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 8: Disappearance

Hermione Granger was officially reported missing on January 19, 2001, by the Child Hill Safer Neighborhood Team and the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department. She had last been seen on the morning of January 18. The last people to see her were her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. On the day of her disappearance, a severe snowstorm had swept through the country. Helen Granger had suggested that Hermione take the day off due to the weather, but Hermione had insisted that the Ministry never suspended work because of weather conditions. Helen Granger therefore believed her daughter had gone to work as usual.

The first person to grow suspicious was Severus Snape on the evening of the 18th. His mind couldn't help but wander as the clock ticked away the hours, each passing minute amplifying his unease. It wasn't like Hermione to be late without notice, and the ominous weather outside did little to quell his growing concern. The harsh snow lashed against the windows, the wind howling through the empty streets, as he paced back and forth in his living room, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling that something was amiss.

Hermione was nothing if not conscientious, a trait that had endeared her to Severus in ways he could never fully articulate. It had been her idea to keep their communication to the simple, modern convenience of mobile phones—an odd choice, perhaps, for two people so deeply entrenched in the wizarding world. But it had become their norm. A quick text about dinner plans, a reminder to pick up something from the store, or a brief check-in just to say hello. Their messages had woven an unspoken thread of connection between them, one that Severus had grown to rely on more than he cared to admit.

But tonight, there had been nothing. No text, no call, no sign of her at all. Severus tried to rationalize her absence—perhaps she had caught a cold and decided to stay home, or maybe she had gotten caught up with friends or family and simply forgotten to let him know. Yet, despite these reassurances, a nagging voice in the back of his mind kept insisting that something was wrong.

He reached for his phone, his fingers hesitating over the screen. It wasn't like him to worry so much, to let his emotions get the better of him. But Hermione had a way of breaking down his defenses, of making him feel things he had long since buried. With a deep breath, he typed out a quick message—short, to the point, and masking the worry he refused to fully acknowledge.

"Are you alright?"

As the minutes ticked by with no response, Snape's worry deepened. He clenched his phone tightly, the cool surface grounding him as his thoughts spiraled in every direction. The rational part of his mind kept trying to convince him that there was a perfectly logical explanation for her silence, but a deeper, more vulnerable part of him refused to be soothed.

Had he unknowingly upset her? Severus' mind raced as he replayed their last conversation over and over. The evening before, they had talked about their upcoming plans—a quiet dinner in London to celebrate his birthday. It was rare for Snape to mark the occasion, but Hermione had insisted, her enthusiasm palpable. She had even teased him lightly about it, her eyes sparkling with something more—a secret, perhaps, or an extra surprise she had tucked away for the day.

There had been nothing in her demeanor to suggest any anger or annoyance. On the contrary, she had seemed almost giddy, as if she were looking forward to the evening more than she was letting on.

But now, as he stared at his phone, all that assurance began to crumble. What if he had missed something? A subtle hint or an offhand comment that he hadn't picked up on? Despite his usual attentiveness, Snape couldn't shake the feeling that he might have overlooked something important, something that had caused Hermione to pull away without warning.

He forced himself to calm down, to breathe deeply and think logically. Hermione wasn't the type to hold a grudge without reason, and she certainly wasn't one to play games with his emotions. If there was something wrong, she would have told him—unless, of course, something had happened that prevented her from doing so.

That thought jolted him upright. What if she was in trouble? The wizarding world wasn't without its dangers, even in peacetime, and Hermione had never been one to shy away from a challenge or a fight. His mind flashed through a dozen scenarios, each more harrowing than the last, and his anxiety ratcheted up another notch. A handful of Death Eaters were still uncaptured. What if they had caught her? She, as one of the Golden Trio.

He couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He had to find her. Determination replacing his earlier hesitation, Severus grabbed his coat and wand, ready to face whatever awaited him beyond the stormy night. He wasn't about to lose someone he cared about again—not when he had finally found a reason to hope, to look forward to something more than the solitude he had grown accustomed to.

