Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Once dinner was finished cooking, Hermione helped Severus to sit up and gave him his plate. He tore into the food and in no time was finished. He lay back down and slept.

The hours passed, and he woke again that evening. She gave him a thick slice of apple pie, and he ate that just as fast as his dinner. Hermione gave him a large glass of milk and ordered it to go down. She had retrieved a Strengthening Solution while he had slept earlier and made him drink that as well. Severus slept while Hermione ate her dinner and composed a carefully written letter to Ginny, telling her about the professor and that she needed Harry to let her have the memories. After she had sent Archimedes, her owl, to fly away with the letter, all she could do now was wait.

She slept a little while the professor slept through the night. In the morning, she woke to find him gone. She panicked. Then she heard a voice and sobbing from one of her bedrooms. There she found Professor Snape talking to an old, long, oval mirror she had brought down from the attic when she had first moved in The mirror was very old and beautiful; however, she had not wanted it in her room, so she had placed it in the guest room. Now, there was Potions master, Professor Severus Snape, spy for the Order of the Phoenix, Occlumens against the most evil Dark wizard that had ever lived, and one of the most ruthless wizards alive, sobbing and begging on the floor in front of an antique mirror.

"Why don't you come, Lily?" he whispered as his voice hitched from his sobbing. "I worked so hard. I took care of your son, and now he's all grown-up with a wife of his own. I love you, Lily! You told me you loved me! I'm sorry I disappointed you. I knew taking the Mark was wrong, but he's dead now. Can't you forgive and stop punishing me? I didn't want to leave our house, that evil witch hexed me. Please, come back to me, Lily!" His hands pressed against the mirror as if he wanted to crawl inside it.

Hermione's blood turned cold. He was mad. She walked in carefully, and his tear-stained face turned to her. "She just wants to stay silent. She won't let me see her. She won't even come to me in the mirror. Why did you take me from my house? You have ruined everything! Why can't she forgive me?" he raged.

He burst into a new wave of tears, and Hermione's heart went out to him. She went to his side on the floor, and he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly as he sobbed in her lap. She delicately wrapped her arms around him as she looked at their reflection in the mirror.

After he stopped crying, Hermione directed him from the bedroom back to the kitchen. He began to regain some lucidity, and she sat with him at her kitchen table with a strong cup of tea and listened as he spoke.

"I remember so much, but there are blank spots in my mind," he whispered deeply. "Miss Granger, I must return to my house. Perhaps she will not enter into this house, or maybe she thinks I have left her and am with you?" He grew frantic and rose to leave, not registering that he was only dressed in a robe.

"Please, sir, you must stay here. You must! You are not well," Hermione insisted as she tried to contain him without actually touching him.

He rounded on her, grabbed her arms in an iron grip, and hissed, "What I am or am not is none of your business! You wretched little swot; how dare you presume to dictate to me how I should live my life?"

Hermione ripped herself from his grip. "It became my business the minute Eugene became a part of my life. For whatever reason, he wants us. You have to snap out of this delusion. Lily is dead! She died in 1981..."

"SHE DID NOT DIE!" he screamed as he threw his cup of tea across the room, crashing the pottery into the opposite wall.

"I want my clothes back and for you to Apparate me back to my home, right this instant!" he shrieked as he crashed his fist onto her table.

"I will not!" retorted Hermione, although feeling increasingly nervous about his violent temper. "You are ill, Professor. Don't you remember your life before teaching at Hogwarts? What do you remember?"

It was her last chance to get him to talk about Lily. She hardly dared to breathe as his black eyes glassed over, and he slumped down in his chair.

"I remember her kiss on my cheek. She was my best friend. We made potions together in class. She loved me. I know she loved me. Then she wouldn't talk to me. I don't know what I did!" he slammed his fists on the table in frustration. "I-I can't understand. She was my friend, my only friend. She was everything to me. The Dark Lord said he would spare her. He swore to me. For insurance, the Headmaster took them, Lily, Potter, and that boy and hid them. I know that Potter couldn't have kept her for long. She'll forgive me now. I know she will," he whispered.

