Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based on characters and settings from the Harry Potter series, created by J.K. Rowling and owned by Warner Bros. Any changes or additions to the original story are purely for creative purposes and are not meant to reflect the original work. This story is not for profit and is written for the enjoyment of fans.

~O~

Lost and Found

Chapter 2: Familiarity

Severus woke up to the familiar tinkering sounds emanating from the kitchen. The dull morning sunlight was already seeping through the dark window curtains. He placed his forearm over his eyes and groaned, lazily stretching his dormant body.

Since his release from St. Mungo's a little more than eight months ago, Minerva had extended Hogwarts' resources to prepare his meals and keep his house clean, understanding he was not yet in shape to manage these tasks himself. Initially, Minerva had offered him a suite at Hogwarts to recuperate and pursue any activities he liked, but he refused it outright. The thought of returning to that place, laden with too many bad memories, was unbearable.

Elvish service didn't seem like a bad idea at all when Minerva first proposed it. Although he initially considered refusing, the numerous benefits became evident—no need to ponder over the next meal, spotless floors and tabletops, crisp sheets and cloths, and dust-free shelves and cabinets. Reluctantly, he accepted Minerva's offer. He was specific in his instructions: the elves were to stay out of his books and study room, and meals were to be prepared only once a day, specifically at ten a.m., allowing the elves to prepare both brunch and dinner. Minerva was quite pleased with his acceptance (why people were so delighted whenever he accepted their help remained a mystery to him).

Severus had promised himself that he would dismiss the elves as soon as he could manage the house on his own. But he hadn't mustered the courage to tell Minerva. It was too comfortable, after all. Turning to his bedside table, he stared at the old flip clock: 10:32. The elves would be done in about eight minutes. They were always punctual, arriving at 10:00 and departing at 10:40. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, although the bed was warm and soft. Blinking away his sleepiness, he focused on the object near the clock.

It was Miss Granger's idea of help, the mobile phone. He had toyed with it as soon as he Apparated into his living room that afternoon from St. Mungo's, almost two weeks ago. It was nice to have his mind occupied with something so mundane instead of his usual brooding over regrets and might-have-beens—a little patch of grass surrounded by a densely hot desert, so to speak. But beyond typing words, it didn't serve much purpose for him. What was the point of it if he had nobody to show what he wanted to say? And he certainly didn't want to go seeking people just to have a reason to use it. His interest in the Muggle device had lasted only a couple of days. Since then, it had been resting on his bedside table.

Severus went back under the blanket, hoping for a few minutes of shut-eye while waiting for the elves downstairs to finish their job. Suddenly, a buzzing and vibrating sound filled the room. Severus's body flung off the blanket, and he jumped out of bed, his back pain forgotten. He picked up his wand from beneath his pillow and pointed it at the source of the anomaly.

His eyes scanned the room for anything suspicious but found nothing. His gaze returned to the mobile. Its light was on, the first time it had lit up on its own. Deciding it wasn't a menace, he limped around the bottom of the bed and reached for it. The screen displayed, 'New message received.' Suspicious. He wasn't expecting any messages. He remembered Granger explaining that this device could receive and send calls and messages with just a few clicks. Severus was not unfamiliar with the concept of a phone and its functions, but he had never personally used a portable one in his life.

He cautiously picked it up and pressed the largest button on the pad. 'Happy birthday, Mr. Snape! -H.G.' His eyes widened in shock. What in the hell... H.G. could only mean Hermione Granger. And it wasn't even his birthday today. He looked at the clock: JAN 19. Oh, yes it is. But how did she know?

He wanted to tell her to bugger off, but he didn't even know how to reply. She didn't teach him how to do it, after all. Annoying chit.

~O~

The snow was heavy on that Tuesday morning, but it wasn't an excuse to skip work. The Ministry, in all its history, had never called off a day due to bad weather. Despite feeling sluggish, Hermione kicked off the heavy blanket and prepared herself in the bathroom. As soon as she stepped out of the hot shower, she shivered at the coldness of her room. The warming spell had worn off, but she didn't bother casting a new one.

Once she finished dressing and taming her usual mane enough to look presentable, she went down to the kitchen where her mother was cooking breakfast—eggs and toast.

"Smells good, Mum," she smiled at Helen Granger and sat at the dining table. "Good morning."

Her mother offered a small smile back, sliding two eggs onto the ready plate in front of her daughter. "Good morning, dear. Be careful out there. I heard on the radio that today has the worst snowfall in ten years. You'd better wear one of your thicker coats."

"Thanks for the heads up, Mum. Is Dad already up?"