He glanced at the clock—2:10 a.m. With a final glance at his phone, still devoid of any messages, Severus stepped out into the tempest, the heavy snowfall and howling wind matching the turmoil inside him. He wouldn't rest until he knew she was safe.

~O~

Everything became a blur after that. Despite his initial reluctance, Severus found himself making an uninvited visit to Hermione's home in the early hours of the morning. He was fully aware of the potential for panic, especially if Hermione hadn't returned the previous night. Nonetheless, the urgency of the situation outweighed his hesitation.

Richard Granger, still half-asleep, opened the door, clearly surprised to see Severus standing there. His confusion quickly turned to concern when Severus inquired about Hermione. As he had feared, Hermione had not come home. Richard explained that she had left for work that morning as usual, and they hadn't thought much of it when she didn't return that night. They had assumed she was with Severus, as it wasn't uncommon for her to stay over without prior notice. However, what troubled them was the absence of the customary call or message from Hermione, which was unlike her.

The Grangers, while maintaining a calm exterior, were clearly unnerved by the situation. An undercurrent of fear was palpable, as they worried their daughter might be in some kind of trouble. Unfortunately, they had no information that could help Severus determine her whereabouts. Their lack of knowledge only deepened Severus's growing sense of dread.

Before leaving, Severus tried to reassure them—and himself—that Hermione was likely tied up with work. He suggested that perhaps some unexpected development at the Ministry had kept her away and prevented her from contacting them. He emphasized that there was no need to panic yet, though the unease in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty.

As he left the Granger residence, Severus couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. The thought that something could have happened to Hermione, that she might be in danger, gnawed at him relentlessly. But he couldn't afford to lose his composure. He had to stay focused, to think clearly, and to find her.

The reassurance he had offered to the Grangers was more for their benefit than his own. Deep down, Severus knew that this was more than just a work-related delay.

Severus stormed into Potter's home, his presence as forceful as the icy wind outside. Without preamble, he demanded to know if Potter or the youngest Weasley had seen Hermione that day or if she had mentioned any plans to them. The couple exchanged confused glances, clearly caught off guard by Severus's abrupt intrusion.

Potter, still groggy from sleep, tried to piece together what Severus was asking. He recalled stopping by Hermione's cubicle earlier that day, but she wasn't there. Her boss mentioned that she had called in sick, though Potter hadn't found it particularly alarming at the time. Now, under Severus's intense scrutiny, doubt crept in.

"She didn't mention anything to you at all?" Severus pressed.

"Unfortunately, no," Potter replied. "We've barely crossed paths in recent weeks; I've been tied up with the department, still tracking down those Death Eaters at large. Oh, Merlin. Professor, do you think—?"

"It's not impossible, Potter," Severus responded, his tone icy. "There are still those who might seek revenge—whether the Death Eaters themselves or their families. But let's not jump to conclusions. We need to thoroughly investigate every possible place she might have been. I know she spent most of her time at the Ministry, then returned home afterward."

Potter, despite not being a Legilimens, noticed the tension behind Severus' words. He gave Severus a searching look. "Professor, I have to ask—are you and Hermione…"

Severus nearly forgot that the youngest Weasley was present until she gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

"That's none of your concern, Potter," Severus retorted sharply. "Let's focus on the issue at hand: your friend is missing."

Potter bit his lip, considering their next steps. "You're right. I'll start looking into it first thing this morning." He glanced at the pendulum clock in the hallway. "We'll have to wait until 7 a.m. for the Ministry staff to arrive. It wouldn't do any good to show up now with no one there to question. Do you agree?"

Though Severus felt the urge to storm the Ministry, he knew Potter was right—they needed to be strategic.

"You can rest in the sitting room, Professor," Ginny offered, her concern evident. Severus noted that she was particularly close to Hermione and seemed deeply unsettled by the news. "We all need whatever rest we can get. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day. We can also brainstorm over tea."

Severus nodded, seeing the sense in her suggestion. "Very well. Apologies for imposing."

"Not at all, Professor. We're grateful you alerted us. While we hope Hermione is simply delayed somewhere, if she truly is in trouble, it will be easier to find her together."

