Chapter Three – Let Me In

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches. Are they looking at me?
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
So if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it
Somewhere only we know.
Keane – Somewhere only We Know

"…if I ever found reason to believe you hadn't just murdered a too-trusting old man, I would help you clear your name, if I could…"

Miss Granger's words echoed around in Snape's head long after he returned to his hospital room. It was lonely and quiet without his roommate, and Snape felt himself missing the other man a tiny bit. At least his chatter would have distracted Snape from his thoughts.

"What on earth did she mean? What reason did she find?" he mused aloud, but quietly, hoping not to attract the attention of anyone outside in the hall.

He'd covered his tracks well, he'd thought, in case the Dark Lord won. There should be no evidence, no way for anyone to find out any of the things he'd done. He wasn't quite sure why he still felt he had to hide it, but for some reason, he felt it was the thing to do.

"…if I ever found reason…"

She was willing to help him; that had to mean she had found a reason.

Interrupting his thoughts, the familiar mediwitch entered his room with his nightly dose, a little sleep potion added to it. As he drank, another darker thought occurred to him: Hermione would somehow have to convince the Wizengamot to lessen the restrictions placed on him for the murder of Dumbledore. She'd said she would do it, yes, but how could she? The Chief Warlock had told him at his first court appearance that "his heart was already in hell" and he didn't deserve to ever see the light of day again. As soon as his legs healed, he would be put in Azkaban so he could never use them again.

Snape had laughed in the woman's face. Obviously, she hated him—or hated the fact that Dumbledore was dead, one or the other. He'd known then as he knew now that he would never walk again, anyway, in Azkaban or out. Still, it would take a powerful piece of evidence to convince the court that his heart wasn't as hardened as they'd thought, no matter how influential Miss Granger had become.

And she had to know that, she had to. So did she have that evidence? If I were the type of man to fret and bite my nails, I'd be doing it right now. Thank Merlin that I'm not, he thought. He had a mental picture of a young Remus Lupin—rest his soul—biting his nails while taking an exam. Snape grinned despite himself, but his thoughts quickly turned reflective again.

He thought he'd covered up so well, but she must know. She must know it was me, he thought. I'm not as good as I used to be.

He was drifting slowly off to sleep, part of him feeling content because of the potion, but the other part was still puzzling over what Miss Granger knew or didn't…

When he woke the next morning, it was because he had a visitor.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, frowning.

"Good morning," she said sweetly. "Time to wake up."

"I'm up," he replied, sitting up in bed as he spoke. He rubbed his eyes and reached a hand up to turn on the light switch. "How early is it?"

"Not very, I don't think. I'm not sure; I don't keep much track of time lately. Tell me: how do your legs feel today?" Hermione asked.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "The mediwitch put you up to this, did she?"

"Well, yes. But I really do want to know." In a whisper, she continued, "And… do you think you'll ever walk again? Are you as optimistic as all the healers?"

"No," he said flatly. "I'll never walk. This," he said, gesturing to himself with both hands, "will be the remainder of my existence."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You do know about the power of positive thinking…"

"I don't care about the power of positive thinking. I've never had a positive thought in my life and I won't start now."

"All right," Hermione said agreeably. "Suit yourself. Anyway. Want to talk?"

"You really don't have any friends left, do you?" He smirked.

Snape watched Hermione visibly decide to ignore his rudeness. She raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "No, I don't," she replied. "But at least you're someone I've met once or twice before in my life. And you're someone who's not quite impressed with all my 'accomplishments.' I just might be able to have a decent conversation with you."

"Oh, I'm impressed. Just not for the same reasons other people are."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That was kind of a hint for you to tell me what your reasons are…" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm aware," he said, his mouth giving nothing away, but his eyes smiling. Hermione laughed. "I taught you everything you know about Potions… unless Slughorn managed to impart any of his knowledge to you. What I'm impressed with is my own teaching abilities."

She laughed again, and Snape thought that he might enjoy spending time with her if he could make her laugh like that again. It was a cheery sort of sound that he didn't get much of in the hospital-slash-prison he lived in.

"He did teach me a little," Hermione said, "but the potions concepts I actually used were all from you."

"Interesting. Tell me… All I know about the defeat of the Dark Lord is that it was planned by you and done using a potion. Give me details."

"Oh… it's so hard to explain." She made an excuse. It was always difficult to explain the plan, of course, but mostly she didn't want to feel like she was bragging. "Let's talk about something else."

