Chapter Three

Hermione landed in her parents' backyard, which was enclosed by a high hedge for just this purpose. She hurried to the back door, eager to see her parents and start on her research. Finding it locked, she lifted a nearby flower pot and groped for the spare key. As she let herself in the door, she called out, "Mum, Dad! Are you home?" Hermione stepped through the kitchen and dining area and made her way down the short hall to the sitting room, still calling out. No one was home. She approached the tiny table by the front door. Her mother always left her a note, even if she knew she wouldn't be there, in case of emergencies.

Dad's watching a polo match and I went shopping. I'll be home around 5:00pm. Hermione, please stay for dinner if you can.

Love Mum.

Hermione sighed; these notes always left her feeling guilty. How many notes had her mother written that had never been read? Hundreds, she imagined. She had meant to spend more time with her parents since their memories had been returned to them and they had come back to London. But there always seemed to be that one more project she had to work on during the weekends. It had been several months since she had come home. She flipped the note over and wrote on the back:

Mum, doing some research for a very special situation. If I'm not here when you get home, I went to St. Mungo's to talk to an important Healer. I will be spending the night here, but I can't promise dinner. Please, save me a plate, I might be late.

Love Hermione.

Dropping the note, she turned from the table and went quickly upstairs to her parents' study. Making herself comfortable at the desk, she switched the computer on and got to work. While she waited for the internet to load, she thought of her plan of action. She could work here for a couple of hours before heading to St. Mungo's around midday. She would try to make an appointment with Healer Leurante this afternoon. She might also be able to do some research in the library at the hospital while she waited. Hermione hoped he would be there on the weekend. If not, she would have to make some excuse to Minerva on Monday. She would need to leave straight after work to see him during normal business hours.

Hermione spent the next two hours searching John Doe lists and printing out information to take with her. She was rather hungry and thirsty when she finished, and so headed to the kitchen to raid her mother's fridge and pantry. She snapped open a bottle of pop and made a quick sandwich, which she crammed into a ziplock and stuffed into her bag.

She slipped from the house, locked the door and returned the key to the flowerpot before Apparating to St. Mungo's.

Hermione stated her business to the mannequin at the front of the old store building and entered through the wards into the busy lobby. She went to the desk and waited patiently to be acknowledged. The attending Welcome Witch finally looked up.

"Oh," she looked startled, "Professor Granger!" She stood. "Please, follow me. Healer Leurante told me to bring you as soon as you arrived. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's quite alright, but how did you know to expect me? I came on the off chance that Healer Leurante would even be here today." She had to jog to keep up with the woman's long strides.

"I believe he had received a message from an old friend informing him of your arrival," the witch explained. They came to a fine wooden door. The Welcome Witch rapped on the door twice and without waiting for an answer, turned the knob and pushed the door open, announcing "Professor Granger to see you, Healer." She then stood aside to allow Hermione entry into the office.

Before Hermione even cleared the door, a tall, thin, graying man was already on his feet, coming toward her, his hand held out in greeting. "Professor Granger, please come in. Thank you, Jeanette," he said, dismissing the receptionist.

The woman nodded and shut the door gently.

Healer Leurante stepped forward and took her outstretched hand, but instead of shaking it, he drew it up to place a tiny kiss on her knuckles. Hermione smiled at the chivalrous action. "Poppy did say you were a charmer," she observed wryly.

The older man chuckled, "She was special, that one. Please, have a seat, can I get you tea? I also have a variety of biscuits here."

Hermione nodded her acceptance, and the man made his way to a sideboard. She moved to sit on one of the comfortable looking chairs in front of his desk. While he was busying himself with preparing the tea, Hermione explained her presence. "Healer Leurante, I am hoping you can help me with a . . . delicate project." Hermione paused while she thought of the words to use to describe the situation. "Time is rather of the essence, I am so grateful you were able to make time for me today."

"Please, call me Chance," he said as he brought the tea tray to the desk.