"Do you remember the first time you met her?" she asked.

His eyes focused on her, and they snapped. "Damn you infernal chit! Did I not just say my memory has blank spots in it?" he bellowed.

Hermione steadied herself. He was going to be difficult to contain soon. "I'll go and get your clothes, Professor," she said quietly as she stood up slowly. She had washed his clothes while he'd slept and patched the holes in them. The cloth he'd worn around his neck was repulsive, as it had copious amounts of dried dittany on it mixed with old blood, so that had gone straight into the rubbish bin. She came back with the bundle of clothes and his boots and said, "Let me see your wound, Professor. I want to make sure medicine is working against your infection."

"Don't you dare touch me, you wench!" he yelled. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have no infection, and my wound is none of your business. Actually, nothing pertaining to my body is any of your business. I shall care for Eugene. You may see to his eating and clothing needs. I shall care for his education. Besides, he is a wizard. What could you possibly know about wizards?"

"A great deal since I spent nearly a year living with two on the run from Voldemort!" she shouted.

"Don't say his name!" he hollered.

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped at him. "Your stupid Mark doesn't hurt anymore, even I know that. I've been to the trials!" She pointed at his arm as she continued to bellow at him. "I've watched Harry interrogate several of your past associates. I know that thing doesn't hurt."

He snatched his clothes from her and stalked to the bathroom. Hermione was ready to pull her hair out. The man was simply a crazy tyrant. She had to get Harry here to restore to him his memories before they ended up killing each other.

Every so often, while Hermione waited for Ginny to reply, she went to the professor's house to help with the cleaning. When she had first retrieved Eugene from his aunt and uncle, he'd been so happy to see her; he hadn't let her go the entire time she'd spoken with them. She had told them that Eugene was special and that the things they had witnessed were not just their imaginations. She'd given a fine display of nonverbal magic, and they had gone into hysterics. They'd told her to get out of their house and to take the boy with her.

So, Eugene in due course became the ward of Hermione Granger. She was happy to see him out of that terrible home, but she couldn't escape the fact he was jumping from one frying pan into the next. The professor was still as insane as ever, whispering to Eugene when he thought Hermione couldn't hear him that Lily was going to be his mother, Hermione would only be around until she returned, and they would be a proper family. Eugene argued continuously that he didn't like Lily; he wanted Hermione to be his mum. That would enrage the professor to no end, and the screaming and threats would start. That would be when Hermione would take Eugene home.

"But, Hermione," Eugene whined as she held his hand tightly, walking away from the professor's latest tantrum, "he needs us! He'll die if we don't help him."

"Eugene," Hermione said firmly as she continued to quickly march them to the Apparition point, "I want you to understand something." She stopped and placed her arms on his shoulders. "I realize the professor is ill. And we will continue to help in whichever way we can. However, that doesn't mean he is allowed to scream, threaten, and carry on because he is frustrated. We'll try returning tomorrow and see if his mood has improved."

"But you won't give up on him, Hermione, will you?" he asked with his wide-blue eyes open with pain.

She ran her fingers through his black hair. "No, Eugene. As long as he keeps letting us in, I won't give up on him."

Eugene hugged her fiercely, and she laid her cheek on his head and sighed. She hoped she wouldn't live to regret this.

The professor would grow disgustingly filthy every so often, and Hermione would have to force him back to her house and order him to bathe and eat while she tried to make one garment out of the tatters his old one had become. Finally, one day she gave up the fight.

"Professor," she said in frustration as she worked on yet another hole in his trousers, "I think this has given up the ghost."

She looked up and saw him staring at her. "Why do you insist on taking care of me as if I were some homeless mongrel?"

Hermione continued to look at the offending garment without missing a beat. "Since I found out you insist living like one," she retorted calmly. She looked up and said, "Professor, I assure you that I do not enjoy having to ambush you in your own house, Apparate you to my home, wrestle, argue, and half-way hex you into making you look like a decent human being. If it were not for Eugene, I daresay, I wouldn't take the time to care." Inside, Hermione winced at her lie. She knew she would care. Harry would never forgive her if he knew she'd given up on the professor.