"As you wish… but I'll bring this up again later, perhaps at a more inopportune moment." He really did want to know how she'd done it, how she'd brought down Voldemort.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" she asked, grinning. "I think you're losing your touch."

Snape frowned, however. "I think I am. I've noticed myself being softer lately. I blame the paralysis."

Hermione laughed again, loudly, and Snape felt pleased. He allowed himself a small smile.

"I'll tell you, just for being the first person to make me laugh in… probably years," she commented after she'd caught her breath

"Maybe you should take a seat," he suggested, smiling. He always got his way, somehow. "I think this is going to be a long conversation."

"I think so too," she said, raising both her eyebrows high. "Mind if I sit on your bed?"

"Go ahead." She took a seat, and made herself comfortable.

"Where to begin…" She thought for a moment, then said, "We… became aware--as I'm sure you'll know--that Voldemort was vulnerable only when he allowed himself to trust someone—and he only trusted others when he was beyond desperate. Obviously, the Order decided we needed to make him desperate, and thus vulnerable, so he would confide in one of our… informants, and we might learn some information.

"I set about researching ways to drive someone to desperation—ways to make someone so upset and so helpless that they would do things they'd sworn not to, things they would hate themselves for later. For some reason, I was drawn to the idea of using a potion. I reviewed everything I'd learned at Hogwarts, and I remembered that on the first day of Potions class, you mentioned Aconite."

"Aha," Snape said softly. "Researched it did you?"

"I did," she said, a slight smile of pride on her face. "Aconite is a poison, I'm sure you know. I learned that in ancient times, during war, enemies would poison each others' water supplies with Aconite. It seemed brilliant to me to bring Voldemort down without even using magic, but a plant. I devised a potion that would look innocent but have components which would all evaporate when heated. The liquid would become a gas. I brewed the potion in a very large quantity, and added some juice from crushed aconite to it. I put the potion in two big glass containers, heated them, and waited until it all evaporated inside the containers.

"Our informant had told us that Voldemort made his Death Eaters live in one of two locations—two so they couldn't both be attacked at once, I presume—both hidden, of course, and each in remote locations. He also told us the locations, leading us to believe he was the Secret Keeper and in Voldemort's inner circle, but that's beside the point. We cleared the surrounding areas of Muggles and wizards alike, then a team of Aurors and Order members—volunteers, of course, because it was dangerous—carried the containers to the locations and left them. Then, wearing Muggle gas masks by my suggestion, they flew up into the air and exploded the containers from a distance, releasing the gas.

"Miraculously, it worked," Hermione said, and Snape chuckled.

"Of course it worked. You were taught by the best."

She rolled her eyes at him. "We still had to bet on the Death Eaters not finding out. We didn't know if we could really trust our informant until after it worked."

Snape said nothing; Hermione hadn't expected him to. Then, wanting to get the whole story out before she lost her nerve, she continued. She'd only told parts of it, and only to reporters—it was nicer talking to someone she knew, yes, but not that nice; she still hated talking about it all.

"His Death Eaters were dropping like flies, and Voldemort was nervous and angry. The desperation—and vulnerability—came when he noticed, according to the informant, that if all his supporters were mysteriously murdered, he would be alone. He feared, rather irrationally, that we would be able to kill everyone. Of course we wouldn't, because that would leave our informant unprotected as the only Death Eater left alive. But irrational fear led to desperation, and he turned to our informant.

"When we finally got our information, it turned out to be more explosive than we had even hoped was a possibility. We were able to learn the location of all the remaining Horcruxes and how to get past the traps that were set. Pairs of Order members went out and destroyed them, and because of what we knew, only Remus Lupin was killed."

She stopped speaking for a moment and looked down, making an odd sort of face; Snape understood she was trying to move past her grief to continue talking. In a rare moment of sympathy, he reached a hand out and placed it on her shoulder, gripping softly. She looked up, a confused look in her eyes, but then smiled.

"He was killed when he made a foolish mistake," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. Snape removed his hand. "And then we were all set to confront Voldemort for the final time and have a chance at success. We caught up to him at Godric's Hollow. Our informant told us that Voldemort was planning a trip to personally check on the welfare of all his Horcruxes. He was taking only one person with him. It seemed perfect. The Order members hid out there, our location protected by the Fidelius Charm, and waited for Voldemort to check on the Horcrux that had been there. When he came, with only Wormtail in tow, we were ready."

"And then?"

"You know, of course. You were there for the battle."

