Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape ground out as his eyes shot daggers into her. He looked past her and smiled nastily. "Still collecting strays I see. How nice that the years and a war have not changed you. As Hagrid had collected every dangerous beast under the sun, you seem to gravitate towards every worthless male within your reach. Now why have you darkened my doorstep?"

His eyes darted around suspiciously towards the boys hiding in the overgrown shrubbery. Hermione was still in shock upon seeing him. She had always known, of course, but still it had seemed so far-fetched. A dream, really, but now it was true, and there he was, alive and himself. Harry would be so happy. Perhaps finally he would be able to forgive himself.

"Oh, Professor," she gushed. "I'm so happy you are alive!" Her eyes filled up with tears.

He glowered at her. "You spill one tear, and I will have you thrown off my property!" he raged.

Hermione blinked her tears away fast. "Please, sir, I'm worried about Eugene. He hasn't been around for about a week. I had an unfortunate encounter with his aunt..."

"Charming woman," he said snidely as he crossed his arms. "Reminded me somewhat of Black's mother at headquarters."

Hermione took notice of his state of dress. He wore the same black frock coat and trousers as he had underneath his robes at Hogwarts; however, they were filthy and threadbare. He had patches on his elbows and knees. She looked closer at his neck. There was indeed an old rag covering Nagini's bite. He was entirely grimy and careworn. He was so thin, it shocked her he had the energy to be so nasty.

Hermione collected her thoughts and continued. "I haven't seen Eugene. He always comes to my house so I can feed him and take care of anything he needs. He's special, you realize," she whispered softly.

"Ah, yes," he replied impassively. "I am aware of the lad's talents. Why this is a concern of yours, I cannot fathom."

Hermione was gobsmacked. "He loves me! He told me he wants me to be his mother. He wouldn't just stop coming round without a reason, unless he was ill or hurt. He came to me when he had been beaten up...he knows how deeply I care for him."

"Beaten up?" he snapped with a glimmer of fury in his eyes. He took a step outside of his door. Hermione immediately recoiled from him and was aghast. He stunk to high heaven. It was as if he hadn't had a bath since the final battle. The emaciated look of him was even worse in the sunlight. But even with that, he still had the power to strike the fear of God Almighty into the boys who stood quaking nearby his porch.

He spoke loud and deep. "I don't care to dissemble the situation. You all know your guilt, and you should be horsewhipped within an inch of your worthless lives. If I ever hear of Eugene being mistreated again, and trust me...nothing gets by me...I have my ways," he said in a deadly whisper, "you will regret you were ever born into this miserable world. Now. GO!"

The boys tore out of there, scrambling down towards the main road back to the village.

Professor Snape watched the boys dash out of sight. Then he turned towards his former pupil. "Miss Granger, still the insufferable know-it-all, I see. How disappointing it took you this long to find me."

"Well, I had known it was you Eugene was working for, for quite some time, Professor," she explained.

"Do not call me that," he snapped.

"I knew it had to be you, sir," she said with emphasis. "But I didn't want to interfere with Eugene's life. He was welcome to come to my house, and I was more than happy to feed him and make sure he was washed properly. I also have been taking him to church with me to feed his religious education. He spoke of you often, and I never let on I knew it was you. I respect your wish to be alone. The only reason I'm here is because I was threatened by that horrid aunt of his, and I told her after she insulted you that I was in full agreement with what you said. They should be brought to the authorities for child abuse. He's been poorly neglected. Up till now, I have done my best to give him lots of love and care. I am frightened. I don't know where he is. Have you seen him?"

Professor Snape stared at her with boredom in his eyes. "As always, Miss Granger, your mouth has an uncanny ability to prattle on with useless nonsense. The boy is here. He's been here for a while. That gormless uncle of his came to get him, and I nearly hexed him. I told him he was fortunate the law wasn't at his door and that I would be caring for the lad until the time comes for him to go to his new school. The dunderhead seemed relieved," he recounted with emphasis.

"May I see him?" Hermione pleaded.

Professor Snape stared at her until a twitch near his mouth betrayed a hint of softness. "He's been asking for you," he whispered uncomfortably. "He's under a delusion that a mere child could be a mother to him."

Hermione's anger rose up quickly. "I am nearly twenty, Severus Snape! I am old enough and capable enough to be a mother."

He smiled nastily and raised an eyebrow. "Well, congratulations, Miss Granger. You seem to have acquired a son," he said factiously. "You do realize he wants for you and I to be his parents? How does that make you feel? You're a grown woman. I'm sure you're no shrinking violet. How does the idea of me being your husband strike you? Are you the passionate type that requires a lot of grunting and thrusting, or do you appreciate a slow and gentle lover who will tell you how incredibly desirable you are with each delicate stroke?"