"Now, I will be going to Diagon Alley for new clothes," she informed him. "You shall write down your sizes so I can purchase you a new suit of clothes and robes."

"What store?" he bit out. "I am particular to the material against my skin."

"I'm sure!" she said mockingly. "So what do you want me to ask for? 60% cotton and 40% old mud or was that 40% silk and 60% caked on dust mixed with sweat?"

"I am perfectly capable of caring for myself. I don't require your charity," he growled.

Hermione remained focused on sewing the patchwork trousers in front of her. "If you were, Professor, I wouldn't have to drag your arse here every three weeks to get you to clean it," she answered sourly. "If you want to be a part of Eugene's life, you have to admit your status as a role model and keep yourself tidy."

He ignored her then, as was his wont when he didn't want to debate a point any further or concede defeat. "Just give me my clothes, and I shall be on my way," he demanded.

Hermione smirked at him. "I have just destroyed them, Professor, save these trousers. They were not fit for wearing." She threw his fixed trousers and clean shirt at him to put on. You will remain here in my house whilst I go to Diagon Alley and purchase new sets of robes and clothes. If you insist on being stubborn, I shall 'guesstimate' the sizes. I'll just need to alter whatever is too large."

He huffed as he scratched out his measurements on a piece of parchment at her writing desk. He strode over as majestically as one could in a terrycloth bathrobe and shoved it under her nose.

Hermione looked at it without touching it and then frowned. "Sir, I need to know what size you require for underwear," she asked.

"You have no business knowing such private information," he ground out, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"Come now," she said with a sigh. "Give over, Professor." She gestured for him to return to the desk and complete the parchment. He wrote furiously as he spoke.

"I have never met such a bossy, obstinate witch in all my life!" he spat. He thrust the parchment her way. "Meddlesome bint!

"Twilfitt and Tattings, if you please," he said angrily.

"Well!" she huffed. "Aren't we picky and choosy today," she said, feigning being insulted.

She got her cloak and said, "I shall return as soon as possible." Then, she Disapparated away with a small pop.

Upon her entrance into Diagon Alley, she went straight away to Twilfitt and Tattings and purchased all he required. She also bought him a new traveling cloak and extra robes to wear whilst brewing.

Upon her return, a raging Professor Snape approached her. "How dare you!" he bellowed as he stood in her bathrobe. "You kept me here like a prisoner!" Hermione handed over his new clothes, and he took them roughly from her. He had sense enough to realize he was in no position to protest, so he accepted the new garments.

Hermione smiled. "I see you tried to break my wards?" she asked. "You've only depleted your energy even more, you foolish wizard," she tutted as he slammed the bedroom door in her face.

Hermione wondered from time to time as she watched the dilapidated old house turn into a cozy home if the professor was not entirely insane. As she watched him work, he was able to focus, give direction, and also he brewed (via the aid of Hermione's stores), which meant that he was still quite lucid for extended periods of time. It was only when it came to Lily that his instability came to a head.

In an attempt to test her hypothesis, Hermione insisted that she be present for all of Eugene's lessons, and it furthered her belief that the wizard was not totally mad. He was an effective teacher, much more patient than with his other pupils from her school days. When she had asked him about it, he had snapped, "Well, if I only had one student to teach, instead of twenty dunderheads at a time, I wouldn't be worried so much about my bollocks being blown off me, now would I?"

Hermione kept one eye on the professor and the other on Eugene. It was an exhausting summer. Sometimes, at night, Hermione wondered if she ever would hear from Ginny. She thought a lot about just either writing again or going back and getting Harry herself.

The inside of the house was complete. With a little magic and a lot of hard work, the old house fairly shone. Hermione stood in front of the long fireplace in the main room of the downstairs in her shorts and a shirt she had tied up above her waist, a handkerchief wrapped around her hair to keep the dirt out and blacking smudges on her hands, arms and face. Her face was flushed and her breathing irregular from having just completed blacking the iron. The professor came out of the room underneath the stairs and stopped cold.

