Chapter Nine: Magic in the Mountains

It was noon on a sunny and windy Tuesday two weeks later when Alexandra got off a bus in the centre of a small village northwest of Perpignan. The few shops were closing for the midday break, it was quiet. Alexandra was dressed for a vigorous hike: Walking boots and combat trousers, a light-weight anorak and a backpack. She consulted a map and set off, following the course of a small river. The previous week had been hard and tedious work, and she had often been on the brink of giving up. Local people obviously were fed up with the media interest in the mysterious hermit and his medicine and did not volunteer information willingly. Alexandra had finally found the owner of the market stall, Madame Derusseau, an elderly, formidable woman with jet black hair and a very large bosom and had inspected some of the hermit's other products. The salves, shampoos and soaps hadn't revealed anything and the woman had flatly refused to tell her more about the man, no pleas, bribes or coaxing could persuade her to change her mind. So Alexandra had finally decided to give her search a rest – for the time being at least. She intended to walk off her frustration and visit an old monastery deep in the mountains. It was a tourist attraction and she could have taken a bus right to the site, but she wanted to free her thoughts from the constant presence of Severus Snape and hoped a brisk walk through unspoilt nature would do the trick. So now she was on her way, following the meandering river right back to its source in the mountains.

After one hour of brisk walking the path stopped going uphill, emerged from the dense wood and became level again. The wind freshened and created a tinkling sensation on her hot face. Time to slow down for a break and a picknick. She walked on, looking for a place to sit down. Suddenly a roof came into view, then the rest of a small cottage built from the local stone of greyish brown, surrounded by an overgrown garden. She stopped and looked at it in surprise. It seemed to be intact, but there was no sign of it being lived in, such a long way from the village and civilization. It was a lonely spot indeed, she had not met a soul on her way from the village. Curiously she walked down the small path that led to the house. It looked like the very definition of the adjective 'picturesque'. There was an old wooden bridge across the narrow stream and then she was at the hedge that surrounded the garden. She hesitated and looked around. Still no trace of inhabitants. No washing on a clothes line, no children's toys, no vehicles, no garden tools. The garden was overgrown, but also full of alluring colours and smells. Something seemed to draw her towards it, made her ignore the knowledge that this had to be private property, some secret force prevented her from turning round and going back to the main path. So it seemed only consistent to throw caution to the wind and try the handle of the wooden garden gate. It opened noiselessly. She waited, listening for sounds of people living here, her heart beating rapidly. Then, on an impulse, she entered - and at once found herself held in a fierce grip, a strong arm around her throat and something pressed to her temple. She closed her eyes, cursed herself for her stupid carelessness and curiosity and expected whatever was in stake for her now. But instead the grip was released and she heard a familiar, incredulous voice saying softly, "Ms Moody?!" before she collapsed on the grass…

Alexandra drifted to the surface. She felt the warm sun on her face and warm, weathered wood beneath her back. There was a strong smell of lavender and the humming of bees. A hand was in her hair, gently pushing it back from her forehead. It felt good, she didn't want it to stop and so she kept her eyes closed. Suddenly she was overcome with an overwhelming urge to sneeze. She couldn't resist it, her nose exploded violently and catapulted her back into reality.

"Oh, hello," a deep, mocking voice said next to her right ear.

She turned her head and froze. There was none other but Severus Snape, crouching next to the wooden bench on which she was lying. Alexandra couldn't help staring at him, taking in his appearance and at the same time not believing her eyes. The years of strain and misery had left their traces in the lines of his thin face and in his unfathomable eyes, but still he looked much better than he had at their last meeting. His hair, now liberally streaked with grey, was back to shoulder length, and his face showed the light, freckled tan of the very fair-skinned people. He didn't wear robes. She could see a white shirt that clearly had seen better days, open at the neck and the sleeves rolled up to reveal sinewy, tanned arms. He, too, regarded her with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied uncertainly and struggled into an upright position. He straightened and sat down next to her on the bench.

"First theft and now trespassing – your criminal record is getting quite impressive, Ms Moody," he remarked with a mocking smile .

When she didn't respond, his expression became serious and he asked, "How did you find me?"

Alexandra snorted, rummaging in her rucksack for a handkerchief.

"Actually, I didn't. I tried, but ran against walls everywhere, so I gave up. I had no idea you lived here. I was on my way to the monastery, when I came across this lonely house and was just curious."

Her voice sounded very thin. She still felt like in a dream. There was Severus Snape sitting next to her on the bench amidst the smell of lavender and the humming of bees, wearing faded jeans and no shoes. And when he didn't reply, but just kept looking at her with his raised eyebrow and a faint smile of disbelief on his lips, she told him how she had stumbled over the word 'magic' in the newspaper article and about her further investigations, which had led to Madame Derusseau and from there to nothing.

He frowned at her, then lowered his eyes and studied his fingernails. Alexandra watched him. His hands were still hard and calloused and told of manual work. She felt the ridiculous need to touch them and clasped her own hands tightly around her handkerchief in order to resist the temptation. They were listening to the garden sounds. After a while his dark eyes were on her again.

"Why did you want to find me?" he asked, and when she did not answer, he continued with a voice full of sarcasm, "Do you intend to write another article about me? Or a book?"

The questions came like a slap in the face. Insolent bastard! He had not changed a bit. But she forced herself to remain cool. She looked at him and grimaced. "Oh, I don't really know. Curiosity, I suppose."

"Curiosity? You wondered if the former Death Eater and convict was able to become a useful member of society, didn't you?"