"Don't be disgusting," she said as she felt her cheeks getting warm.

He smiled wickedly. "Well, that poses a difficulty. Sex is disgusting in general or just sex with me?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione set her mouth firmly and remained calm. "You are coarse and your descriptions of sex are repugnant. If you don't mind, I would rather see to Eugene and not continue this discussion," she said bossily.

"After you, Miss Granger," he said sarcastically as he gracefully extended an arm to lead the way.

Hermione walked into the house and was appalled by the lack of care and blatant disregard for cleanliness. It was a filthy, smelly house covered in dust and cobwebs. The house itself was very old, but it appeared structurally sound. The foyer led into a large sitting room where a fireplace dominated the layout of the room. Straight ahead, to the right, was a long staircase that wound up to a second floor. Hermione was just getting her bearings when Eugene barreled down the stairs and flung himself into Hermione's arms.

"Hermione! Oh, Hermione, I knew you'd come!" he said breathlessly. "He had his doubts, but I knew you'd find me."

He turned to Snape. "See, sir? This is Hermione. Isn't she beautiful?"

Snape raised an eyebrow and stalked off into the next room. Eugene took Hermione by the hand, and they followed Snape into the kitchen where it was much cleaner.

Hermione went to help the professor with tea, and she whispered, "Have you told him your real name yet?"

He grimaced. "I had to," he said tersely. "He told me he was calling me 'Mr. Black' when he spoke of me to you." He glared at her, daring her to laugh, but she didn't. She didn't dare.

They all sat down properly and had tea and biscuits. Professor Snape ate nothing, just drank his tea. "So now what are we going to do?" asked Eugene happily, looking at each of them. "What do you think of her? Mr. Snape, sir, isn't Hermione beautiful? She's real young, but wicked smart."

He turned to Hermione. "What d'you think of Mr. Snape? His clothes are shabby, and the house is a bit dirty, but I can fix that. Maybe you can help him with his clothes? He's really smart like you, and you are a witch, and he's a wizard, so you'd be perfect together. We could be a family. Then maybe I'd have a brother or sister. So, what do you think? DO you want to get married?"

Hermione choked on her tea at the mentioning of "brother or sister."

Snape looked at her with barely concealed rage. "Eugene," he said calmly. "There are many wizards and witches in the world. I am sure that Miss Granger would not willingly choose me as a husband. Besides, I have my own taste in witches. Miss Granger does not fit the bill."

Hermione's ears perked up. "Eugene," she said as she kept her eyes on Professor Snape, "go to your room. I need to speak with the professor."

After Eugene had left, she leaned towards him and hissed, "What is this nonsense? Why are you claiming Lily is coming back to you? She's dead. DEAD! She's been dead for almost twenty years!"

Hermione watched as the professor, who had been so sharp-witted and cutting with his tongue, dissolve into a confused and uncertain little boy before her eyes.

"That's not true," he whispered in a scared, shaky voice. "T-The Dark Lord p-promised me, and then D-Dumbledore k-kept her safe. He protected her. That's why I came back to H-Hogwarts. It was the bargain I struck with the Headmaster. She's in hiding. She just has to realize all I did to save her son, and she'll come back to me. S-She'll forgive me this time. I helped her son kill the Dark Lord. She'll come back, and when she does, I shall be prepared to give her everything she ever wanted. She always loved the Lake District. She loved to recite Wordsworth.

"O pleasant transit, Grasmere! to resign

And having rights in all that we behold.

"I knew it would have to be Grasmere. At first, I feared, but she has been scrying on my work. She comes to me and talks to me in the mirror in my room. She's coming back as soon as she can. I just have to get things arranged and clean."

He began to smooth his clothes and brush off his filthy frock coat, as if that all what was needed to make him presentable. Hermione thought she had found Professor Snape. Instead, she had discovered a schizophrenic. The professor who had met her on his porch and insulted her had been the real Professor Snape. This...this...child was living in some alternate universe. His face was smoother, happier, and even perhaps a bit younger. Could it be he thought he was back in his teen years or early twenties? Whatever it was, it was terrible to behold. Hermione's face was numb with shock, but still felt the tears that were streaming from her eyes steadily dripping onto her hands, which were shaking in fear.

Hermione swallowed and regained her composure. She hastily dried her eyes and began to think. He needs his memory back, that's all. He's been through a terrible shock, near death experience and all that.

Hermione's face continued to pale as she watched the professor she once knew, stumble alongside the road to madness. She would have to intervene. She would need Harry, forgiven or not.