~O~

January 19 was fifteen days ago, and in that time, Severus had scarcely thought of anything but Hermione's whereabouts. For the first five days, he and Potter scoured the Ministry, searching for any trace of her. The places she frequented—the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Ministry Library, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—were all meticulously examined. They interviewed everyone she had interacted with in the days leading up to her disappearance, but no one had noticed anything unusual. Even the Portkey Office was checked, but there was no record of any recent travel—her last booking was nearly a year ago when she had surprised Severus with a trip to France for his birthday.

The Grangers were devastated, a word that barely captured the extent of their suffering. Each evening, Severus visited their home to report on the progress of the search, though there was little good news to share. Helen Granger's grief was palpable; she wept constantly, her appearance deteriorating as if she had aged decades in a matter of days. Richard Granger, while trying to remain composed for the sake of his wife, was clearly struggling as well, his own strength beginning to wane under the relentless strain.

For Severus, the situation was agonizing. Every failed attempt to find Hermione felt like a personal failure, a weight he bore more heavily with each passing day. Yet, despite the despair surrounding him, that small, insistent voice within him refused to give up hope. Hermione was out there, somewhere, and he would not rest until she was found.

Severus himself wasn't exempt from the Aurors' inquiries—a standard procedure when someone was reported missing. They questioned him extensively, particularly about why Hermione frequently visited his home. With no other option, Severus reluctantly disclosed the nature of their relationship. His confession took the Aurors by surprise, and their reaction made it clear they hadn't expected such an admission. Suspicion naturally fell on him, given the circumstances, but before it could escalate, Helen and Richard Granger stepped in.

The Grangers, despite their own anguish, were quick to defend Severus. They vouched for his character, asserting with unwavering conviction that he had nothing to do with Hermione's disappearance. Their testimony was so emphatic that the Aurors, though initially doubtful, were compelled to back off, especially after a rather heated exchange with the Grangers. Helen's grief and Richard's firm defense made it clear that Severus was not to be treated as a suspect, and the Aurors, recognizing the strength of the Grangers' conviction, reluctantly agreed to focus their investigation elsewhere.

With no leads to follow, the grim possibility of kidnapping or worse, began to loom over them. Severus pored over the list of Death Eaters who remained uncaptured, but he was unimpressed by the names. Hermione could have handled any of them on her own—unless, of course, she had been ambushed. Severus quickly dismissed the thought, refusing to believe it. Deep down, a persistent, gnawing feeling told him she was still alive, that she simply needed to be found.

Severus had barely eaten or slept since Hermione's disappearance. His stubble had grown into a rough beard, and dark circles etched themselves under his eyes. He had even lost a few stones, but none of it mattered to him. His thoughts were consumed by Hermione, and her well-being far outweighed any concern for his own health.

The engaged couple, Potter and Weasley, had quietly taken it upon themselves to look after him. They would bring him takeaways, the same ones Hermione would sometimes bring when she visited. They gently coaxed him to eat, but the sight of the food only deepened his despair, reminding him of her absence. During one of their visits, Potter informed Severus that the Auror's Department had doubled its efforts and resources in the hunt for the remaining Death Eaters. The hope was that capturing and interrogating them might yield some clue about Hermione's whereabouts.

There were moments when he wanted to shout at them, to lash out in frustration and grief, but he restrained himself. Severus knew that their concern was genuine, that they cared for him despite everything. As much as Severus hated to admit it, he knew he needed their help. The weight of Hermione's disappearance was too great for him to bear alone, and despite his pride, the added resources and expertise of the Aurors were crucial. Their efforts provided a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak situation.

The thought of their kindness, however, only intensified the hollow ache in his chest. He appreciated their efforts, even if he couldn't show it. But no amount of food or comfort could fill the void that Hermione's absence had left in his life.

Often, Severus would check his phone, clinging to the faint hope that Hermione had somehow sent him a message he had overlooked. But each time, the screen remained empty, and the silence was deafening. Desperation drove him to borrow the Pensieve from the Headmistress's office, determined to comb through his memories for any detail he might have missed in their conversations. He painstakingly reviewed every exchange, searching for the slightest clue that could lead him to her. But even in the depths of his memories, he found nothing. No hidden message, no overlooked sign—nothing that could explain her sudden disappearance or guide him to her. The lack of any clue only deepened his sense of helplessness, leaving him grasping at straws in the darkness.

