Chapter Five: Searching

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!

Chapter 5: Searching

Hermione found her job at the café unchallenging, but at least it was interesting. All manner of people frequented the trendy coffee shop, from the regulars who sat at the same tables and ordered the same lattes on their way to work, returning later to pick up the office lunch order, to the passers-by who stopped for coffee or a light snack whilst shopping. The latter included groups of gossiping young mothers accompanied by small children of varying ages and behaviours; solitary older men and women who seemed to have little else to do other than sit and watch the world go by; and couples meeting for nerve-racking first dates, bitter arguments and barely concealed fondling under the tablecloth. She treated them all equally, with a welcoming smile and polite attention, but did not get involved with their transient presence in her life. Her employer was a pleasant, fair woman, who appreciated her new staff member's punctuality and diligence and asked no questions about her personal life, which suited Hermione perfectly.

Twice a day, as regular as Hogwarts' mealtimes, the coin heated. Each time it did so, she felt renewed optimism that someone out there was aware of her continued existence. Hermione, in her usual logical manner, did some research, made notes, and considered the possibilities. She checked the local library's computerised press files. There was one brief report of unusual lights having been sighted overnight in Northern Scotland at the beginning of May, which had been attributed to atmospheric conditions, but there were no newspaper reports of unexplained accidents or murders since she had been abducted. From this she assumed that Voldemort had been defeated, but she had no way of knowing who had survived the battle at Hogwarts or whether there were any Death Eaters still at large. Whether it was Snape activating the coin, or someone else, she felt it likely that they were friend, not foe.

Hermione was almost convinced that Snape was still alive and in possession of the other charmed Galleon. It appeared that he had left her immediately before the final battle took place, and if that was the case, he would have had little time to pass the coin to a member of the Order if he had perished. Furthermore, as he had been regarded as a traitor at the time, he would have had little opportunity to do so. If her erstwhile professor was indeed alive, was he safe and well? Was he truly on the side of the Light? She could not imagine that he would have given her the Galleon if he was not. Presumably he was not locked up in Azkaban, as he had the use of his wand. He could be on the run, or if circumstances had been favourable, living free. Would he have given the charmed coin to another who would not recognise her if she was found? Every question led to more questions until her head was spinning with possibilities. Despite this, she remained positive. Someone, somewhere, was activating that Galleon for a reason.

She had considered returning to her childhood home. She discarded this possibility as soon as it had arisen; the last thing she had done, after modifying her parents' memories and sending them off to Australia, was to set several layers of wards and Muggle-repelling charms on the house. Without magic, there was no way she could safely enter. She likewise could not retrieve her parents, as only she could lift the enchantment set on them and restore their memories. Contacting her more distant relatives, of whom there were few, she had also decided against, as it would be too difficult to explain the disappearance of her parents. Although she missed her parents, she was comforted with the knowledge that they were safe and likely to be doing well as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, sans daughter. Her biggest regret was the distress her disappearance would have caused Harry, Ron and her other wizarding friends. She felt saddened at the knowledge that they likely thought her dead and were moving on with life without her. Her nascent relationship with Ron had been cut off before it had had a chance to blossom, and the might-have-beens were a constant source of emotional turmoil.

The weeks passed, as time does, with the days melding into one another in their similitude. She didn't bother finding a flat. The hostel was cheap, close to the café, and met her simple needs quite adequately. She worked hard six days a week, kept to herself, and, as far as her fellow hostel residents were concerned, was a pleasant but quiet neighbour. On her day off she was often to be found at the library, reading or searching the internet for any news that may relate to wizarding events, as she had not yet given up on finding her way back to the wizarding community. The charmed Galleon was her lodestone, her means to keep faith with the witch she had been, the witch that was still within.

One such day, she was idly sitting in front of the library computer when it occurred to her to search for the name Snape. Having assumed that there would be no references to witches' or wizards' names on the internet, she had never bothered trying before, but she had remembered the snippet of information previously gleaned about the Half Blood Prince. His father was a Muggle. She typed in Tobias Snape and waited for the search results. Much to her surprise, there were two references to the name. One was from a genealogical site and confirmed that the Snape in question was indeed her ex-professor's father. The other was from a local council's register of dwellings and had Tobias Snape recorded as a previous owner of a dwelling in Spinner's End, which was in the very city she was in now. Excited, she clicked on the link to the current owner – none other than Severus Snape himself. She noted down the address and left the computer to peruse the large city map on the wall nearby. There, just a few miles away, was her hope of salvation. All she had to do was take a short bus ride to the area, then walk a few blocks, and she would be outside Severus Snape's home. Of course, Snape may not have returned there, and if he did, being the paranoid, untrusting man that he was, he was likely to have taken measures to avoid disturbance, but it was a start. A very promising start.

***

Snape was exhausted. Physically tired, mentally fatigued, and emotionally drained. He had spent the day at the Burrow, trying to make good his promises made at St Mungo's. He was still nowhere near back to full fitness, and the effort of pretending to be fit and well had been hard work, but better that than Molly's infernal mothering. He had genuinely tried to keep up a pleasant demeanour and had sat down with Harry to answer his many questions about James and Lily. Surprisingly, the boy had been mature and thoughtful in his enquiry, respectfully avoiding the delicate issue of Snape's relationship with his mother.

