Part the First

Part The First – Advent Hymn

Light of those whose dreary dwelling borders on the shades of death,

Come, and by thy love's revealing dissipate the clouds beneath.

The beginning of November blew in like a screeching hippogriff, dropping temperatures down into the negative numbers and limning the windows with hoary frost even before the Christmas decs were up in the shops. Squinting against the biting wind, Hermione cast a Warming Charm over herself and Rose as they made their way through Diagon Alley. She needn't have bothered. Rose was so excited and keyed up, she was radiating body heat enough for the both of them.

Hermione had promised Rose they could go shopping that day to catch post-Samhaim bargains for the growing Weasley family, but she had waited until they arrived to reveal the true purpose for coming to Wizarding London that day. It was a little early, strictly speaking, but Rose's school reports had been so stellar that one of her Christmas gifts that year was to be her first wand. Upon hearing this, Rose was transported, and even though she tried her best to remain level-headed and grownup about the entire thing, her anticipation was impossible to contain.

Diagon Alley was heaving that day, and more than once they'd met with throngs of people and miles of queues. In the years after the war, the district had grown back bigger and better than ever. As always, Hermione's heart beat a little faster when she was here, surrounded by magic, feeling part of something unique and special and truly wonderful. She envied Rose, just at the beginning of her own magical journey toward becoming the powerful witch Hermione suspected her to be. Rose's first wand would be the first stepping stone on the path of that journey.

Ollivander's was packed, so Rose reluctantly agreed with Hermione's suggestion that they grab lunch and return a little later in the afternoon, when the crowds were thinner. They jostled along, making their way toward Fred and George's shop toward the far end of the Alley. After stopping by and saying hello to her uncles, they finally found a small cafe with one tiny table available, and were enjoying their tea and scones when, outside the window, Hermione saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to pinpoint the source of the light, Rose gasped, "Mum, oh, Mum, he's hexing him! Make him stop!" And just like that, Rose Granger jumped out of her chair and was out the door and running toward trouble, shouting at someone out of Hermione's line of sight.

"Rose!" Hermione cried, but a crowd outside blocked her view. She dashed out of the cafe just in time to see her daughter galloping toward Knockturn Alley, waving her arms.

Her heart in her throat, Hermione raced down the alley, calling her daughter's name and threatening all sorts of retribution if she didn't stop running and come back here now, Rose, I mean it! but she was losing the race, and the crowd seemed almost of a mind to slow her down.

Panting, Hermione was just about to start blasting people out of the way when she turned the corner and came upon her daughter, lying on the ground, trying to shield something or someone with her small body. "Rose! Oh, gods, Rose!" she screamed, and just as a grubby man in a shabby, filthy robe reached for her daughter, Hermione shrieked, "Touch one hair on her head and you'll be buttoning your fly with your teeth, you oik!"

The man, who reminded her of a hyena, flashed a rotten, grey-toothed smile in the light. "You and whose army, witch!" He laughed. "He got what he deserved, and if I can't get no satisfaction from that, I reckon she'll do."

He reached for Rose, but a spell flew from Hermione's lips before she gave it conscious thought. Rose cried out as the hex sliced through the air directly over her head, then screamed as a smoking hand landed by her side. The man's screams joined her daughter's. Hermione thought she could hear the entire alley screaming. She realised if she didn't get out of there quickly, the Aurors would show up and poor Harry would be spending the evening at the Ministry trying to talk the Wizengamot out of putting her in Azkaban.

"Rose, come here now!" Hermione bellowed. She pointed her wand at the man, who was whimpering and clutching the stump where his hand had been. "If I were you I'd get the hell out of here now, mister. I'd say you're going to need your remaining hand tonight, seeing as you're not going to get any satisfaction out of either my daughter or that poor sod you were trying to rape."

Evidently chummy was smarter than he first appeared, because he stumbled away, but not before snatching up his severed hand and loping off back down Knockturn Alley, looking furtively over his shoulder. A cluster of witches and wizards, attracted by the commotion, watched Hermione with slitted, unreadable eyes. She turned, wand at the ready and hissed, "Anyone else got a problem?" Apparently, no one did, and one by one they drifted away like dirty smoke.