"Then, you must call me Hermione." She smiled as he set his burden down in front of her. Hermione's stomach growled and she blushed. "I haven't gotten around to eating lunch, though I do have it here." She indicated her bag.

"Well, by all means, bring it out, and I will serve the tea and give you a plate of biscuits. There is surely time for a little chat while you eat. I admit, I was quite surprised to hear from Poppy. It's been quite some time. How is she doing?"

Hermione watched his face as he poured the tea and observed the same sort of wistful look on his face as she'd seen on Poppy's. "She's doing well. She seems to love her job, though she is quite stern with the children." She laughed.

He turned and smiled. "She was always stern. You should have seen her as a girl - studious and very serious, but quite beautiful." He sighed, starting to arrange some biscuits onto a small plate.

"How is your family?" Hermione asked, reminding him why they had parted.

He placed the tea and biscuits on a corner of the desk within Hermione's reach. A look of pride and happiness shone on his face at the opportunity to speak of his children. "Oh, my son and daughter are both married now. Chance lives in the United States. He's also a Healer. Darius, my daughter, lives in West Africa right now. She is working with a Wizarding native tribe. She's a Potions master such as yourself. She's learning quite a lot out there." He spoke of his children's accomplishments for a few minutes while Hermione ate her sandwich.

"How wonderful! I have always thought to visit there one day. And your wife..." she prompted as she took a sip of tea.

A sad look crossed his face, "Agatha died several years ago, Ratchets' disease. It was a long and difficult passing."

Hermione winced. She knew this disease had no cure in their world. It was a depletion of a witch's magic with side effects like Muggle Alzheimer's. "I'm so sorry to hear that," she sympathized.

Chance nodded and went to sit in his chair. "She was a wonderful woman. We had a good life." He looked up at Hermione. "But, there are always regrets with choices."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, there are," she said, unsure of whether to tell him that Poppy still might feel something for him.

Chance decided to get to the crux of the meeting. Hermione had finished her food. "Well, Professor Granger," he asked, "how can I help you? Are you ill? We cannot have one of our War Heroes not in the best of health."

Hermione smiled. "No, I'm not ill. Actually, I have a favor to ask. I need lessons in Occlumency."

"Occlumency?" He frowned sitting forward. "Is someone invading your mind without permission? Perhaps you need to report this to the Aurors' Office."

"No, sir, it isn't like that. I have reason to believe that this person is trying to communicate in the only way left to him. It is my belief that it is a Wizard trapped in a Muggle comatose ward."

The man paled and sat back in his chair. "Merlin," he said in shock.

"Every time he communicates, I get blinding headaches and black out. I believe the medication they have him on is keeping him quiet, making it easier for them to care for him. But because of this, he is unable to perform Legilimency to his usual ability."

"Do you know this man?" the Healer inquired.

Hermione, who had been taking a sip of tea, set the cup down. "Yes, I know who he is. Poppy assured me I could trust this goes no further than this office." She looked at him earnestly.

"Why the mystery? He must have a family who would be happy to have him back."

"Sir, he has no family, and he is quite famous in our world. He would never be given a moments peace to recover from his injuries."

"Famous, you say? Who is this man?" he asked curious.

"I would need a wand oath to revealed that at this time," she explained to him.

"It's that important, huh? Is he good famous or bad famous?" he asked, now exceedingly curious.

Hermione studied his face. She could tell he was a kind man. He had soft gentle eyes. His face was worn about his eyes and mouth from smiling, despite what he had evidently endured throughout course of his wife's illness. She felt she could trust him, but for the sake of Professor Snape, she would not reveal his identity without a wand oath. It was a simple form of binding magic, but would prevent this man from revealing Snape's name. "I assure you that he has been examined and cleared by the Wizengamot. However, I want to give him the peace he so richly deserves if we are able to wake him from the living death he seems to find himself trapped in. There are those who might still hold him responsible for certain war crimes. I want him strong and able to defend himself before he is revealed."

Healer Leurante stood, came around the desk and drew his wand. "I know your reputation, Hermione, and I trust Poppy."

