Two

At the end of January, Neville had the promised persimmon tree...two actually; and Hagrid had three Nigerian-dwarfed goats. They were full-grown but smaller than most, which according to her calculations was exactly what she needed. Hermione trudged through the snow every morning and evening. The goats were housed in a cozy little stable Hagrid had built for them.

She took the goats some hay, grain and a few persimmons for meals. Only one goat received the fruit though. She wanted to concentrate on one goat as much as possible for best results.

Within two weeks, Hermione knew her theory was correct. The poor little goat...which Hagrid had named Spot...was getting sick. She would readily eat the proffered fruit, but her digestive system was shutting down. The fruit was very astringent and unripe. The goat still had its daily rations of proper nutrients...she only added the fruit to its meal.

By the end of March, the goat was so ill Hagrid said he would have to put Spot down if she didn't improve. That was enough for Hermione. She told Hagrid she would do a bit of magic and see if she couldn't cure the little creature.

Hermione waited until the goat was sedated with a simple potion before pointing her wand at the creature. "Accio Bezoar." The goat made a retching noise, and a small, shriveled stone flew out of the goat's mouth and into her hand. It glistened against the winter sun. She told Hagrid the goat would be fine, and he could do whatever he liked with the goats. Her experiment was done. Hopefully, this was all she would need.

The dungeons were warm compared to the chill outside. It was late in the evening, and most students were either in the library or in their common rooms. Hermione wanted to study, but this potion was important...Snape's life depended upon it. She couldn't afford to wait until the next new moon. So far her schedules were accurate.

Professor Slughorn was in the lab, and he glanced up at her when she entered. She smiled at him and pulled her equipment onto a table, then got to work. She didn't want to tell him yet, not until she was sure it was going to work. Hermione chopped the dragon liver very precisely with her silver-bladed knife and then seeded the pomegranate, sorting the seeds by size.

She lit her cauldron and added seven of the large chicken eggs full of antibodies. The key was to keep the egg yolks whole. She couldn't let them break, or they would be useless. She carefully dropped in the bezoar after the eggs had begun to firm up. Hermione wanted the bezoar to absorb all the magical antibodies from the eggs before she added anything else. Slowly she stirred seven times clockwise, then three counter-clockwise. The potion was snapping, just as it had when she had been in the testing stages. She was adding more ingredients as she carefully reviewed her notes.

Slughorn shuffled up to inspect her work. By now it was past curfew, but she had to get the potion to its simmering stage before she could leave. He didn't seem to mind or notice how late it was. He ambled around the worktable ticking off the ingredients she had splayed across the surface.

"Dragon liver, good." Slughorn seemed to be talking to himself. "Pomegranates for strength, Scurvy grass . . . ah, yes. You did say Professor Snape was looking sickly; this is high in vitamin C. Clever girl. Let's see, what else? Moondew, Flobberworm mucus, and what's that you're working on now, my dear?"

Hermione was crushing some Moly with a mortar and pestle. The flowers were white, but as she pressed them against their black stems, a grey paste formed. She showed him.

"Oho, Miss Granger, you seem to have this well thought out. Moly is wonderful for protecting oneself against the Dark Arts. I would only suggest two more items to add to your potion..."

"I only had Re'em blood left on my list," Hermione said, cutting him off in alarm. "It was the last ingredient, to be added during the appropriate moon phase. I've been over this list a million times. What else am I missing?" Hermione was panicking. "Do we even have the ingredient in stock? I mean, the Re'em blood was the rarest ingredient on the list, and I had to spend all the money in my Gringotts account to just buy enough!"

"Calm down, Miss Granger," Slughorn soothed. "You do not need to add it tonight. I believe the missing ingredient should be added at the very end, during the last quarter of the moon phase. Otherwise, it will be too strong and overpower your potion.

"Besides, I won't let you mess this up. You are smart enough to figure it out. After all, we are making history here. If it works, that is."

Slughorn had a glint in his eye that looked like hunger. She was sure he was envisioning "their" success in the Daily Prophet, with publications and interviewers. He would love that, wouldn't he? All she cared about was making sure Snape was safe and happy.

"Now my dear, finish up for tonight, then sleep on it. I'm sure it will strike you between the eyes before you need to add it. I don't think we have any in stock, but if you figure it out with enough time, you should be able to procure the ingredient without much trouble."

The whole way up to Gryffindor Tower, she berated herself for missing something. What was she not remembering that might save Professor Snape? Would he jeer at her if he were conscious because she couldn't figure out how to save him?