Hermione turned to the footsteps behind her. "What?" she said as she panted, wiping sweat off her brow, only succeeding in smearing more blacking around her face.

"You look ridiculous," he snapped as he continued to stare at her. "You realize there is a young boy in this house, don't you? Your clothing is indecent. You look..." He stopped short and stalked off into the kitchen.

Hermione got back down on her knees and shook her head as she gathered all the trash from her labors. "Eugene!" Hermione called. "It's time to go home for dinner."

Eugene came out from one of the upstairs bedroom. "Aw, Hermione, do we have to go? I like my room. I think we should all stay here."

"Eugene," she corrected gently. "Our food is at Garden Cottage," she reminded him. "There isn't a proper bit of food in this house."

"There would be if I went to the store!" the young boy offered eagerly. "Then you could stay the night! All of us could stay here. Hermione could sleep with the professor in his room so he won't be lonely!"

"EUGENE!" shouted Professor Snape from the kitchen.

"We'll think about staying over, Eugene. But not tonight and certainly not with me sharing a bed with the professor," she said firmly.

Eugene sulked down the stairs.

"Professor," she called. "You are welcome to have supper with us. You know you are always welcome."

"I shall stay here, thank you very much!" he answered snidely from inside the kitchen.

Eugene broke from Hermione and ran to Severus. Hermione could hear the boy pleading. Hermione placed all the used and dirty newspaper into the rubbish bin in the hall. She could hear and see clearly Eugene's efforts to make the professor change his mind.

Severus was sitting in his usual chair, against the wall, sipping tea or something, trying to ignore Eugene's pleadings.

Eugene stood across from him on the other side of the table. "Why don't you come? Hermione is nice. She's so much better than some old lady whose not even real!"

Hermione held in her breath and waited for the explosion. There was nothing. The silence frightened her. When she re-opened her eyes, she couldn't see Eugene She dashed into the kitchen and saw Eugene kneeling on the other side of Professor Snape. His face was white and confused. Hermione silently directed the boy to leave the room. The professor's head was resting on the table. His hands were in his hair, and Hermione knew there were tears rolling down his face. She knelt down at his side and placed her hand delicately on his back.

"WHY DO YOU INSIST ON TOUCHING ME?" he roared as he pushed her from him. He stood up quickly and stared at her with a strange look she had never seen on his face before.

Hermione had been knocked to the floor, and she slowly got to her feet, on her knees, too scared to move, looking at the professor warily. Eugene strode over to the professor and hit him in the stomach. "Don't you hurt her!" he screamed. "Hermione's only been nice to you. She's taken care of us, and you keep on being mean! Why can't you be nice? She just wants to make sure you're okay and take care of you!"

Eugene stood breathing heavily as Hermione watched something click in Snape's head. He ran one of his long hands through the boy's lanky black hair and then wrapped his arms around him, whispering, "I'm sorry, Eugene. I shouldn't have done that to Miss Granger."

Eugene wriggled out of his arms. "She's 'Hermione'! Why can't you call her Hermione? Why can't you love her? She's here. I don't want your old Lily anyway!" He ran out and dashed up the stairs to the room he had claimed as his own.

Professor Snape looked glumly at the table. Hermione was still on the floor, afraid to move.

"It seems I owe you an apology, Miss Granger," he said stiffly as he offered her his hand.

"It's fine," she whispered, brushing it off as she stood up. "I know you have an aversion to being touched. I should keep that in mind more often." She went to walk out of the kitchen without looking at him, and he grabbed her by the wrist. Hermione froze at the warm contact of his hand on her body. He had never touched her of his own accord.

"You have been kind. I am not accustomed to altruistic kindness. I would like to accept your offer of dinner. That is, if I am still welcome." He turned his face to look at hers.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"You have blacking smudges on your face," he said quietly.

"Oh," Hermione said dumbly as she slid her hand down her blouse. "I think I will need a shower before we eat. I'd best ready the house and myself."

His fingers released her slowly as she slowly began to move. As her hand slipped from his fingertips, he whispered, "I don't think you have ever looked lovelier, Hermione."

"Thank you... Severus," she whispered as she left.