Eventually, he had made his excuses, thanked his hosts and Apparated back home. The dreary house at Spinner's End may not have been much to look at, but it was a safe haven away from the well-meaning attempts of Molly and her clan to socialise him. He had cleaned and tidied the house, but didn't really have any inclination to change the décor. A new armchair was his only purchase; having few visitors made buying any other new furniture somewhat redundant. The purchase of some basic ingredients had given him something to do, stocking up his cupboards with medicinal supplies and other commonly used potions. He had no need to work for the next year or so and was enjoying the freedom of living his life as he saw fit, rather than to the whims of one or other of his previous taskmasters. His main mission now was to find Hermione Granger and attempt to restore her magic.

As he sat, comfortably now, in his armchair in front of the empty fireplace, he contemplated his progress. He had Apparated to her parents' home, to find solid wards and anti-Muggle measures in place, presumably Granger's work. Without magic, there was no way she could get into the house. He had visited the place where he had left her and made enquiries in the surrounding area to no avail. Nobody remembered seeing anyone answering to Granger's description. A little Legilimency applied here and there was no more rewarding. Activating the Galleon twice daily was all he could do, hoping that she was alive and well, and had not cast it aside.

Snape considered his next move in his search for the girl. She had not been in a good state of mind when he had left her, so some subtle interrogation at local hospitals, with or without the aid of a well-placed Confundus, was next on his agenda. He leaned back in his chair, puzzling over what had happened to Granger and why it had become so important to him to find her. Recurrent nightmares of her capture and treatment by Voldemort had continued to disturb his sleep, each time waking him with a feeling of helplessness and failure. She had become his means of redemption; he had invested in her deliverance from the non-magical world as his way of redressing some of the evil deeds he had done in his role as a spy, and earlier. Furthermore, deep down in that place where he used to have a heart, he desperately wanted to save her, to see that annoying, bushy hair and hear her ask another irritatingly perceptive question. Don't give up, Hermione, he thought as he touched the Galleon with his wand. Don't give up on me.

***

The bus wound its way through increasingly seedy areas of town. The houses became more rundown, there was more graffiti on fences and walls, and there was a general air of neglect pervading the streets. Eventually, Hermione stepped off the bus at the last stop on the route. She looked around her and studied the map she had bought. Spinner's End was a few streets closer to the old, disused mill she could see over to her left. So this is the environment Snape grew up in. No wonder he is so unpleasant and foul-tempered. To experience childhood in a place like this, and later spend years teaching unappreciative, often disinterested students whilst at the same time laying your life on the line for them, spying on an unpredictable, cruel, psychopath, would take the joy out of anyone's life.

On that thought, she set off down the footpath, looking for the sign that indicated she had reached her goal. Turning down the mean little street, she saw that the buildings all looked as if they had been abandoned long ago. The houses stopped just before the number she had written down. On closer appraisal, she could see a slight distortion in the air beside the last dwelling in the row. Suspecting that the home she sought was Secret-Kept, and thus not visible, she walked toward the exposed wall of the last house. Unsurprisingly she found herself with a strong urge to go elsewhere. Muggle-repelling charms! She smiled to herself; she may no longer have any magical power, but she could still recognise the presence of magic if she knew what to look for. Buoyed by that thought, she settled down on the dilapidated front steps of the house across the street to await any sign of the invisible building's owner.

***

The tall, ascetic man sitting in the corner of the coffee shop studied the staff who came and went from the kitchen without drawing attention to himself. After several days of discreet questioning of local hospital staff, he had been able to ascertain that Hermione had indeed been brought in to the local Casualty Department and later transferred to a small, state-run psychiatric institution. She had spent two months there before having been discharged. An enlightening conversation with a mildly Confunded social worker named Amanda had led him to this particular location where he was waiting to see whether his search was at an end. He did not want to alert her of his presence by asking for her, as after his talk with Amanda he was unsure of Hermione's state of mind or whether she wanted to be found. He had altered his appearance with a temporary Glamour charm in order to remain incognito. Shorter, brown hair, and hazel eyes, along with Muggle clothes, was enough to render him sufficiently different in appearance to the unsuspecting eye. He would have approached her at home, but the social worker had not been sure of her address on discharge.

By the time the café was due to close, he had determined that she was not there, but would be working the next day. Congratulating himself on a job well done, he paid his bill, left a generous tip for the talkative waitress, and found a quiet doorway from which to Apparate home.

***

Hermione awoke with a start as she heard the distinctive crack of Apparition. Peering across the road to the source of the sound, she caught a glimpse of a swirl of black fabric which disappeared almost immediately. She knew that by falling asleep, she had missed her opportunity to find out whether Snape was alive and living at Spinner's End, but at least she had confirmed that someone was using the house. Wearily, she traipsed back to the bus shelter, reluctant to leave, but knowing that she should not linger in such a disreputable area for too much longer into the evening. She planned to return on her next day off.

***

Snape peered out of the second floor window to the street below. He had noticed a disturbance in his wards and assumed it had been from some passing Muggle earlier in the day. If he had looked further down the cobbled street, he would have seen a familiar figure with a mass of bushy hair wending her way to the corner.

***

A/N 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 ba