Hermione found herself on the horns of a dilemma. She came each day to see Eugene, who ignorantly worked feverishly to clean the house along with the professor, who remained resolute in his belief that Lily was still alive. Hermione learned quickly not to speak her name if she wanted to avoid screaming rages and death threats. As long as she worked and kept to herself and Eugene, the professor was calm and sedate. Hermione still did not know if Harry was strong enough for this situation. One thing she was convinced of was that the professor desperately needed his memories back.

She worked hard, dusting surfaces, scrubbing floors, polishing the wood furniture to a shine. The professor worked himself to a frazzle, all the while refusing to eat when Hermione required an afternoon break for lunch.

One day, Hermione threw her rag down and bellowed, "I've had enough of this! Severus Snape, get into that kitchen and eat, or I will hex you!"

He looked up at her from where he was cleaning out the grate of the fireplace. His eyes were burning with a rage that was building underneath the surface.

"Do not presume to order me around, Miss Granger," he whispered. He then slowly turned and continued his snail's pace of cleaning the grate. Hermione decided to appeal to his greed.

"If you eat, sir, you will be able to have more energy to clean more efficiently," she said sweetly.

This time he didn't even look at her. "You just don't want to help. You're just jealous. You don't want Lily here. I don't need you. You don't belong here anyway. When Lily comes, she will be Eugene's mother. The three of us will be a family. Go away."

Hermione noticed his sentences were short and his breathing shallow. He was going to kill himself with this hallucination. She was going to have to take drastic measures, and damn the consequences. She drew her wand and said calmly, "Petrificus Totalus."

He fell over frozen onto the floor. Eugene dashed down the stairs from where he had been cleaning the banisters. "What did you do?" he yelled. "Why are you hurting him?"

He began to cry, and Hermione knelt onto the floor and said, "Eugene, I haven't hurt him. I'm sorry, but you need to go home to your aunt and uncle, just for a while. The professor is sick. I had to paralyze him, so I could get him back to my house. There I can feed him and get him clean. Do you understand?"

Eugene gulped back his sobs, and Hermione wiped his tears with the corner of her apron.

"He'll need to eat and take a bath." She looked over at his pathetically thin frame and sighed at the condition of his robes. "He needs clean clothes as well," she muttered as she bit her lower lip.

She turned to look back at Eugene and said, "I will have to send for help to get the professor thinking straight again. Do you understand?"

Eugene's face grew hard. "You don't want me anymore. You just want to get rid of me!"

Hermione shook her head furiously. "No! Never, Eugene, would I do such a thing. I would have you come with me this instant, but these are very serious grown-up things I must do. You don't want to see the professor when he realizes what I have done to him. It's for your own safety. I will come round for you or have someone send for you. Don't worry." She hugged him and watched him leave. She took Professor Snape by the hand and Apparated into her house.

With a deep breath, she removed the spell, and he was furious. "How dare you!" he spat. "I demand you take me back to my house this instant!"

"No!" Hermione shouted as she pushed him further inside the cottage. You will remove those filthy rags you call clothes and get into a bath. You need a good scrubbing, and if you refuse to do it, I shall!"

She looked at him with her hands on her hips, boring her eyes into his. She saw he was trying to decide what to do, but they both knew he had run himself physically into the ground. He was weak as a newborn kneazle and couldn't perform magic against her in that condition. He was at her mercy.

"Fine," he acquiesced. "Please give me my privacy, at least."

"Of course," she replied.

She led him down the hall to the bathroom. She gave him all the necessities he would need. As she turned to leave, she said, "Just so you know, I shall be right outside the door. Any funny business, and I'll not hesitate to enter, so you'd best make short work of your bath."

His eyes were throwing daggers at her as she left the room. She heard the water running and the telltale splashing that he was cleaning himself. She came in, and he began to bluster.

"Miss Granger! I am not fit to be seen. Get. Out!"

Hermione sat on the lid of the loo and said, "Well, you've got at least one thing right. You are not fit to be seen. You are downright filthy. I am going to wash your hair, Professor. You are disgustingly dirty. Look at that water! It's revolting. You'll take a shower after the water is drained.

She stopped speaking as she stared at his throat. The filthy rag he had wrapped around his throat still remained.

"What is that thing still doing on you?" she demanded.

"I have to keep the wound covered, you little twit!" he snapped.

"Not encased in that mangy thing," she contradicted. "Take it off, now!"

She pointed her wand at him, and he took it off. She left her wand carefully out of reach and got onto her knees to examine the puncture wound closely.

"Well, Professor, you started out well, I can tell by the smell of old dittany that you have thoroughly cleaned it. However, you have insisted on keeping that putrid material with old dittany and blood on it, and now, you've got an infection. She proceeded to scrub his hair clean. She turned on the water and pulled the drain.