Hermione stood and drew her wand, touching it to the tip of his wand. "Thank you, Chance," she answered. She cleared her mind and began the simple oath. "Will you do your utmost to help me save this man?"

"I will," he replied.

"Will you keep his identity confidential, to the very best of your ability?" she continued.

"I will," he repeated again never taking his eyes off hers.

She whispered the incantation, and a glow engulfed their wand hands, traveling up each of their arms to their hearts.

She stepped back and he returned to his chair. "You didn't require an Unbreakable Oath. Unusual," Chance ventured.

She smiled. "No Unbreakable Oath should ever be required in this new world of ours. I am sure that if you worked at it hard enough, you might be able to get around the phrase 'best of your ability', but to what end? After all, we will be helping a good man who has lived a tortured life."

"A spy from the war then," he mused. "It isn't hard to figure out who you're talking about, especially with your ties to Hogwarts." He allowed himself a moment of thought about the revelation. "This is astounding. I want to assure you that I have nothing but admiration for the man. He supplied us, secretly, with many special potions before the war. Without them, countless patients would have died. He worked tirelessly in all things required of him. I wonder how he survived what you saw happen to him. He must have had an antivenin, blood replenishers and strengtheners with him."

"I assumed he Disapparated and wasn't strong enough to concentrate on his destination." Hermione hypothesized. "He must have been found by Muggles and taken to a hospital. They, not knowing what was wrong, would have had no idea about the venom and the potions he had taken, and could not hope to revive him. He's been trapped in that comatose ward, for nearly the past five years." Hermione explained, and then she smirked. "I can tell you, he wasn't too happy to discover my identity." She laughed. "Harry, Ron, and I were quite a thorn in the poor man's side in our Hogwarts years."

Chance chortled, "I'm sure you were. If you have had enough tea, I will begin the instruction. I have given my schedule to another Healer this afternoon." He stood and indicated a couple of chairs facing each other in a corner of the room. There were plants around, all with soothing qualities.

Hermione recognized many of them. She stood, dusting the biscuit crumbs from her hands. "I'm ready," she affirmed. "I've read a lot of theory on this subject but haven't had the time to practice it much. I don't wish to block him, only narrow what I take in, and filter all the effects of the drugs that aren't allowing him to focus the signal. Can this be done?" she asked.

"Yes, certainly, but it may take a few weeks. I hope that you will be able to come several times a week," he said as they settled into the chair. They were close enough that their knees almost touched. He reached out to take her hands and rested them on her knees. "I am going to reach into your thoughts. I apologize if I see something you don't wish me to, but it's possible for me to stumble across just about anything once I'm in there."

Hermione giggled nervously, "I really have nothing to hide. I did have a very odd dream last night, the contents of which have never been even remotely a fantasy of mine." She blushed.

"What sort of dream?" he asked curious.

"Muggles have a fairytale about a sleeping princess who was awakened from an enchanted sleep by a kiss from her Prince Charming. I can assure you that I never fantasized, let alone dreamed, about kissing Professor Snape, while I was in his class." She laughed again. "I blame it on Poppy's potions and a lonely life," she confessed embarrassed.

Chance smiled at her. "Well, many of us live lonely lives. There is nothing to be ashamed of about that. Now then, let's get to work."

After several exhausting hours, Hermione stood. "Thank you, Chance, I am very grateful for the time you have given up for me."

"You're quite welcome. You're a fast learner, so perhaps only a few more sessions will be needed after all. You should have been a Healer, Hermione. It would have been a brilliant profession for you. You have a great deal of empathy. Perhaps one day, you will tire of teaching. If I am still here, come and see me," Chance instructed.

She smiled. "Maybe I will... one day." She gathered her bag and headed for the door. As she reached it, she turned. "This may not be my place, but I think Poppy is still quite taken with you. I know many years have passed, but you both might benefit from renewing your friendship. It's a place to start, sir." She saw his eyes widen and he nodded gently. She went out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

*****

When she returned to her parent's house, the light was on, and the door opened at her touch. "Mum, I'm back," she called out.