It was the following Sunday, and Hermione was having tea with Professor McGonagall. The older witch was venting about the difficulties of running a school and teaching Transfiguration simultaneously. She was at her wits' end and was thankful she had someone to talk with on Sunday afternoons. Subtly, the subject changed, and the headmistress was praising Hermione for her efforts and ability with Potions. The conversation turned to visiting Snape himself. McGonagall hadn't been to see him for quite some time, so they both decided to visit him straight away. They used the Floo powder in the study and came out in St. Mungo's visitor's entrance. They led themselves to his deserted corridor and sat beside his bed. His state hadn't changed at all. Hermione didn't know if that was good or bad.

It was only a little awkward talking to Snape with McGonagall present, but the woman gave her a rare smile when she risked a glance. She told him about starting the potion and explained the situation. She confessed she hadn't yet figured out the final ingredient, but promised she was close to finding a cure.

Unexpectedly, McGonagall quietly muttered apologies to her colleague, repeatedly like a rosary. Regret emanated from McGonagall as she cried into her hands. Hermione gently patted her on the back, then her own regret and sorrow for the whole dammed situation overcame her, and she hugged the woman and they wept together. As the crying slowed to a stop, Hermione's vigor returned, as well as a renewed determination to figure this out. Through their crying, the relationship shifted; they had shared something special, and they were bonded. McGonagall insisted Hermione refer to her as Minerva from then on, when appropriate.

As they were walking down the hallway to the fireplaces, Minerva said, "This reminds me of when the Basilisk had petrified you in your second year. I had felt so helpless and partially responsible, but I imagine that had something to do with survivor's guilt. Thankfully, we had been able to restore all of you with that Mandrake Draught. I had really thought it had been the end of Hogwarts."

Hermione remembered the incident quite well. She had spent a long time in the hospital wing that year, first her mix up with the Polyjuice Potion, then when she had been Petrified. Perhaps that was why she felt so close to Professor Snape. She knew, to some degree, what it was like to be stuck in limbo. She had a hazy memory of being in a solid state, but she vaguely remembered colors and some sounds. She shuddered mentally, remembering she could still be in that same state if it weren't for the wonderful Mandrake Restorative Draught.

The Mandrakes! That was it. She needed Mandrakes in her potion. They were her lacking ingredient. She practically skipped the rest of the way to the Floo. Minerva looked a little startled, but Hermione rapidly explained her discovery.

They Flooed back into the Headmistress' study. Hermione excused herself and ran down to the greenhouses through the late winter snow. She found Neville in Greenhouse One. He was cleaning up some spilled bags of soil. She frantically explained what she needed, and Neville understood. He led her into Greenhouse Three, where the Mandrakes were potted. The dark green leaves quivered occasionally, and the pretty, creamy-purple flowers seemed to nod at her. They were in their teenage years, apparently, as the greenhouse looked disheveled like someone had partied heavily the night before.

She nudged a beer bottle with her foot. Neville explained they had a new species this year, one that was nearly extinct and rare, only located in Turkey and parts of Iran. The Mandragora turcomanica had fruit, and within a few weeks they would be ripe. They were what she was looking for. He would take extra care and give her top picks when they were ready. Hermione went to bed with a huge burden lifted off of her. She was going to save Snape. She just knew it.

Hermione stood in front of the cauldron. The final ingredients she needed were the Mandrake fruits. Neville came shuffling in with them a moment later, and Hermione took the yellow-orange fruits. They somewhat resembled tomatoes.

She and Slughorn had agreed it was best to juice them into the potion so they weren't too strong. She carefully put a sieve over the cauldron and used her wand to fully squeeze the fruit. Bright yellow juice and large white, oval seeds dropped into the sieve. As soon as the juice met with the potion, the whole creation changed.

The potion, which had been a deep red, immediately turned to an acid green, and the smell was fragrant, like cherry blossoms. Large billows of white smoke issued out of the cauldron, and Hermione had to pull back. She wasn't sure how the vapors would affect her. She gave it a seven-minute stir counter-clockwise.

"Miss Granger, this is wonderful!" Slughorn tittered. "Why, this could revolutionize antidotes as we know them! It would even put the Wiggenweld Potion to shame!"

Slughorn had that fame-hungry look in his watery eyes. His whole being was jiggling uncontrollably as he literally danced around the room. Minerva entered the room, and Slughorn gathered her up into his arms and waltzed with her across the lab. Oddly enough, she blushed and giggled like a fourth-year. Neville bowed and proffered an arm. Hermione took it and danced with Neville in celebration, or at least they tried, but he trampled her poor feet.

