Chapter II: Subjects Best Untouched

Severus absentmindedly picked at his dinner with his fork. Meatballs and stewed macaroni, heated in the microwave. It was a sorry excuse for a dinner, he knew that. He also knew that he could do better. A single swish with his wand would be enough to transform this tasteless dinner into a meal fit for kings. But his wand was locked away in the safe in his bedroom. He hadn't done magic for years. Not since he had left Britain and with it, the magical world. He didn't belong there anymore.

Had he ever? Had there ever really been a place in the magical world for him? Had he ever really belonged anywhere? If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he had not. He had always been too light for the Dark Side and too tainted for the Light. No, he had never belonged anywhere, and that was why he had left it all behind, hoping that it would never catch up with him.

But for one moment that afternoon, he had feared that it actually had. He had tried to avoid Cassandra's questions about who he was and where he came from. And when she had mentioned having been at school with a boy called Severus, he had almost choked at his coffee. What had she said? Not the nicest of blokes, but he turned out to be a good person in the end?

Yes, that had sounded like an accurate description of the man he had once been, and for a terrifying moment, he had thought that his cover had been blown, that she had been talking about him, that she had been talking about Severus Snape. But it couldn't be. It was simply impossible. Cassandra was a Muggle, she knew nothing of his world.

And even if she were a witch, it would not matter. Severus Snape had disappeared from the Wizarding world five years ago. Yes, disappeared, vanished. There were those who claimed that he had gone into hiding after the fall of Lord Voldemort. Some said that he was hiding from the Dark Side, others said that he was hiding from the Light. But most people were convinced that Severus Snape was dead, that he had died at the hand of the Dark Lord. After all, that was what the famous Harry Potter had told everyone. The fact that there had never been a funeral didn't seem to bother people too much.

Very few people knew the truth. Minerva McGonagall was one of them. She had been the only one who had even thought of going to look for Severus' body after the final battle. And she had found him on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack, a bare inch from death. She had saved him. How she had done it was still beyond Severus. He remembered that he had been lying in an infirmary bed for three whole months, drifting in and out of consciousness. He remembered Minerva's voice and Poppy's and Dumbledore's. And he thought that he had heard a phoenix sing, now and then. But that might just have been a dream. The phoenix had left Hogwarts the day of Dumbledore's funeral.

After his recuperation, Severus had not known where to go. There had basically been two options. One had been to let the Wizarding world know that he was still alive, and that would have meant that he would have been celebrated as a hero. But as he had never felt like a hero, he had ruled out that option fairly quickly. The other option had been to disappear, and that had been the path he had chosen.

It had been Minerva's idea to hide in the Muggle world. And she had also been the one who had recommended Iceland. 'For its beautiful nature,' she had said. 'And because Iceland has not been involved in the battle against Voldemort.' And Severus had followed her advice.

Creating a new identity had been easy enough. It hadn't taken much more than a forged birth certificate and a few well-placed Memory Charms at the residents' registration office to create Severus Smythe. The surname Smythe had been Minerva's idea, too. 'It has to be a common name,' she had said. 'You have to blend in.' She had also tried to give him a new first name, but however hard she had tried, none of them had seemed to fit. And so they had simply decided on keeping Severus.

Then there had been the matter of employment. Severus had almost fallen off his chair, laughing, when Minerva had suggested that he could teach chemistry. Teach? No, never again. Never! After having taught teenagers for almost two decades, Severus preferred a somewhat quieter profession. That was when Poppy had suggested anaesthesiologist. It would, after all, have been a shame if Severus' vast knowledge of drugs and poisons had gone to waste.

Minerva had taken care of everything: papers, certificates, references. She had worked tirelessly to give Severus a new life. And when he had asked her why, she had wiped a tear from her eye and said: 'Because I need to make amends, Severus. I doubted you in a time when you would have needed my support. I hope you can forgive a foolish old woman.'

They were still in contact, Minerva and he, using Muggle mail instead of owls. Most of the time, they simply exchanged news about the weather, but now and then Minerva would ask him if he ever thought about returning. These were the letters that Severus never replied to. He simply did not know the answer himself.

He put his plate on the counter and made his way to the bedroom where he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was shorter now, not that greasy anymore, lined with a few grey streaks. He had grown a beard, and it, too, was grey, but just around the chin. He still wore black, jeans and shirts nowadays, not billowing robes, but still black. No, not much of what he saw in the mirror reminded him of Severus Snape. Maybe he really had disappeared.

Severus wrapped his coat tighter around himself. He had been surprised by a sudden downpour, and as it had been raining more horizontally than vertically – as it so often did in Iceland – his umbrella had been of little use, and the right side of his body was now totally drenched.

He bought himself a cup of coffee and made his way to the park. The summer holidays were almost over, and there weren't many people spending their afternoons outdoors now. But Severus still hoped that he would catch a glimpse of Cassandra somewhere.