Hermione flew to her daughter's side and grasped her arms. "Rose, what in Merlin's name were you doing?" She looked into her daughter's frightened eyes. "Knockturn Alley is dangerous, Rose, you know that! What were you-"

"I couldn't let that man hurt him, Mum. He was defenseless! You've always said we have to protect those whose can't protect themselves!" Rose was crying now, her adrenaline-fueled bravery dissipating, leaving behind only a frightened ten-year-old. She pointed at the still figure on the ground. "He was trying to get away from that man, but the man stunned him and was trying to take off his clothes." Rose coloured slightly. She may have been precocious enough to know about the birds and the bees, but she was also old enough to understand wrong when she saw it. She glanced down at the fallen man. "I don't think he wanted that man to – to touch him."

"No, I'm sure he didn't, Rose," Hermione said, and together they peered down at the unconscious man. He was dressed in a threadbare robe, and she gasped at his face. It was covered in bruises and contusions; this man had been pummeled before Rose set out to rescue him.

Something about the physique and the shape of the swollen face rang a bell in Hermione. She leaned in closer, wrinkling her nose at the odour of unwashed body and the unpleasant stink of sex musk. Oh gods. Either he'd already been raped, or he was a prostitute down on his luck. Either way, she had to get him out of the cold and into St. Mungo's. He was unconscious, in a part of Knockturn Alley even its own denizens avoided. Suddenly Hermione felt like she and Rose were two very small kittens in a basket full of vipers.

As she looked more closely, she noticed an unmistakable cuff around his wrist. A magic-suppression cuff; one that had been given to several Death Eaters after the war to ensure that their magical signature could be blocked, up to and including –

"Shite!" Quickly, Hermione summoned her Patronus. "Harry, come to Knockturn Alley, Cabbage Row, right now. It's an emergency!"

Hastily, she cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, Rose and the unconscious man. Groping blindly for her daughter, she felt Rose's hand clutch at hers. "Mum-what's going on?" Her voice sounded very small.

"Nothing we can do anything about until your Uncle Harry comes, darling," Hermione said, in her most brisk, Mum-knows-best voice. "But don't worry, Rose, you did a good thing."

Rose gave her mother's hand a reassuring squeeze. In a hushed voice, she asked, "Do you know this wizard, Mum?"

Before Hermione could answer that question - and it was quite a question - Harry Apparated directly in front of them, wand at the ready, in full Auror mode. "Hermione?" he called, jumping as the little trio appeared in the corner. "Jeez, you scared the crap out of me!" He peered into the growing shadows.

"Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," Harry said, his eyes still sweeping the Alley cautiously.

"I have," she said, and pointed down at the unconscious man.

Harry's eyes widened. "Merlin's y-fronts," he muttered, kneeling beside the man in rags. "I can't believe he's come to this."

"It is Snape, isn't it, Harry? I'm not going mad, am I?" Hermione said, shivering.

"It is. He's not been seen for absolutely ages, but no one was exactly looking for him, you know?"

"Well, they should have been!" Hermione declared, her anger rising. "Is this the best Wizarding Britain can do? Is this how they treat their heroes?" Impulsively, she pulled out her wand. "Hold on to me, Rose." With a wave of her wand, Hermione gently elevated the unconscious Snape. She awkwardly grasped one of his ankles with her wand hand.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Harry said, looking at his friend a little wildly. "He needs to be taken-"

"Meet me at home," Hermione replied, then spun away with Rose and her former professor in tow.

"-to hospital, Hermione!"

Harry arrived seconds behind her, but in spite of his words, he helped her maneuver the levitated Snape to the floor of her small front room. Hermione turned to her wide-eyed daughter. "Rose, run a bath. Make the water hot, but not too hot, and bring me the healing salve and the medicated soap and plenty of large towels."

