Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
quando judex est venturus,
cuncta stricte discussurus!
Chapter Thirteen
Severus usually spent his Saturday mornings reclined on the leather chaise lounge he kept in the library. He would pick a book from the shelf, most often a novel or a play or philosophy. Today, he decided to read Shakespeare and selected 'The Winter's Tale.' It was a so-called problem play because it did not fit into a single Shakespearean category. The first act was a deep psychological drama and the latter two acts were a romantic comedy, leading up to a happy ending. He could only hope that his life might play out the same way.
Most of his life had been spent going from master to master like a slave. His first master had been his father, who expected slave-like obedience from his wife and child. Failure to comply resulted in bruising punishments for himself and for his mother. While he bore more than his fair share of curse scars, half of the scars on his body were courtesy of his father.
For all that he hated magic, Tobias Snape had been oddly eager to send Severus off to Hogwarts. At the time, Eileen hid her suspicions from her son. When Severus was not home to act as some form of protection for his mother, Tobias had turned the full brunt of his inner rage on her. She had been abused physically and sexually on a daily basis, though she kept it well hidden. Severus did not find out until the summer before his seventh year, a mere week before he was due to return to school. He had worked in a shop in town and had come home early and found his father forcing himself on his mother. Severus had heard the screams as he came up the drive. He had overpowered his father with uncontrolled, wandless magic and Tobias had stayed away until Severus went back to Hogwarts. It was a mere two days into the school year that he had received the letter informing him of his mother's "accidental" drowning in the river behind the house.
Horace Slughorn had accompanied him to the funeral as his Head of House and then whisked him back to Hogwarts immediately after. Severus's anger toward his father had seethed through the school year. On the day of his graduation, Lucius Malfoy had approached him, wishing to take him to meet Lord Voldemort. Severus had not been surprised; Malfoy, Mulciber, and Avery had never been shy about their affiliations and their desire for him to join them.
Severus had renounced his lowly birth to the Dark Lord by killing his father in front of him. It had not been a simple killing curse; that would have been too good for him. He had unleashed several bouts of the Cruciatus curse followed by Sectumsempra. His father had screamed from the pain of both curses, though his screams had slowly died away as he bled to death. At the time, Severus thought that meant he was finally free, but as the Dark Lord placed the Dark Mark on his left forearm, he was bound to his second master.
It had not taken very long for Severus to become disillusioned with Voldemort. His master made arrangements for him to receive his potions mastery in France from one of his supporters there. Then Severus became the brewer of poisons for his dark purposes. As he saw his work go to killing innocent people, he realized that he was following a master even worse than his father. That he had used the information Severus gave him to go after Lily Potter had been the last straw. Despite everything, he had still loved that woman.
Dumbledore was his third master. Severus was bound to him through guilt. He felt guilty for failing to save his mother, for killing his father, for essentially killing Lily, and for leaving Lily's child without a mother. Though Dumbledore would say that Severus had protected Harry Potter because James had saved his life, he didn't feel like he owed James anything for doing enough to keep his best friend from being expelled. He did it for Lily.
His relationship with Dumbledore was extremely complicated. Dumbledore had blatantly favoured his Gryffindors, often at Severus's expense. When Sirius Black had lured him to the Shrieking Shack, presumably to kill him, Black had received a month of detentions and a letter to his shrew of a mother. Severus had been threatened with expulsion if he ever revealed what he saw to another student. When Severus had been dangled upside down in front of the Hogwarts student body, humiliated, and had his underwear removed, Severus had received the same punishment as his tormentors.
Despite that, Severus could not deny that Dumbledore had taken him in and trusted him, despite his affiliations. He was not unaware that the headmaster was the only reason he had not gone to Azkaban. When he returned to spy for Dumbledore, he had been glad that he could be part of the Dark Lord's downfall. His resentment for Dumbledore wasn't solidified until he was forced to kill him. It seemed Dumbledore had been determined to make him a villain.
The best part of his life spent in the stone cottage was that he served no master other than himself. Though Minerva had helped him in his hour of need, she had made it clear that he didn't owe her anything. She was simply his friend.
After a lunch of leftover ham and leeks, he decided to spend the afternoon tending his garden beds. He would take his weekend hike on Sunday afternoon instead. He grew many of the plant-based ingredients in a dozen raised beds behind the cottage where it got the most sunlight. He had one bed that was stocked with herbs he used for both brewing and cooking. In that bed he kept basil, rosemary, mint, thyme, oregano, tarragon, and chives. The mint was attempting to take over the bed, as it was prone to do, so he uprooted a few of the unruly shoots, plucking the leaves off. He laid them out on one of the screens he used for drying. He had grown the rosemary into a topiary shape to allow more space for the lower herbs. He trimmed a few sprigs off the side and laid those on the drying rack as well. Lastly, he pinched off the small white flowers that were growing on the basil to encourage it to leaf out rather than grow flowers.
He moved on to his bed that was entirely filled with aconite and Belladonna. Those two plants would poison just about any other plant placed in the same bed. One of the few exceptions was the dandelion. They loved to take root in the space between the plants. Sadly, he could not use them as a potion ingredient because the other two plants contaminated the dandelions. He couldn't even use them to make salad or jam.
It was when he was pulling the dandelions from the bed that it happened.
"Jack Hier," a warm, feminine voice said behind him.
He whirled, wand pointing at the intruder. Normally so observant, he had been absorbed in his work and had not noticed anyone coming up to the house.
"Or should I say Severus Snape," Hermione Weasley said levelly, despite the wand pointed at her chest.