The unrelenting hunger and severe sleep deprivation finally took their toll on Severus, and one day, he collapsed, his body giving in to the exhaustion he had so long ignored. As he drifted into unconsciousness, it felt as though he was slipping into death itself. In that moment, the thought of dying seemed almost preferable to the torment of living without Hermione. The void she had left behind was unbearable, and the darkness of unconsciousness offered a cruel but welcome reprieve from the pain of her absence.

It was cold and dark. Severus' heart pounded painfully in his chest. His consciousness flickered, wavering between the present and an unsettling void, as if his soul were teetering on the edge of life and death. Then, out of the darkness, a voice reached him—distant, echoing, and familiar.

"Severus... help me... find me..." The words reverberated, loud at first, then fading into a soft whisper. It sounded like Hermione, but something was off. Something else was there, distorting the voice he longed to hear.

"I'm here... here... here..." The echoes persisted, elusive and haunting.

With a jolt, Severus awoke, a scream tearing from his throat. Suddenly, firm hands pressed down on his shoulders, holding him against the soft surface beneath him. "Shh... You need to rest, boy."

"No!" he yelped, his voice hoarse. "I need to find her! Let me go!"

An unexpected warmth washed over him, and he felt the effects of a Calming Spell taking hold. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His bedroom. The room was dark, but he could make out the faint outline of a woman in white standing beside his bed. He groaned, recognizing the familiar figure of Poppy Pomfrey.

"Severus, please calm down," she urged gently. "It's dawn, and you haven't fully recovered. You were severely dehydrated when Minerva brought me here."

His voice cracked as he asked, "Tell me, Poppy. Was she found while I was unconscious?"

Poppy placed a comforting hand on his forehead, her fingers brushing through his hair with soothing strokes. "I'm afraid not, Severus. You've only been out for around twelve hours. Please, rest first. You'll need all your strength if you still intend to continue searching for Miss Granger."

At the mere mention of Hermione's name, the dam Severus had so carefully built within himself shattered. All the emotions he had fought so hard to contain came flooding out, overwhelming him in a torrent of anguish. He cried out in agony, his sobs echoing through the stillness of the room, uncaring if the entire town heard his despair.

Poppy quickly sat on the bed beside him, cradling him as though he were a child. "Hush, dear boy," she whispered, her voice filled with a gentle strength. "Be strong. We will find her."

Severus whimpered, his voice trembling as he forced out the words. "What if she's—she's—dead?" The mere utterance felt more excruciating than any Cruciatus Curse.

Poppy clicked her tongue softly, shaking her head. "Tsk tsk tsk... Don't say such things, Severus. Have faith!"

Despair twisted his features as he choked out, "Am I cursed, Poppy? Is that why everyone who comes near me... disappears? Dies? Don't I deserve... l-love?"

Poppy's heart ached at his anguish. She tightened her hold on him, brushing his hair back with motherly care. "Oh, Severus, you're not cursed," she whispered firmly, her voice gentle yet resolute. "You've suffered more than most, but that doesn't mean you're destined to lose everyone you care for. You deserve love, Severus, just as much as anyone else. More, even, for all you've endured."

She continued to cradle him, trying to infuse him with the strength and hope he so desperately needed. "Hermione is strong, and so are you. We'll find her. Don't lose hope now, not when she needs you most."

Severus didn't know how long he cried before exhaustion finally claimed him, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. The weight of his grief and despair gradually faded as the darkness of sleep enveloped him, offering a temporary reprieve from the torment of his waking thoughts. In that merciful silence, he found a fleeting escape, though he knew it would only last until he awoke to face the cruel reality once more.

~O~

A/N: I'm sorry, but my imagination took me here. I feel guilty having Severus go through all this sadness, I'm crying. While writing, I imagine him looking like Alan Rickman's Rasputin. Thoughts? Suggestions? Please leave a review.