"Yes, Mum," Rose replied, nodding, and flew up to the bathroom. Shortly they could hear water running.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Examining him for broken bones." She gingerly pushed Snape's hair off of his face. He moaned softly as her hands brushed over a particularly nasty bruise, and she winced. Grimly, she added, "I'm going to try to take care of this man, seeing as no one else has bothered."

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, stop. You-you just can't kidnap him and bring him home like a stray dog! You know how prideful he is-"

"Oh really? The last I heard of Severus Snape, he was being told by the grateful Ministry of Magic that he wouldn't have to go to Azkaban, and that, out of generosity, he would only have to wear a magic-suppression cuff for a mere fifteen years." She turned on him. "Besides, you told me he was working at an apothecary."

Harry made a face. "I thought he was! I mean, I hadn't checked up on him, or anything, but - you get busy, you know, and I sort of didn't think about it, and then Ginny got pregnant and I just –"

It was on the tip of Hermione's tongue to say, "You just couldn't be arsed to help out the one person you literally owe your life," but she remained silent. She could not truly berate Harry for something she had not done, either.

She sighed. "I guess we both of us are guilty of abandoning him." Harry nodded, unable to defend himself any more than could she. Hermione squared her shoulders, her mind made up. "Well, I'm not going to dump him off to St. Mungo's. They'll just patch him up and send him out into the cold. It's very obvious he's been living on the street."

Alarmed, Harry said, "What are you going to do, Hermione? I wasn't kidding before. He's not a stray; he's a proud man. If he'd wanted help, he knew he could ask for it. It's very clear he didn't want help, and if I was a betting wizard, I'd say he doesn't want it now."

"I know. And yes, he's not going to thank me when he wakes up, but at least I can send him on his way with clean clothes and a hot bath and food." Maybe she'd been as guilty as Harry of not giving Severus Snape much thought, but he was here now, and she wasn't going to let him leave until he was well enough to cope. She wouldn't just turf him out to be at the mercy of scum like that rapist. Not on her watch.

Rose came into the room, her large blue eyes troubled. "The bath is ready, Mum. And I've made up the spare bedroom." She looked from her mother to her Uncle Harry. "He's so pitiful, Mum. You are going to help him, aren't you?" Her sweet blue eyes were swimming with tears. "I feel so sorry for him."

Harry looked at Hermione for a long moment, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, hell." He started for the bath. "Come on, Hermione, let's get your stray cleaned up."

Several hours, two Pain Potions and one Dreamless Sleep Draught later, Hermione, Harry and Rose stood by as their guest slumbered peacefully in bed. It had taken four changes of bath water to get the man clean, but Hermione didn't believe Cleansing charms did the work of good old fashioned soap and water when faced with this much filth. She and Harry had worked in tandem, trying to be as gentle as possible. Snape was thin to the point of emaciation, and his dried, weathered skin spoke of malnutrition, dehydration, and despair.

Later, as the Sleeping Draught went to work and Snape's unconsciousness gradually gave way to a healing sleep, Hermione healed his bruises and took the opportunity to examine him thoroughly. The diagnostic revealed he'd been sexually assaulted as well as beaten. Whatever his now one-handed associate had claimed he'd paid for, he'd not been satisfied with, and taken by force. Hermione could tell it wasn't consensual.

Tears welled in her eyes, and in spite of her extensive training her hands shook as she uttered the Healing spells and chants. "You didn't deserve this," she said, quietly, to the sleeping wizard. Snape was either deeply unconscious or very good at pretending, but when his eyes fluttered open, he looked at Hermione blankly, clearly not recognising her.

Thinking it wasn't the most perfect moment for a tearful (or not) reunion, Hermione gently commanded, "Drink this, Mr. Snape," and held his head as she poured the extra-strength potions in his mouth. He watched her with distrustful bloodshot eyes, and she waited until the Pain Potions did their job before finishing her healing spells.