"I want to hear your interpretation."

She took a deep breath, and looked at him. Snape nodded in response, and tried to put what he hoped was a reassuring look on his face. She began, "You know, of course, that it wasn't I who killed Voldemort, despite what some rumors have to say. No, that was Harry, and he died for his all-important role." Hermione quieted, and looked down at her hands, willing herself not to cry. "And then… that was what happened. We attacked; Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters. The battle commenced, and eventually Harry was able to kill Voldemort. Then… Lucius Malfoy threw one last, wild Killing Curse over his shoulder before he was killed by a still-unknown man… And Malfoy's Curse hit Harry. I could do nothing but stand by and watch."

Both Severus and Hermione were silent for several minutes, each thinking their own thoughts.

"I want to talk about something else now," Hermione said in a normal voice. She had recovered from telling her story. Snape was still reflecting on what he'd heard, but he replied, "What would that be?"

She bit her lip for a moment, still wondering if she should dare bring it up here, now. Then she threw caution to the wind—after all, she had decided she wanted to live again—and leaned in toward him, dropping her voice as she spoke. "The death eater letters."

"I see," he replied distractedly. She had found a reason—not only that but she'd found the reason! What he worked so hard to hide…

"Wondering how I knew it was you?" Hermione asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes," he said, quite honestly. "I thought I covered up well."

"You hid it from Death Eaters and Voldemort well, sure, but you had to or your life would have been over. It was relatively easy for me to figure out, though."

"How did you do it? And how can you be sure others didn't find out?"

"Because, Snape, I didn't know it was you for sure until you just confirmed it," she said quietly. "But I guessed because… part of me wanted to believe you weren't such a bad guy. I thought that you might be the only person with inside information who would send it to the Order… I hoped you were the only person. I hoped so much that I managed to convince the Wizengamot my suspicions about you were facts."

"But in the first letter—the first letter!—I wrote, convincingly I thought, about how the person sending the letters had to be from outside the Dark Lord's circle," Snape protested.

"It was convincing at first," Hermione said slowly, "but there were some holes. I ended up reasoning through and figuring out that it had to be someone in Voldemort's circle—exactly because you worked so hard to prove it wasn't."

"My downfall—trying too hard."

"Tell me, just once, that I'm right. Tell me that you wrote them. I know it, but I want to hear you say it," she said, trying not to beg.

"You're right," he said. "I wrote them."

The so called "death eater letters" were an account by an anonymous writer of all the plans of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was true--Snape had sent them to the Order, to Hermione specifically, knowing that she was the brains behind the operation with Dumbledore gone. For some reason, none of the senior Order members had been able to get their acts together fast enough--Hermione had been ready and willing; she had essentially taken over.

Snape sent one or two letters a week for the duration of the war. He used a different owl each time. Some letters were lists of places that would be attacked soon. Some were lists of names on Voldemort's "hit list". Some were simply friendly letters giving advice or commendations. Hermione very much liked the person writing the mysterious letters; she found his style of writing captivating and his willingness to sacrifice himself very compelling. She was sure it was a "he" by magical handwriting analysis, but she knew nothing else about his identity. She resolved to find out; she wanted to thank him.

The person had hidden his identity very thoroughly, however, and apparently didn't want to make himself known. After the war was over, it details about the Order's role in the war had come out, and it was announced that an anonymous source had been providing the Order, and whoever else Hermione decided to share the contents of each letter with, with inside information on Voldemort. The Prophet put out a request on its front page for the writer of the letters to come forward and be commended… No one did so.

It looked as if the writer had worked more than hard to make sure no one would ever find out his name--the name of the man helping the Order so effectively from behind enemy lines. This made Hermione suspicious; why would someone go to such great lengths to hide themselves... if he weren't a Death Eater, threatened with torture and death if he divulged any secrets? And who would be capable of escaping and evading Voldemort's inquiries about the writer of the death eater letters?

Severus Snape.

From almost the first or second letter, Hermione had seized upon this idea and embraced it with hope. Perhaps Professor Snape wasn't quite the bad guy everyone believed him to be.

Hermione's job now was to prove to the Wizengamot and the wizarding public that Severus Snape had written the letters and was, in fact, the hero they'd been searching for.

A/N: Any comments you have about how realistic this chapter was would be great, especially about the potion, the final battle, death eater lettesr, etc. Was it at least semi-realistic, or was it completely off the mark? Anything you have to say will be appreciated :) --Maggie