Helen sighed and shook her head. "He's awake but still in bed. He's been more... withdrawn lately." Her voice wavered slightly. "I'll try to coax him out of the room again later."

Hermione's stomach churned, and she suddenly lost her appetite. Richard Granger's moments of recollection were becoming rarer by the weeks. He was too young to have Alzheimer's at thirty-six, but the symptoms were similar to the mild stage of that disease. Ever since she removed the False Memory charm after the war, her father had never been the same. She had followed all the protocols, and her mother had been a testament to it. She didn't know where she went wrong, as she had cast the spells on both her parents at the same time.

She stared at the food on her plate, and her mother sensed her daughter's sudden shift in mood. Hermione had apologized more times than she could remember. She blamed herself, and no matter how everyone reminded her that it was the right thing to do at that time, she couldn't erase the massive guilt within her. She had forgotten how to be happy or what laughter felt like. The smiles she always put on when talking with friends or coworkers were nothing more than pretension. To the untrained eyes, Hermione might have looked strong and happy. But truth was, she was far more broken than anyone else could imagine.

Helen moved behind Hermione and gently rubbed her back. "Don't worry, dear. I have faith that you and the Healers will find a way."

"What if we don't?" Hermione's voice was tinged with despair.

Helen's hand paused in its comforting motion. After a brief moment, she pressed her warm cheek against Hermione's and enveloped her in a tender embrace. "We know you're doing everything you can, and that's what matters most."

Following the emotional breakfast, Hermione Apparated to a location near the underground toilets before using the Floo Network to reach the main entrance hall of the Ministry. Her journey to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on the fourth floor proceeded smoothly, as usual. However, she observed a noticeable absence of familiar faces both in the lift and along the corridors. Even in her office, several colleagues were conspicuously missing.

Sitting down at her desk, Hermione surveyed the considerable pile of paperwork before her. Although the process of gathering signatures for the petition had been arduous, she was pleasantly surprised to find that many witches and wizards were more supportive of the cause than public perception might suggest. The thought was enough to motivate here throughout the day and get her mind off her father for some time.

She was deep in her book, In the Shadows of Magic: Elves and the Quest for Liberation by Ophelia Hartwood, when there was a knock on her cubicle wall. Hermione glanced up to see Harry Potter standing before her, his expression slightly awkward.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't the most esteemed hero of our time, the one and only Harry Potter. What brings you to my domain?" she inquired with a hint of playful sarcasm.

Harry's face flushed, and he quickly scanned the room to ensure no one overheard Hermione's exaggerated introduction. "Can you not do that? It's rather embarrassing," he muttered, before adding, "Good morning."

Hermione responded with a teasing grin, "Good morning, Harry. What can I do for you today?"

Harry hesitated, glancing around once more. The nearest person seated several booths away. She wondered if he had come with a message from Ron, whom she had recently ended things with. The breakup had come after discovering Ron's infidelity with a colleague right before Christmas—a far more painful blow than the earlier heartbreak when he had been involved with Lavender Brown during their sixth year. Despite her desire for stability, it seemed that fate had decreed they were not meant to be together. Hermione groaned inwardly.

Her best friend, noticing her piercing gaze, interjected quickly, "It's not about Ron, Hermione. I assure you. I've already told him that I'm no longer acting as your messenger. It's not good for my health, anyway."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Alright, then. What's on your mind?"

Harry pulled out a chair from behind her desk and positioned it close beside her, sitting so near that she could almost feel his breath. Hermione rolled her eyes at his proximity. "You know, you could always use a spell. Muffliato," she casted, "for instance."

"Right. Anyway," Harry continued, "Remember you mentioned seeing Snape twice at St. Mungo's?"

Hermione nodded. "I thought he visited there every other Thursday, but I didn't see him last week. Why do you ask?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Today is actually his birthday, and I wanted to give him something I found in one of the storage rooms at Grimmauld Place."

Hermione's expression softened. "Oh, Harry… Is it related to your mum?"

Harry's eyes widened as he shook his head vigorously. "No, not at all. I've vowed not to involve her again. I value my life too much now." Hermione chuckled at that; even without his voice, Snape was capable of sending a sharp response. Harry produced a small box wrapped in brown paper and handed it to her. "I promise it's not about my mum. I think he'll appreciate it."

Hermione glanced at the box, then back at Harry's earnest expression. "I'm not sure if he'll be at St. Mungo's on Thursday. Why not send it by owl?"

"I've tried writing to him before, but I never received a reply. I believe it's better to give it to him in person. I doubt he'd accept anything from me otherwise."