"I'm pulling the curtain, and you will rinse the shampoo out of your hair and clean the rest of your body in the shower. I want you squeaky clean, Professor!" she warned. She pulled the curtain and waited until she heard the water turn off and heard a mumbled, "I've finished."

She left the room so he could dry off. "I transfigured a bathrobe to fit you. It's right there, hanging on the hook on the door. Put that on, and let me see you."

He came out shortly and looked at her with pure loathing. She felt his hair, scalp, the backs of his ears, neck and examined his hands. She took him upstairs with her to her Potions lab and looked for the potion she needed for his infection.

She touched his neck more thoroughly. "Does this hurt?" she asked as she applied pressure to various areas of his neck. At one point he winced. Hermione took out a bottle of Murtlap Essence and dabbed it all over the area. "How is that?" she asked again.

"Fine," he ground out.

She took out a bottle of Wound Cleaning Potion and continued to heal him. She glanced at him every so often as his eyes darted around him. After she had finished, she said, "All right, I am done. Keep that wound uncovered. In a couple of days, the infection will be gone, and you'll be fine."

She looked up and watched him look curiously at her lab. He looked at her neatly written labels and all the ingredients in her stores.

"You make your own potions?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied as she leaned against her lab table.

He looked at her with a wary eye. "You are able to receive proper ventilation up here in this rat trap?" he asked sharply.

She matched his stare. "My skill in the art of potion making is sufficient to ascertain whether or not I possess the proper ventilation needed," she retorted confidently.

"And what exactly gives you the delusion that you possess the subtle art of potion making?" he said as he continued to examine her stores.

"Well, I had better, or you were a piss-poor teacher, sir," she said smartly.

He glared at her and walked towards the door. "Cheek! You were always a cheeky girl when it suited you. I order you to return my clothes to me, and then I demand you Apparate me back to my house," he said imperiously.

"Not just yet, Professor, now come with me," she said as she took him by the hand. He tried to wrench his hand from hers, but she was far stronger. She led him downstairs to the kitchen sink.

"Accio spare toothbrush and toothpaste!" she trilled.

The items came soaring into the room, and she handed them to the professor. "Now, brush your teeth."

She knew he wanted to strangle her, but was in no condition to confront her. After he was finished, she led him into her sitting room that was next to the kitchen. She could observe him from there while she prepared his dinner. She dried his hair with a towel and lowered his head onto a plush pillow. He sighed as he sank into her plush couch, and she lengthened it to accommodate his height. She covered him with a soft blanket and tucked him in like a child. He was so lost and helpless; Hermione couldn't help the tears from welling up. She had never seen him in so vulnerable.

He slept while she cooked. She roasted a chicken, made baked potatoes and green beans. She also made an apple pie while the meal cooked, and she went to tend to him as the chicken finished cooking.

"Severus," she whispered as she stroked his arm. "I need you to wake up."

Weary eyes met hers, and she smiled. She conjured a chair and took one of his thin hands with a nail trimmer and emery board.

"What are you doing?" he rasped.

She had her head bend over his hand to carefully examine each finger. "Your nails were overgrown and caked with layers of dirt. Soaking in the bath helped a great deal to release the muck, but your nails are still in bad shape and need trimming." After she finished trimming, she took out a lotion for his dried out skin. She massaged and rubbed the lotion into his hands and arms, one at a time. The professor kept his eyes closed and stopped protesting. Hermione smiled. He must be enjoying this now.

When she was finished with his hands, she uncovered his feet.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he roared as he pulled his feet back protectively.

Hermione looked up at him with poorly restrained frustration. "Your feet, Professor, are in a frightful state as well. You have got to learn to be more consistent with cleanliness."

"You are an impudent bitch!" he seethed.

"Look!" she shouted as she whipped out her wand. "I had just about enough of your whining. If you want to get out of this house alive, I suggest you cooperate. I highly doubt anyone would miss you," she added, thinking of how he had threatened Eugene.

She began to tend to his feet. They weren't so bad. Just needed a trimming and lotion for dried out skin. He was just so thin and pathetic looking. Then she realized he wasn't yelling at her.

She looked up sharply, and his black eyes were large and glassy. "Lily would miss me," he whispered softly. Hermione didn't know if he was even speaking to her or not. She didn't know if he was aware of her presence.

She made short work of his feet and tucked them back under the blanket, cozy and warm. She went to the kitchen and washed her hands, sighing deeply as she went about her tasks. She felt mentally exhausted. She had to not think too much about all of it. So, she decided on getting him physically sorted first, and then she could work on getting Harry to give up the memories he had kept for the professor.

Poem taken from Memorials Of A Tour in Scotland, 1803 by William Wordsworth, Part One: Departure. From the Vale of Grasmere, August 1803.