That last week went by much too slowly. Hermione had to let the potion rest until the new moon arrived. Minerva and Slughorn accompanied her to St. Mungo's. She'd been waiting for this day for almost an entire year. But there was a process...always a process. She had the bezoar, which she'd pulled out of the potion once it was completed, and that was the first step. She had to magically guide it down his throat to keep it from falling through the holes in his neck. Once she was sure it was in his stomach, she waited. Nothing happened, as Hermione expected. It was going to take time. But she had permission from Minerva to return everyday and give him a dose of the acid-green antidote.

By the end of the first week, she saw his color had returned. Gone was the jaundiced tinge to his usual pale skin. She talked to him every time she gave him a dose. A few days later she was able to use some dittany on his neck. The skin healed, and she gave him a few potions from Madam Pomfrey to heal the internal neck injuries. Then she gave him the Blood-Replenishing Potions.

Two weeks into the treatment, she saw blood coursing through his veins, and his body started digesting nutrients. She mended hard feelings between Healer Pye and herself, and he ordered a few witches to change Snape's cot sheets, bedpan and clothes and to run routine checks on him.

Snape began to look like his old self. At every visit Hermione would delicately lather and shave his growing stubble. She trimmed his shoulder-length hair, which was full of split ends, and cleaned under his fingernails, trimming them too. His black lashes were long. Why did men always have long eyelashes? The skin no longer sagged on his body but was living and flushed. His skin, once pasty, was now a beautiful pale, contrasting with his raven locks.

Hermione had wanted to care for him all by herself, but her N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching, and she needed to be in class. Evening study at his side became a normal routine, as Minerva let her use her the Floo every day. Hermione wanted to be there if he needed anything. She was somewhat unnerved when she realized the obsession she'd formed around his health. Remembering her old professor and his personality, she realized he would most likely be upset when he awoke, but a part of her wanted to prove that theory wrong. She had worked so hard to save his life, and she wanted to hear his praise. From her first day in his class, she'd been yearning to hear a positive remark from him. And although Minerva, Slughorn and other leading officials in the Wizarding world had given her an abundance of praise, she really wanted to hear a "thank you" from the sleeping man beside her. He had been so brave and heroic to face Voldemort by himself, and she was sure he, of all people, deserved the best treatment possible...and her standards were high.

As Hermione exited the Great Hall from her Arithmancy N.E.W.T., Minerva rushed in and pulled her aside. Minerva clapped her hands together and spoke in a loud whisper.

"He's just awakened. I was visiting him during my lunch hour, and he began to stir." Minerva was leading Hermione to her study. "Then I gave him an Invigoration Draught I found sitting on the bedside table. After a few minutes he was awake. He gave me a smirk, and oh, it was wonderful. He couldn't speak yet, but he was regaining his strength. I told him I'd return."

"Did you tell him anything about the antidote?" Hermione asked.

"No, no. I will leave that for you. If it weren't for you, he would still be in that terrible state. You deserve to tell him," she said as they reached the winding staircase to her office.

Now that she was about to face him, Hermione was nervous. What would he say? What should she say? There was only one-way to find out. She armed herself with some Gryffindor courage, marched over to the fireplace and threw in a pinch of Floo powder. Minerva appeared in the fireplace only a moment behind her, and they solemnly walked down to his room. Hermione's legs were like jelly as she approached his door. With a shaky hand she gave a curt knock and opened the door.

Snape was sleeping when she walked in. She heard the door close behind her; Minerva wasn't with her. Hermione hadn't thought she was going to face him alone! She'd spent an awful lot of time alone with him as of late, but now she was getting cold feet. Where had her courage gone? Perhaps she'd left it sitting outside the door with Minerva. Wherever she'd left it, she didn't have time to find more: Snape was stirring. He opened his heavy eyes and turned his head as she sat down beside him. The best she could do was to give him a weak smile.

He scowled.

What more could she have expected?

"Miss Granger? What is the meaning of this?" his voice was hoarse and gritty. "I was expecting Professor McGonagall. How have you managed to stick your nose into my affairs?"