Her mother, looking like an older version of herself, came running into the kitchen and enveloped her in a strong hug. "Hermione, it's wonderful to see you! I'm so sorry I missed your arrival this morning." Her mother's voice was muffled by her hair.

Hermione breathed in the scent that was her mother. She had been so relieved to have been able to return her parents' memories after the war and to have been forgiven by them. It had taken some time, but now things were as they used to be. No more awkward silences enveloped them at times.

Her father appeared in the door and gave her a warm hug. "Hermione, my girl, look at you! You're different each time we see you. What a beautiful woman you're becoming."

"Becoming? Thanks, Dad," she groused with feigned irritation.

He laughed and hugged her again. "You'll always be my princess."

Her mother smiled at the byplay between her two favorite people. "Come, I have dinner waiting," she urged.

"Mum, I told you not to wait," Hermione admonished as she began peeling off her robes. She knew it was a good hour past their normal meal time.

"Nonsense. We love having dinner with you." They all took their customary places, and after grace was said, her mother started filling their plates.

"Wow, Mum, that's enough," Hermione said, stopping her mother from overfilling the plate.

"You're as thin as a rail, Hermione, and you look a bit peaky. You need to eat more. I know you - you get into your research and forget to eat or sleep," she scolded, the 'mother' in her coming to the fore.

Hermione laughed and flung a long curl of hair back over her shoulder, accepting the plate. "You do know me well. Poppy, the Medi-witch, is keeping me in line."

"And why do you need this person's help?" her dad asked pointedly.

Hermione squirmed like a child under their gaze. "I fainted a couple times."

"What!" her mother cried, "What's wrong? Did you go to St. Mungo's to be treated?" Her face was suddenly pale and her eyes wide. Her hand reached out to cover Hermione's.

"No, Mum." Hermione comforted her by squeezing her hand. "I promise nothing is wrong. Someone needs my help and they've had to contact me mentally. I went to St. Mungo's to ask the advice of a Healer on how to deal with the strength of their contacts, which often leaves me ill. Now, let's finish dinner, and then I'll explain it to you."

"Truly, Hermione?" Her dad asked, his eyes piercing hers as if he could read her mind. And sometimes she wasn't too sure that he couldn't.

"Truly," she assured him earnestly. "Now, let me tell you about some of my students. There's Hamish Barber... He never brews a potion without an incident. Why, only last week..."

*****

Later, as they sat before the fire, Hermione lay on the sofa with her head in her mum's lap. No matter how old she was, she loved having her mum stroke her hair. It was mutual, and she found she always regained some strength from her visits. She made a mental note to try to come more often.

"... Healer Leurante is helping me with the Occlumency. He'll teach me how to filter out the signals that make me sick. Then it'll be much easier to communicate with the Professor," she finished, explaining her afternoon trip to the hospital.

"Is this safe, Hermione?" Her mother sounded worried. "I thought once this war was over, and you were working at Hogwarts, you'd finally be safe."

"Nothing in life is completely risk-free, Mum. But I can say that this is safer than it is dangerous. Actually, the lessons I am taking will make it even more so. I really want to help him. He was never nice to us - in fact he was downright nasty - but he had his reasons. He worked very hard to see us through the war in one piece, and he gave so much of his life for us. I'll return this favor and see him home. If not back to his old nasty self, then at least to St. Mungo's, where he can be cared for by his own people."

Hermione's mum smiled down at her. "I would expect nothing more from you, my precious girl. You have always had such compassion for others, even when you were little."

"The Healer told me today that I have empathy for people and that I would have made a good Healer." She turned on her side to look into the flames, and her mother's hand caressed her shoulder and arm. After a time, her eyes closed and she slept.

Hermione woke in the middle of the night and found herself tucked in with a warm blanket, a thick pillow under her head, and the embers in the fire place still glowing bright. Her parents had retired to bed. She smiled. Just like old times, she thought. Since she had gotten too big to be carried to bed, they'd carefully tucked her in and left her on the couch. She sighed, snuggling into her blanket, and went back to sleep.