Hermione considered Harry's shy grin and felt a surge of pride. Despite everything, he had grown into a remarkably mature individual after the war. His efforts to secure Snape's freedom, while he was in a coma, were a witness to his character. "Alright then. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll let you know on Thursday," Hermione said.

"Thank you, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. Hermione savored the warmth of her friend's embrace and returned it. "I should be going now. I still have a 10:35 meeting with Kingsley. See you later."

With that, Harry left her office, leaving Hermione alone with the box. She stared at it thoughtfully for a moment. It was her former professor's birthday, a date she hadn't anticipated. She wondered if Severus Snape had received any birthday wishes since the war. His first birthday after the conflict had been spent in St. Mungo's, and this was his first birthday as a free man. Hermione assumed he had likely received some greetings from his colleagues and perhaps even from admirers and former associates while he was hospitalized. However, now that he was back in his own home, and with no one aware of his address besides Professor McGonagall and a few other former colleagues, it was possible he might not receive any recognition or well-wishes. Hermione's heart sank at the thought.

While she might not have his address, she did have his phone number. She had neglected to inform him that the mobile came with a SIM card, which would enable him to use it fully if he chose to. Although she considered telling him, she hesitated, fearing he might refuse her offer. Ever since their first encounter at the hospital, she had been preoccupied with finding a way to repay him for his sacrifices. After their second meeting, she was confident that he had appreciated her gifts.

As she retrieved the small phone from her beaded bag, she pondered the most appropriate message to send—something thoughtful yet unobtrusive, avoiding any semblance of awkwardness or undue flattery. Deciding a simple greeting was enough, she wrote, "Happy birthday, Mr. Snape. -H.G." She considered asking if he planned to visit St. Mungo's the day after tomorrow. Unsure if it might come off as too forward, she decided to send the small message.

As soon as she hit Send, she realized that she had neglected to show him how to reply to messages, nor had she provided him with the instruction manual that should have accompanied the phone. Stupid girl.

Some time later, while Hermione was enjoying a cup of coffee, the device suddenly beeped and vibrated, catching her off guard. The unexpected interruption caused her to spill the dark liquid onto hundreds of signatures.

~O~

It didn't take Severus long to figure out how to use the phone's messaging feature. However, he deliberated for quite a while before deciding to reply to her. Ultimately, he settled on a simple "Thank you."

As soon as he put down the mobile, it beeped again, "I didn't expect you would reply! Happy birthday again, sir! I hope you enjoy your day!" He could almost hear the thrill in her voice.

Deciding against sending a further reply, Severus set the phone back on the arm of his chair. He pondered why such a device hadn't been utilized during the War. It could have significantly benefited the Order of the Phoenix, potentially prevented intercepted owl messages or meetings that could have been a short message. However, he also recognized the risks; if a Death Eater had gained access to one, it could have posed a severe threat.

Severus returned to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of tea. Life had been monotonous since his discharge from the hospital. His days had settled into a predictable routine: waking up, eating brunch, reading books, enjoying biscuits and tea, having dinner, reading more, and then sleep. He was thankful for his fast metabolism, which allowed him to maintain his thin figure. It didn't escape his notice during his morning rituals that, compared to how he looked four years ago, he appeared much better and healthier. Not constantly looking over his shoulder and fearing for his life had done him much good.

During the first months of his freedom, Severus had enjoyed the secluded lifestyle. There was a certain relief in knowing that his two masters were gone. The nightmares had become less frequent as the months passed, whether because he could live with the guilt or because he felt he had atoned for his sins. Severus would rather die than admit it, but it also helped that Harry Potter, the son of the woman he loved and betrayed, was constantly reaching out to him. Letters of thanks and apologies, updates about rogue Death Eaters' captures, and general news about the latest happenings in the Wizarding World and the Ministry—all were read before being chucked into the flames of the hearth. He never bothered to reply.

Occasionally, Severus would wander around Muggle London to stave off boredom and follow the Healers' advice to do some walking exercises. During these rare outings, he would visit Muggle bookshops or museums. However, he never ventured far, as his back pain would inevitably return, cutting his excursions short.

Sometimes, he contemplated making his own potions to replace the hospital-prescribed ones. He knew his versions would be much more potent and could extend the pain relief for several hours. St. Mungo's potion concentrations were strictly regulated to be mild and accommodate all ages and body types, but Severus had the expertise to tailor them precisely to his needs. Furthermore, although he had come to terms with the loss of his voice, deep down, he still wished he had it. He decided he might need to return to potion-making soon, but something inside him always wavered at the thought. Besides, he didn't have the necessary equipment and ingredients at his house in Spinner's End. Transforming the basement into a makeshift potions laboratory would be essential. Of course, he could make these requests to Minerva, knowing she would accommodate without batting an eyelid. The items he needed would be costly, but he was prepared to draw from his Gringotts vault. After all, he had substantial savings from his fourteen years of teaching at Hogwarts. Not to mention the hefty sum he received from his First Order of Merlin Award, which he hadn't bothered attending the ceremony for.