This was going to be harder than she'd thought. She forced herself to look directly into his eyes as she explained. She told him everything from when she found him in the Shrieking Shack to almost killing a goat. How she spent her entire seventh year focused on antidotes and anti-venoms. How she was now so obsessed with Potions she had applied to only Potion Academies to further her education. She spoke of her visits to his bedside, her fights with the Healers. Hermione explained the Order of Merlin medal beside his bed. She told him what she had done with his memories to verify he was alive when she'd found him a year ago in a sticky puddle of his own blood. She told him Nagini was dead and explained how they'd won the war over Voldemort.

Hermione's voice was dry and monotone, and her tongue felt thick and spongy. The black, expressionless eyes bore into hers, and he spoke not a word while she explained herself, nor did he make any facial expressions. She felt like a child confessing to the crime of stealing a piece of candy. He was so much bigger than her, even though he had, when sickly, appeared so small. When she finished talking, he continued to stare at her, and she ruefully dropped her eyes to her lap.

He spoke, but it was quiet and menacing. "How dare you assume I wanted to live? I had been looking forward to death for years, and it was a relief to let myself bleed out on that dirty floor. You are still the know-it-all you were before the war, sticking your bushy head into business you ought not to tamper with. I was immensely enjoying my state of nonexistence. The rest of the world seemed to be fine with the fact I'd died! Why weren't you? I thought you were smarter than that, Miss Granger, but you've proven again you're just a selfish little chit. You have no business tampering with Potions. Last time I checked you just parroted textbook information to the great annoyance of all my colleagues and myself. You have no concept of real life, as proven by your actions to save my life.

"If I had wanted to stay alive, do you think I wouldn't have tried to prevent the venom from working in the first place? I am a Potions master after all; I had antidotes and anti-venoms, Miss Granger, that would have negated any venom if taken before being bitten. I was well aware of the risks, and I took the option best suited to my wants...doing absolutely nothing. Now I want you to leave. And I can only hope I am never forced to look upon your countenance ever again. You've caused me more pain than I can express. Now get out!"

He never raised his voice, thankfully. She didn't want Minerva to hear what he had said. She stood slowly and forced back the tears. It wouldn't do to have Minerva question her.

Minerva was waiting outside the door. Putting on the most cheerful smile she could muster, Hermione told Minerva that Snape wanted to see her. It wasn't a lie. As soon as the door clicked closed, she jogged to the entrance. She did not want to go back to Hogwarts. She was finished with her N.E.W.T.s. She would just leave school a few days early. All her belongings were there, but if she packed, Minerva would catch her in the middle of it. She needed a place to hide for a bit. The only place she had left...her childhood home. Her tears were coming down in earnest now. She found a secluded alley and turned on the spot. Tears blurred her vision as the street swirled around her.

The next week went by in a haze of crying and incoherent screaming. Then she received an owl from a school in the United States. DuPont Potions Academy was hidden in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. Hermione had applied to several schools, and this was her first acceptance letter. It was also one of the top schools in the world for Potions. She was ready to turn them down after telling herself she was an idiot for trying to pursue Potions. Snape had belittled her, and he was right. She was a know-it-all, and she didn't need to further her education and prove herself. She should probably get a real job somewhere and keep a low profile or, at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

As she was drafting her respectful regrets to DuPont, she heard a heavy pounding on her front door. Hermione tentatively opened it only to find Minerva standing on her porch with a thin-lipped expression.

"Really, Hermione, you know better than to sulk," she admonished.

As Hermione opened the door all the way, the older witch handed her a crisp-looking envelope. When Hermione opened it, she found she had received an 'O' for 'Outstanding' on all of her exams. She looked up, and Minerva was giving her a full smile. Hermione smiled back despite herself, before her mind returned to its pity party.

Minerva noticed. "I don't know what Severus Snape said to you . . . but I know him, and you mustn't take to heart what his sharp tongue dishes out. He has many walls and layers. And what you did for him...saving his life...broke down those barriers. You were in his personal space, and the only way he knows to protect himself is through harsh words and deep scowls."

Hermione didn't reply, but she listened. She plopped on the couch, and Minerva sat beside her. They were quiet for some time as Hermione mulled over her options.

"You should go to DuPont," Minerva said unexpectedly.

"How did you..." Hermione started.

"As Headmistress, I received a copy of your acceptance letter for my own records," she explained quietly.

"I was about to send them my letter of regret," Hermione replied. "They have a limited number of seats. I've always wanted to go to the States, but Professor Snape was right; I've no business going into Potions. In fact, I don't think I would do well furthering my education. I might just take a little break from everything right now."