Severus was speechless for one of the first times in his life. He had not detected a tracing charm on a single one of her letters so he was unsure of how she had found him. Had Minerva betrayed him? No, it wasn't possible. "Who sent you?" he asked, finally.
"I sent myself," she said. "I'm not going to attack you and drag you off so you can lower your wand."
"No I cannot," he snarled. "You are invading my privacy. I should send you off with a hex and an Obliviate for your cheek."
Her response shocked him. Rather than cower, as she surely would have done as a student, she simply shrugged. "You are not the first Potions master to threaten me."
"What are you doing here?" he hissed.
"I'm here to discuss my work," she replied.
"Your work," he repeated. "Why would I wish to discuss your work?"
"Academic curiosity, perhaps?" she asked. "You've been helping for almost a week now."
"By owl! I have been asking you questions about your work, not inviting you into my home," he shouted.
"Something had seemed familiar about your letters but I couldn't put my finger on it until the last one. You used the word dunderhead and suddenly it clicked. The handwriting, the knowledge about potions, the lack of registration in any database," she told him. "I knew it was you."
"Congratulations. You can promptly forget your knowledge and go back from whence you came," he said.
She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I can't do that. I have a number of questions to ask you."
"Which you will refrain from asking," he replied. "Get out!" How dare she invade his privacy? How dare she disturb the life he had built hidden in the woods?
"Fine," she said. "I will return this evening."
"I wouldn't recommend it," he replied.
She shrugged.
"Don't you have children? You wouldn't want to leave them motherless," he said.
"You won't kill me," she replied. Hermione began walking away from him, in the direction of the trails.
His anger seared through his mind. How dare she? How dare she just show up at his cottage as if she had any right? Was she so insatiable in her thirst for knowledge that she would stop at absolutely nothing to get what she wanted? She wanted Jack Hier, so she had gone to find Jack Hier. The gall!
As he mentally ranted and violently tugged at the weeds in his flowerbeds, a thought niggled at his mind that he kept trying to ignore. Unfortunately, that little annoyance soon came to the forefront: he would have done the exact same thing if he were in her place. When he was working on a project, he would read every book he could find on the subject and if that didn't provide the answers, he would find someone who knew more about it. If that person refused to communicate, wouldn't he track them down? More so, if someone presumed to be dead came out of the woodwork, wouldn't he go see if it was true?
He huffed out a sigh. He resented her and the intrusion into his life but he didn't actually hate her. If the main purpose of seeking him out really was to work on her project and not to expose him to the whole world, then would it really hurt for her to know? The spy in him said yes, but after ten years without needing to look over his shoulder, he was not as concerned at he once would have been. Minerva had showed him that some Gryffindors could keep secrets.
She claimed that she would be back that evening. While part of him hoped that her much vaunted Gryffindor bravery would fail and she would never return, the other part of him had questions of his own. What did she truly want? How had she found him?
It was five o'clock by the time he finished weeding the last bed. Not sure at what point Hermione would return, he went inside and took a quick shower, changing into a pair of dark blue jeans, a charcoal button down, and black shoes. Tying his hair into a tail at the nape of his neck, he went into the kitchen and began preparing dinner.
He took a chicken out of the cold storage cabinet and began rubbing the skin with butter, salt, and pepper. After squeezing the outside with half a lemon, he shoved the lemon into the cavity and expertly trussed the chicken. With a flick of his wand, the oven was hot and ready for the bird. Once the chicken was cooking, he began peeling parsnips and carrots. He cut them into bite-sized chunks, coated them in olive oil and placed them in a pan. They didn't need to go in for another half an hour. Lastly, he prepared a salad of butter lettuce. Dinner cooking, he poured himself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table with his book.
The quiet knock came twenty minutes later. Not one to let his guard down, Severus pulled out his wand as he opened the door. He was startled by her appearance. With her khaki pants and green vest, she was identical to the strange dream he had of her a few nights prior.
"Can I come in?" she asked, somewhat timidly.
"If you must," he said, lowering his wand and stepping out of the way.
"Thank you," she replied. She had a brown shoulder bag, presumably full of notes and books to share with him on her research. Or else, her terms for not revealing his living status to the world.
"I suppose you think you are owed congratulations for discovering that I am alive," he drawled, his smooth tone not revealing the nerves he felt.
"You owe me nothing," she replied. "Besides, I knew you were alive right after the battle. I didn't just figure it out this week."
His brow furrowed. "Why would you assume I was alive? All signs pointed to my death."
"Not if you know what you're looking at," Hermione answered. "I went to the Shrieking Shack a week after the battle. I saw what looked like drag marks on the floor and steps and the shattered potions phial at the base of the steps. I could smell the anti-venom and blood replenishing potion."
"Those factors do not necessarily mean someone saved me," he said. "With such scant clues, why did you assume I was alive?"
"It had the marks of someone who had been preparing for a wealth of possibilities for death. As a spy, I'm quite sure you knew there was a risk that Voldemort would kill you," she reasoned. "I didn't invade your privacy to dredge up the past, though."
"Then why are you here?" he snarled.
"To recruit you for my research team," she said simply. "Or at the very least discuss the project."
He sighed. She really wasn't going to leave this alone, was she? He would hear her out and then send her on her way and move if necessary. "Come into the kitchen, then. There is room to talk there."
Author's Notes: Sorry for the late posting. Yesterday was my 25th birthday so I was otherwise occupied. I will warn you now that chapter 14 will be posted late; probably on Monday the 10th as I am getting married on Saturday (ahhhhhh!).