He had come to the park several times every week, hoping he would run into her. He had not seen her once since their encounter in the hospital cafeteria. It would have been easy for him to find out in which hospital room she was lying, but by the time he had gathered the courage, she had already been discharged.

'I sincerely hope that this is not hospital coffee.'

Her voice ripped him out of his thoughts, and he just stared at her, hardly able to believe his luck.

'Because that stuff tasted awful.'

She put her backpack down and then flopped down on the bench beside him.

'Cat got your tongue?' she asked and grinned.

Severus cleared his throat. 'No, not really. It is nice to see you again, Cassandra.'

'You can call me Cassy. Everybody else does.'

Severus frowned. In his opinion, the name Cassy did not fit her at all. Cassandra meant as much as 'shining upon man', and the woman who was now sitting beside him on the bench had certainly lightened up his day. He would call her Cassandra, if she liked it or not.

'Oh, yes, I am fine, thank you.' Her voice was once more dripping with irony, and Severus could not help but smirk. 'Is the physical therapy paying off?' he asked.

'Yes, it is actually. But the nurse is a sadist, I tell you. I am convinced that she worked for the Spanish Inquisition in an earlier life. Say, Severus, are you off from work today?'

He nodded. 'Yes, I finished my shift an hour ago.'

'Good. Come on then,' she said, already standing and tugging at his sleeve. 'I'll show you the only place in Reykjavik where they know how to brew a decent cup of coffee.'

Half an hour later, Severus was warming his fingers on a cup of coffee in a tiny café which he – despite the fact that he had been living in Reykjavik for almost five years – had never noticed before. Cassandra had been right. That was the best coffee in town.

'Don't you miss it sometimes?'

'Miss what?' he asked. Once more, his thoughts had drifted off, and he had not heard what she had said.

'Tea, good old English tea. It seems as if people around here are incapable of brewing tea. Sure, they have about a zillion different varieties. Green, red, white, you name it. But a nice cup of Earl Grey, that seems to be impossible to get.'

Severus nodded, suddenly wondering if he dared ask her a personal question. After all, he had so far been very reluctant to answer any of hers. 'Tell me, Cassandra, what is a Northumbrian woman like you doing in Reykjavik?'

'Thought you'd never ask,' she said and smiled. 'I came here to study runes, met a Swedish Viking at the university, fell in love and got married.'

'You are married?' He regretted the question at once and felt terribly stupid all of a sudden. Had he really believed she was in any way interested in him as a man? Of course she was attached.

'I was married,' Cassandra replied. The smile had faltered, and there seemed to be a shadow on her face. 'Do you remember the Brockdale Bridge collapsing in ninety-five?'

Severus nodded. Of course he remembered. It had been one of the Dark Lord's first big attacks during the Second Wizarding War, an attempt to blackmail Fudge and the Ministry. The bridge had been split in two, and a large number of Muggles had been killed.

'Thorbjörn and I were on our way to London to meet my cousin. I got away with this.' She pulled up her left sleeve and revealed an ugly scar on her upper arm. 'Thorbjörn died on his way to the hospital.'

Severus could see how Cassandra's fingers tightened around her coffee mug. He was terribly sorry that he had asked. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips, trying to comfort her. 'I am sorry, Cassandra.'

Then the shadow was gone, and the smile was back on her lips. But it seemed to have lost some of its heartiness. 'Don't be,' she said. 'You couldn't know. And that was ten years ago. Trust me, the world kept spinning.'

Again Severus nodded. Yes, he knew that the world didn't stop spinning after the death of a loved one. But it sure felt like that sometimes. 'Why did you not move back to England?' he wondered.

She cocked an eyebrow and gave a short, dry laugh. 'Let's say that I had married way below family standards. They did not really welcome me back with open arms.'

Severus swore inwardly. Two touchy subjects and he had managed to ask questions about both of them over one cup of coffee. Stupid, extremely stupid.

Thankfully, it seemed to bother Cassandra much less than it bothered him. The piercing look he had noticed before had returned, and she leant back in her chair, eyes fixed upon him.

'Now it's my turn,' she said, the tone of her voice almost insidious. 'What are you doing here, Severus Smythe?'

'I came here to work,' he simply said. 'The hospital here is one of the best in Europe.'

Cassandra nodded. 'Hm, yeah, I guess it is. They managed to patch me up anyway.'

Then there was silence, and Severus held onto his coffee cup for dear life. The look in Cassandra's eyes made it very clear that he was not off the hook yet. But what more was he supposed to say? That he was not welcome at home either? That he was running away from his past?

After what seemed like hours, the look on her face softened, and now it was her turn to brush the back of Severus' hand with her fingers.

'Tell you what, Severus,' she said. 'Let's say you don't ask me about my past anymore, and I lay off asking you about yours. Deal?'

'Deal.' Never before in his life had Severus accepted a deal so willingly.