She spent the next day doing some more research on the computer and spending time with her parents. Mid-afternoon, she Apparated back to Hogwarts, having promised that she would return home the next weekend. Her lessons would last at least three months. Not too long after that, the year would be up, and she would be able to take the summer off to search for Professor Snape.

Hermione had just settled down to read a book on Occlumency when there was a disturbance in her wards, followed by a light knock on her door.

Hermione put her book aside and stood to open the door. She found Professor Sprout on the other side, looking quite uncomfortable. "Pomona, please come in," she invited warmly, indicating the room behind her.

The older woman hesitantly leaned into the room and looked about her. She had been here several times when Severus was occupying the place. Her eyes widened with surprise. "You've changed very little in here." She stepped into the room and her whole body relaxed.

"You've been in here before?" Hermione asked quickly, then answered her own question. "Of course you have; silly me. Minerva gave me permission to keep Professors Snape's books since we had the same profession. I liked how it was all arranged so I just never bothered to change it. I guess I felt a bit guilty at the end of the war. I should have been able to do more for him. His death has weighed on my mind." She shook herself mentally. "Come, sit. I will bring you up to date on what I've been up to this weekend. Let me get some tea."

Hermione made some tea and set out a plate of chocolate biscuits. She watched with amusement as Pomona placed four sugar cubes into her tea and took several chocolate biscuits, eating one right away. After explaining her activities for the weekend, Hermione decided to broach a topic she had been dying of curiosity about. "Forgive me, but I never saw Professor Snape as a man who would have a mother figure here. I'm quite surprised by your relationship."

Pomona looked at her with that motherly kindness. "Well, it started quite by accident. Severus was eleven. I think James Potter and Sirius Black took a strong dislike to him immediately because he was friends with Lily. He'd often take refuge in my green houses. A number of times it was necessary for me to use my wand to clean him up a bit after being doused in various nasty substances. I saw right away that he was very intelligent, so I taught him all about my plants. He took to Herbology quite easily, and in classes here inside the castle, he excelled in Potions. It all works together. I think that's why he was so disappointed in Mr. Longbottom. The boy had such a gift for Herbology, yet couldn't brew to save his own life."

"Well that makes more sense now. He was always so hard on Neville." Hermione laughed.

Pomona laughed with her. "That boy is doing just fine despite his shortcomings. He's got quite a store of his own now, and he still comes to visit. It's been nice to have his company since Severus has been gone." Her eyes pooled with tears. "Have you heard from him?"

"No, but it's been on purpose. I've been able to Occlude him. I expect he'll be quite angry, but I couldn't risk him making me ill again," she explained. Pomona asked her some more questions pertaining to her lessons and research she had undertaken.

The Herbology Professor finally stood. She looked around the room again and then smiled at Hermione. "He will be pleased to know his books are well taken care of. Please give him my love. I'm so afraid of what he has had to endure. With all the pain he went through in those last years of the war, he was often reluctant to come see me. I think he was ashamed at the turn his life had taken."

"I'll do my very best to bring him home, Pomona," she said earnestly as she saw the older woman to the door.

"Oh, I know you will, Hermione," Pomona answered kindly. "I can think of no one else I would trust more with this job, except for Minerva, and we both know she's not up to it these days. We really should tell her soon. She would be quite hurt if we didn't." Hermione nodded her agreement.

The younger witch was surprised when the stout woman grabbed her in a tight, strong bear hug. Then she turned away and left, sniffling into a grubby handkerchief she had produced from her robe pocket. Hermione smiled after her fondly.

---

I've had a number of women who have volunteered to help me beta. I want to thank them for their work, Lydia, Susanne my Brit-picker, and Nicole.

I still needed a person well versed in punctuation. Gabby has stepped in and filled this position.

I thank you so very much, Gabby, for your help. I hope that you will be able to find time, in your busy life, to continue doing the beta work on this story.