if I am in need of a resume, I will be sure to let you know." He motioned as though to close the door, but she held her hand out to stop him. Some other part of her brain noted that he was thinner than ever.
"I need to know, Sir. Please."
He stared at her hand, splayed firmly against his breastbone. She removed it quickly as though he had burned her.
"How do you deal with the memories? How do you live with…everything?"
There was another long silence. He would not look at her and she began to think he would not answer her at all. When he did speak, his voice sounded rusty, as though from disuse. "There are potions for the nightmares. The rest… perhaps in time…"
"I have given it time. I shouldn't feel this way, not anymore. The war is over. We won." Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.
He shook his head slightly.
"We won." She repeated flatly.
"Still focusing on the bigger picture, eh, Miss Granger?" His eyes flashed as they finally met her own. She was taken aback, but said nothing. After taking a minute to scowl dispassionately at the ground, he continued. "When I was the Head of Slytherin House, I gave a speech every year to the first years. I made it very clear to them that I would never coddle them. I was not there to replace their mums. I would do my best to see them through the year alive and well. All problems of a personal nature were none of my concern. They were to deal with these things on their own."
"A simple dismissal would have done the trick, Sir." Hermione turned, a little huffily, on her heel to leave when a hand alighted on her shoulder.
"If I had spelled out every little upset and dressed every small wound, they would never have survived this far. Cosseting them and treating them like children-"
"They were children."
"Treating them as such would not prepare them for the real world, where no one else can ever truly solve your problems for you." He snorted elegantly, "Besides, I could hardly be concerned with the minutiae of their pathetic little lives."
Hermione glanced down at the long fingers still curled lightly over her shoulder. "I know I should never have come to you. I don't have the faintest idea why I did. I just thought that… someone who has pulled himself out of so much darkness must have some kind of insight."
"It is all the luck of the draw, Miss Granger. For better or worse, I survived. Many others did not. There is no logic or reason in it, which is why you cannot seem to comprehend." The words were meant to be cruel, but the tone was surprisingly gentle. He released her shoulder and stepped back into the doorway. "I wonder that Minerva prized you so highly when you obviously understand so little about life. But I suppose it was certain connections that made you-"
"Don't you dare." She whirled to face him, burning with righteous indignation.
"Good. Anger is said to be a step in the right direction. Go work on the others somewhere that is not in my immediate presence."
"Provoking me will not-" She choked on the words that wanted to leap out of her throat and slap the smugness off of his face. "It won't assuage your guilt."
Snape suddenly looked very tired. "Go back to your friends, Miss Granger. The war is over. The side you picked won. Go. Celebrate. What else is there left to do, after all?"
There was an unceremonious slam and Hermione found herself staring blearily at a blank wall as the tears that had fought so long to fall spent themselves in abundance.