Chapter Four: Hope

Disclaimer : the characters aren't mine, the Potterverse isn't mine, even the prompt is someone else's!

Many thanks to my lovely beta, ladyinthecloak, you are fabulous!

FULL CIRCLE

Chapter 4: Hope

Hermione thanked the manager of the hostel and turned to survey her new living quarters. Her room was at the end of a short, windowless corridor, in which there was also a small bathroom for the use of all six residents of the third floor. The room that she now called home was barely large enough for the narrow bed, wooden chair, wardrobe, and rickety desk that it contained. It was all spotlessly clean, but shabby and badly in need of redecoration. She had stopped at the nearby chain store after leaving the hospital and bought a few essentials with the money advanced from her benefit; a few clothes, cheap but adequate; toiletries; basic food items and utensils, which she had been advised to keep in her room; some pens and paper.

She sank down onto the bed and finally gave in to the despair that she had been holding in for weeks. Her thoughts roiled endlessly, going over the events of the last few months. Her life at Hogwarts, her search with Ron and Harry for the Horcruxes, all seemed to be a dream. She was starting to believe that perhaps it had been a delusion; perhaps she was crazy after all. For hours, she lay on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she considered her future – or lack of one. Eventually, she fell into a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep.

Upon awakening some hours later, she listlessly unpacked her purchases and then had a sparse meal of bread, cheese, fruit, and water. Until her job at the café around the corner started the following week, she had to survive on the small amount of money she had left. Fancy meals were off the menu, at least for a while. She craved a nice, hot cup of tea, but could not face the possibility of meeting any of the hostel's other guests in the communal kitchen downstairs.

Hermione delved into the remaining bag she had yet to empty. It contained the few personal effects that had been in her pockets on the day she was picked up in the alleyway. She found her watch, a few old hair bands, a ragged handkerchief, and a coin. Tossing everything carelessly onto the top of the desk, she sat there looking at the paltry remains of her previous life. Suddenly, she picked up the coin. This was not just any coin, it was a wizarding Galleon, the one Snape had given her just before he left.

She stared at the Galleon in wonder. Its existence meant her years at Hogwarts were real memories, not fantasies. Harry and Ron were real people, not products of her imagination. Hermione was overjoyed to find confirmation of her sanity, but at the same time the coin reinforced her loss. There was little to be gained by knowing she was a witch, if she couldn't be a witch. She knew that her only hope lay in the dark, sardonic wizard who had given her the Galleon. Questions she couldn't answer bedevilled her. Was the War over? Who had won? Did Severus Snape survive? Did he remember?

***

Minutes ticked away endlessly as the group of people observing Severus Snape waited, uncomfortable at witnessing the emotional breakdown of the usually stoic wizard. Eventually he visibly pulled himself together and stood.

"I apologise, that was..."

"Understandable," interrupted Minerva McGonagall. "We have all had months to become accustomed to the dreadful losses, but we still have tears to shed."

"Thank you, Minerva." Snape acknowledged her support by placing a hand on her shoulder, an uncharacteristic gesture for him.

He turned and spoke to others. "Molly, I would be pleased to join you for dinner, but not tonight. Let me have some time to organise myself, then I will be in touch."

"Harry, I am willing to answer any questions you have about your parents. I may not be unbiased with regard to either James or Lily, but I will endeavour to be honest."

Harry simply nodded, too astonished at Snape's use of his first name to voice a response.

"Minerva, unfortunately my answer remains no," he answered her questioning look.

Together, they all made their way out of St Mungo's, Snape surprising everyone, including himself, when he stopped to gracefully thank the attending staff for his care.

As they Apparated to their separate destinations, Minerva and Molly shared a look; perhaps there was potential for Severus Snape after all.

***

Upon arrival at Spinner's End, Snape waited quietly on the narrow cobbled street until he was sure no other person, magical or Muggle, was present. He carefully checked for any evidence that his wards had been breached since his last visit. Once he was satisfied that there had been no interference, he dropped the magical protection and entered the dilapidated brick house. The sitting room was as he had left it: small, dingy, dusty, and full of books. He lit the candles in the ceiling sconce with a flick of his wand and dumped his bags of supplies on the worn sofa. He quickly checked the rest of the house; downstairs a kitchen, complete with the usual Muggle appliances, old but serviceable; upstairs, two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom with faulty plumbing and a leaky toilet. This was the reality of life as a War Hero. At least he had the time and money now to do something about it – if he could be bothered.

Returning to the sitting room, he took the food to the kitchen and stowed it away in the cupboards and the refrigerator. With a stasis charm of his own devising he had neither the need nor the desire to use electricity, but the house was connected to the local network should he require electrical power. A Muggle bank account that he had set up years ago covered any payments required.

After a simple meal of sandwiches and his favourite brew of tea, Snape sat in his armchair and considered his future. Never before had he needed to give this much thought, always assuming that by the time his usefulness to the Order of The Phoenix had run its course, he would be dead. He had never planned for life after Voldemort and was now at a loss as to what to do. There was no way he was going to return to teaching; what he had said to Minerva was a highly edited version of how he felt about that course of action. With his endowment from the Ministry and the money he had saved over his years teaching, he had enough money in his account at Gringotts to live comfortably for a year or so, even after improving the condition of his home. That would be mostly a case of some judiciously applied cleaning and decoration charms, although a few pieces of more comfortable furniture would not go amiss, he decided, while shifting his bottom in the hard, lumpy chair.

Postponing the decision for the meantime, he retired upstairs to lie down on his bed for a rest. Despite his reassurances to the St Mungo's staff, he was still not fully recovered and fatigued easily. He had almost drifted into sleep when he was jolted awake by the sudden recollection of the names of the casualties Minerva had listed. But Hermione Granger isn't dead!

With a flood of images, he remembered the details of the dreams he had been plagued with at St Mungo's. It was Granger he had to find and rescue from her fate as a Muggle. That was what had been nagging at his mind for weeks, the unfinished task he could not remember. His life was no longer meaningless – he had a witch to save.

After considering enlisting the Order's help in his quest, he decided against that particular course of action. Not only would no one but he be able to recognise Granger, if he could not find her and recover her magic, it would be distressing to all concerned. Better not to raise their hopes only to dash them later if he failed. This was a task that he alone could perform.

He reached into his pocket and found the Galleon that he had charmed to match its twin, currently, he hoped, still in Granger's possession. He knew she would not be able to read any messages sent by way of the Protean Charm, but he believed that even a Muggle would feel the heat generated to alert the holder of a message. By activating the charm several times a day, there was a possibility that she would become aware that he was searching for her and not give up on the Wizarding world. He touched his wand to the coin and murmured the necessary spell.

Some miles away, in the same city, a slender girl with a mass of curly brown hair felt the coin that she had taken to carrying around everywhere with her become warm, and for the first time in months, real hope set a smile on her face.

***

A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting. The next chapter is also betaed, tagged and on the way. Based on prompt 93. "Someone has his or her powers stripped away for misuse. Did he/she lose them because of actual misuse or was it a set up? How do they get them back?"