When Hermione healed the last of Snape's cuts and bruises, Rose came into the room and set a small pitcher of water on the night stand. She crossed to the bed and put her arms around her mother, who held her close. "I'm proud of you, Rose," said Hermione. "Even though, at the time I wanted to hex you for frightening me so." She kissed her daughter's hair. It smelled of apple shampoo and tenderness. "You were very brave. A true Gryffindor."

Rose hugged her mother tighter, her unspoken pleasure at the compliment evident. Finally she pulled away, whispering, "Is this really the Professor Snape, Mum?" Rose had raptly listened to her aunts' and uncles' stories of the Dark wizard who had always been faithful to the memory of Uncle Harry's mum, and who had helped to rid the world of evil.

Hermione nodded glumly. "Yes, darling. It is Severus Snape. But he hasn't been a professor for a long time." She shook her head remorsefully, and she and Rose turned to the door just as Harry walked in, looking grim.

He ran his fingers distractedly through his messy hair. "I've just been speaking with the Aurors' Office.

"The apothecary sacked him, the bastards. Said it was bad for business, employing him. Apparently he worked clandestinely under a pseudonym for awhile, but that was discovered and he lost his contracts. Things got bad enough that he was forced to sell his house and his equipment to have something to live on.

"He was living in a little bedsit in Knockturn Alley until about a month ago. He was evicted for non-payment. By all accounts he's been living rough for awhile. Eyewitnesses say that he'd been approached by chummy and offered money in exchange for sex. He agreed, but then he must've changed his mind and gave the man his money back. Looks like chummy wouldn't take no for an answer. The bastard knew Snape couldn't fight back, so he held him down, beat him and raped him. When Snape managed to get away, the scum started hexing him."

Hermione closed her eyes. "Oh, Harry! And no one tried to help?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, what do you think, Hermione? Snape's not exactly the most popular wizard. A lot of those people wouldn't mind seeing him wallowing." He looked disgusted. "They'd think it was what he deserved after playing both ends against the middle."

Hermione shook her head. "To think, he was so desperate as to allow-"

"How else would you make a living if no one will hire you, your magic has been suppressed, you have no money and nowhere to live and you're too proud to go to any of your friends to ask for help?" Harry looked angry, but his anger wasn't directed at Hermione.

Hermione huffed, "But what about his war stipend? Surely he received as much or more than we did. Merlin knows he deserved it! Don't tell me he'd spent it all."

Harry's expression grew darker. "No. That's something else I just found out. Snape's got money, plenty of it, but the Ministry won't let him touch it until the end of his sentence. The Wizengamot placed a hold on his vault at Gringotts, Hermione. Every sickle of his money, including his War stipend, was frozen. I'd say he'd been living on the proceeds from his house and whatever money he had squirreled away, hoping to hang on until the fifteen years were up."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. "If things go on the way they are, he won't be around when his fifteen years are up." She shook her head. "Fudge." She spat the name from her mouth like something foul. "I'd bet galleons to gurdyroots that berk Cornelius Fudge is behind this. He always hated Professor Snape."

Harry replied, "You're probably right."

Hermione frowned. "What I can't understand is why I never thought of him in all this time. It's like I just blocked everything out that happened before the end of the war." She looked at Harry helplessly. "I feel awful that I didn't even try to visit him. After all he did for us, I just crossed him off my Christmas card list and pretended he didn't exist anymore."

Harry squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. "We all did, Hermione. After Ron died, and the nightmare was finally over, I just wanted to get on with my life and start a family and be normal again." He looked down at the still figure in the bed. "I guess I thought he was one of those wizards who could always take care of himself."

Harry looked grim. "If he'd gone to anyone, me, you, Arthur, Professor McGonagall, we would have taken him in and helped him," he said. "But he's too damn stubborn and proud, Hermione. You can only help someone like that when their pride gives way to common sense." They both looked at the injured wizard, and Harry shook his head regretfully. "It looks like he hadn't got to that stage yet."

"No man is an island, Harry," Hermione said, her heart aching with guilt. "I know he's proud, but I have to at least try to do something right by him. I'd say that's not happened too often in his life, and he deserves better than being neglected to death."