Once Severus had settled into his cozy armchair in front of the lit fireplace, he opened the old book, Silent Spells: Harnessing Magic Without a Wand, to the page where he had left off. He had mastered Nonverbal magic long before he lost his voice, and now he sought to advance his skills in Wandless magic, which he believed could prove invaluable in the future. Witches and wizards were highly dependent on their wands to perform magic, and Severus could count on one hand the number of people still alive who could practice wandless magic, including Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle. Not all witches and wizards can perform wandless magic, and those who can often exhibit powerful magical abilities. Given that he had all the prerequisites for Wandless magic, such as Legilimency, Occlumency, and Non-verbal magic, Severus estimated he could master Wandless magic in the course of six months, give or take.

There were numerous advantages to Wandless magic, including improved mobility, the element of surprise, enhanced versatility, and increased stealth. Each of these benefits could be effectively applied to real-life situations, and Severus regretted not having considered learning it sooner. However, wandless magic also had its limitations. It could be more taxing on the caster's magical reserves, leading to quicker exhaustion, and it generally offered less precision and control compared to using a wand. Mastery of wandless magic would require extensive practice, and Severus was prepared to invest the necessary effort.

It would have been an enjoyable read during his teatime, but the words from the Muggle device kept echoing in his mind: 'I hope you enjoy your day.' Such sentiments were rare for him; only Albus and Minerva had ever spoken to him in such a manner. Albus had always given him a pair of vibrant socks each year for his birthday since he joined the faculty, but he had never worn them. Their colors were too bright for his taste; Severus had a preference for a more subdued palette. Earlier that morning, Minerva and several members of the faculty had sent their greetings by owl, accompanied by a few small parcels that he had yet to open.

Thinking long and hard, he had never celebrated his birthday as anything particularly special. It would either be doing his lesson plans, grading homeworks, or stalk the corridors for misbehaving students. For once, he would like to do something… special. He grimaced at the word.

"And what does enjoying a birthday entail, Miss Granger?" Sent.

Her response came after he'd finished two cups of tea.

Buzz. "Well, Mr. Snape, celebrating a birthday can vary depending on personal preferences. For some, it might involve spending time with loved ones, enjoying a special meal, or engaging in a favorite activity. It's about marking the occasion in a way that feels meaningful to you. It could be something as simple as taking a day off to relax or trying something new that you've always wanted to experience. It's really about celebrating yourself and the passage of time in a way that brings you some joy or satisfaction."

Severus suddenly remembered the late nights grading her essays. It was exhausting.

"I'm sure a 'special' day filled with frivolous activities and excessive merriment is exactly what I've been missing. Perhaps I should don a party hat and indulge in a lavish feast, all the while serenaded by a choir of enthusiastic well-wishers. How utterly revolutionary." Sent.

Buzz. "Well, if you're aiming for sarcasm, you've certainly succeeded. But in all seriousness, celebrating your birthday doesn't have to involve party hats or serenades. It could simply be about taking a break from your usual routine and doing something you actually enjoy—whatever that might be for you."

Indeed, Severus thought, there wasn't anything he particularly relished, with the exception of reading and brewing. Both were the activities he found most solace in, and the majority of his days were consumed by the former. Yet, perhaps it was time to discover a new passion or interest, something that could offer a different kind of fulfillment. The search for that elusive 'something' might be just what he needed to bring a sense of meaning and celebration to his life. He owed it to himself, at least.

"It is trivial and annoying." Sent.

Buzz. "Ah, yes, because celebrating life's small joys is clearly overrated. But you know, even the most cynical of us might find a bit of delight in something unexpected."

"Indeed." Sent.

Buzz. "I rest my case."

Severus scoffed. Bothersome chit.

Buzz. "Ever been to the Louvre Museum?"

Ridiculous question. "No."

"What about that as a birthday gift to yourself?"

"Never crossed my mind. Doing intercountry travels in a whim is not my thing."

"As I said, something unexpected."

"That's absurd."

"Adventurous."

"Foolish."

"Are you in?"

"What?!"

"Right. Three p.m. Portkey Office. The museum closes at nine p.m."

~O~

A/N: That's it for the second chapter. I'll update the next chapter soon. Please leave a review and let me know what you liked and didn't like. =)