She shrugged and stared straight ahead at the lavender bushes, deciding not to rise to his bait of acid. Curiosity, yes, but there was something else, something she had been unable to ignore for the past two years: Severus Snape had been haunting her mind and her heart, she had never been able to quench the passionate desire to see him again. But she wouldn't admit it, not after his sarcastic remarks.

He looked at her with that strange expression again.

"This cottage isn't on the way to the monastery. You took the wrong turning about half-way between the village and here," he said slowly.

Alexandra lifted her hands in defeat. "Women can't read maps."

"Maybe, but I don't believe in coincidences," he replied firmly.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering he got up and went over to the edge of a small herb garden. There he stood with his back to her and his arms folded in front of his chest. Alexandra was left to stare at his back once again and was hit by a bitter sensation of déja-vu. She suddenly was furious with herself. How could she have forgotten his behaviour at the Ministry? It had been a mistake to look for him. He was not keen on human company, now no more than he had been two years ago. And he certainly was not keen on her company. What a fool she had been!

"I'd better go now. I really want to see the monastery, it's famous," she said and picked up her backpack.

"Wait!" He turned abruptly and came towards her.

"It's a long way to go," he added slowly, as if each syllable caused him an immense effort. "I could apparate us there. I just have to fetch my shoes."

Alexandra stared at him in disbelief.. What did this mean now? Did he not want to get rid of her as soon as possible?

"You don't have to go out of your way to entertain me. I don't want to give you any trouble," she said coldly. Touché, she thought triumphantly when she saw his mouth twitch.

But his voice remained calm and polite. "You don't. I like the place, I go there quite often. Wait."

With this he went into the house and returned wearing stout walking boots and a black jumper slung over his shoulders.

"Are you ready, have you done side-along apparition before?"

She nodded and tried to suppress a shiver when he pulled her into his arms. With a soft plop they vanished and after the usual nauseous feeling of disorientation she found herself in a solitary spot in the woods higher up in the mountains. He released her and she shuddered.

"I don't like apparition very much," she explained in response to his enquiring eyebrow and followed him down a small rocky path towards the entrance of the building.

There were quite a few visitors around. Severus pushed the old wooden door open. Inside there were a ticket counter and a small shop. The woman behind the counter greeted Severus enthusiastically with the customary kisses and a torrent of rapid French, both of which he answered fluently, ignoring Alexandra's open-mouthed stare. She could only follow parts of the conversation, but she understood that as Severus' friend she would not have to pay the entrance fee, an offer she declined vehemently, until the lady shrugged and accepted her money.

"No obligations to former Death Eaters, is it?" Snape said sarcastically as he held open the door to the cloisters.

"No obligations to anybody," she answered coldly and stepped over the threshold.

He laughed softly and directed her attention to the monastery's famous stone masonry at the top of the pillars. He explained the strange apocalyptical carvings to her and pointed out every detail, making other English speaking visitors gather round to listen. He must have spent hours examining the figures and reading about them. His cold and sarcastic behaviour was gone. She listened attentively, forgetting her anger and disappointment, enjoying his presence, his voice and his enthusiasm. When there was nothing left to see, they climbed the narrow stairs to a small balcony outside the highest tower. It provided a splendid view over the mountains. They stood and watched. It was peaceful up here, and quiet, the other tourists did not seem keen on climbing the steep steps.

"It's my favourite spot up here," he finally remarked quietly. "There's powerful ancient magic in these mountains, can you feel it?"

She started slightly, then shook her head, "I'm a Squib, I can't feel magic," she said simply.

He looked at her and grimaced. "Sorry, this was stupid of me, I forgot."

Again they stood without speaking. She cast sidelong glances at him. He seemed at peace here and after a while peace was what she felt, too. An overwhelming sensation of peace and contentedness. There was no need for talking, the silence was part of the scenery, of the sinking sun and the fading light, it was not embarrassing. She was comfortable in his presence here high up in the mountains…

Reluctantly she remembered the bus she intended to take back to the village and glanced at her watch..

"I must go."

He started and looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he just nodded and led her down the stairs and out of the building. They went down the uneven footpath to the bus stop in silence; soon she would be on the bus and would never see him again. So she had found him in the end, but he certainly wouldn't invite her back. He was not interested in company, he was not interested in her. Over the past two years she had succumbed to illusions, imagined a relationship that had never existed. What a fool she was!

She didn't watch the path in front of her, her foot slipped on a loose stone, she lost her balance, felt a sharp stab of pain in her ankle and fell.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, tears in her eyes, struggling to get up.

Snape took her arm and helped her stand. She couldn't use her right foot, her trousers were torn at the knees, her knees and her right hand were grimy with dirt and blood. She hated the tears of pain and shame that were running down her face, but was unable to stop them.

"Merlin! Get a grip, woman, you're still alive", Snape said mockingly. Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth to stop the crying. Oh, how she hated him. She wanted to leave, never see him again. And then she realized she couldn't. She couldn't walk and she had missed her bus anyway.

"Oh shit, damn fucking shit!" she whispered, wiping her face with her arm, smearing it with blood and dirt.

"I agree wholeheartedly, Ms Moody, but you'd better take this."

He handed her a handkerchief.

"Take it, it's harmless, not poisoned or anything", he added impatiently when she hesitated. Grudgingly she took the handkerchief and tried to clean her face. What a sight she was! What was she going to do now?

"Come back with me, I'm going to have a look at that foot", he said as if he had read her thoughts. She looked up and met his eyes. He shrugged and with a lopsided smile bent down to pick her up and carried her to a solitary spot a short way into the forest. From there they disapparated.

Thanks to J.K.Rowling for inventing these inspiring characters