"Listen to me, Hermione. You are brilliant, and you remind me of myself when I was younger. I'd hate for you to short-change yourself. There is so much you could do for the world if you took this opportunity at DuPont. If you could create a potion to bring back someone from a non-living state at your age, then your possibilities are limitless. You have dreams, don't you? What are they?" Minerva said.

"I used to have dreams of so many things, but they've been in flux. I think I would be happy doing anything really. Knowledge is my staple in life. As long as I have a job where I can keep growing intellectually, I think I can adjust to adult life.

"But currently, I dream of being a Potions mistress. I want to create and explore. I had so much fun working on the potion. I think that's what stings the most, that I was so happy making the antidote for him, and yet he still rejected it . . . rejected me. He's never been happy with my work, ever. I've always been and always will be an over-achiever to him. A part of me wants to quit, and I've been listening to that side for the past week. But the other half wants to prove him wrong. And I usually listen to that side too. It's been a struggle to stay petulant and not seek out and prove myself. But I don't think I can keep up the charade much longer...even to myself."

Minerva leaned over and gave her a hug. "You have so much left to prove, not only to yourself but to the world. Forget what Severus said to you, dear. Focus on what matters to you."

Severus sat in a faded orange moth-eaten armchair at Spinner's End. The July heat was stifling in the dusty hovel he'd once called home. He detested the place. Minerva had insisted on stopping by to see how he was doing. He'd been "alive" for five minutes, and she was already all over him. It was understandable; the last time he'd properly seen Minerva she'd tried to kill him in a duel before he had fled from the castle. Throughout his year as Headmaster, he'd given her plenty of hints to discover his true allegiances but she'd never caught on. Now that she knew the truth, he was overjoyed at having one true friend back. She was the last of her kind, a firm anchor in his life. She'd always been fair with him, both as a student and then as a colleague. Even when she hated him for murdering Dumbledore, she was just in all of her dealings with him. It was wonderful to see her fighting internally, struggling against what felt natural...liking him. She attracted oddities, and he was the star of her collection.

A faint crack sounded down the street. She would be here momentarily. There was no point in cleaning up the place. He wouldn't stay here much longer; too many memories filled the empty space. Most houses in the neighborhood were abandoned, decrepit shells mimicking the families that had once lived within them. He lowered the wards as he opened the door and saw she was as prim as ever. Her lips formed a tight line across her wrinkled face, but her eyes were soft and searching, as if reassuring herself he was alive each time she looked upon his features.

"Let me see your wounds, Severus," she said as a way of greeting.

He peeled back the collar of his robes and showed her the two red scars, clashing with his alabaster skin. The wounds were healed, but the scars were still plainly visible. Healer Pye assured him they would eventually fade to a silvery color like Arthur Weasley's.

He invited her into the sitting room, and she immediately cleaned the loveseat and the surrounding area. She cast a cooling charm on the room and produced a tea tray. He settled back into the armchair, and plumes of dust curled around him as he watched her make the tea. Minerva handed him a cup of tea, and he was relieved that she remembered exactly how he liked it.

"I'm stepping down as Headmistress, Severus. The Board wants you to replace me. I told them I was only presiding until you were healed. They are holding to their promise, and I to mine, if you want the position." She placed her cup on the table between them.

It would be nice to have a job. He'd always considered Hogwarts his home, and it would be interesting to run the school without war motives pushing him in all directions. The duties as Headmaster had been enjoyable last time. But he would have to face everyone again, to see them look doubtful whenever he passed by. How many people believed he was truly innocent? Would the staff accept him? What about the students or their parents? Surely they would reject the idea of Severus Snape, former Death Eater, as Headmaster after what happened the last time he'd held the position; a war had broken out. It was ridiculous that the Board of Governors would keep their promise and let him mold young minds.

Minerva must have sensed his doubts because she spoke up. "The world knows you're innocent. It's been over a year since then, and now that everything is 'back to normal' in the Wizarding world, most families are willing to let you teach. I'm sure very few will oppose you as Headmaster. I'll be there to help you as well. It wouldn't be Hogwarts without you, Severus."

What else was he to do with his life? It was in shambles now that there was no motivation. No Lily. She was gone. He'd lived his life for her...expecting to die for her. He'd repaid his debt. But would she care for him now? There was no tie between them any longer, nothing pulling him towards an ultimate end. He had no reason to live, only reason to die, to see her again.

He'd never been one to condone suicide. If there was a purpose to life, one should find it, and Minerva had dropped his at his feet. He could manage over Hogwarts. It was something he loved, and it was sure to keep him busy enough to keep his mind off his lost love.