Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter and the associated characters appearing in this.

2.8.95

Hermione Granger

Carefully folding up the much read letter, I placed it in my desk. The first few letters Hermione sent I destroyed without reading. The next few I read, then used as kindling. The letter I had just finished reading was the first I had kept. I received it after witnessing the punishment imposed by the Dark Lord on his chief spy in the Ministry. If something ever befell Potter at Hogwarts and word reached the Dark L... Voldemort through anyone who was not me, his chief spy there, the same punishment usually awaited me if I did not have a valid excuse. Of course, sometimes even with a valid excuse I would find myself writhing in agony on the floor in front of him. So it was that when I read the letter, her guess of the events and resulting concern helped sway me to pen a reply. However, my prevailing motives were not of acceptance. At that point I was more interested in lashing out and taking out some of the pressure on me, even if it was on a mostly innocent girl. Any friend of Potter had at least broken school rules, and she had hinted at being involved in causing damage to me and my property.

Hermione had kept every single one of the letters I sent her, enabling me to reread all of our correspondence from that point. Anyone else attempting to read these letters would only see the fake set by the charm. Minerva would not be able to spy on these like she had on Hermione's diary, not that she could; I was vaguely aware that it was a weekday in term time. Minerva would be teaching, as I was in theory. Seventh year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws hardly needed my supervision. I could leave them to get on with things whilst I revisited the past by parchment. I reached into my desk, retrieving the next letter. My reply. I winced at the sight of it. I wasn't proud of my initial reaction to Hermione's offer, viewing it then as interference from a useless Gryffindor.

4/5/95

SS

Resisting the urge to crumple the worn piece of parchment in my hands, I leaned back in my chair, eyes clenched shut. If only I had... but I wasn't sure myself what I wished I had done. Did I wish that I had never opened up to Hermione, or that I had let her closer sooner? Minerva was right. Even if I had pushed Hermione away, she would still have died in that car crash, only to come back to life with her Necromantic powers awakened. Voldemort would still have ordered me to pursue her, something that I would have achieved even if I hadn't become friendly with her. Yet still, I almost wished that I had never been blessed (or was it cursed?) with affection for and from Hermione. It would be far less painful now if that were the case.

The scent of the brewing potions was lost to that of aging parchment as I drifted into my memory, specifically that of my pivotal meeting with Hermione in Black's library...

She was waiting for me, not reading one of the less perilous books as I had expected, but pacing in front of one of the antique reading desks in a futile effort to suppress her nerves. I guessed that the reason for her unease had something to do with the stack of galleons on the desk behind her.

Hermione beamed up at me. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."

Indeed, I did not. By the end of the month I was persuaded to take our 'blank slate' agreement as literal, meaning that we really did start anew. Allowing the usage of given names in our correspondence followed a bemusing suggestion from Hermione that we reintroduce ourselves. The experience was made all the more unusual by the fact that it took place on parchment.

I was just reaching in to my desk drawer to replace my terse note with the introductory letters when I happened to look up at the assembled students sweating behind their cauldrons. I frowned, eyes narrowing as I tried to detect what it was that had drawn my attention. There was something making my ears ache, but what? The students were working quietly for once, no conflicts between those wearing Slytherin and Gryffindor house colours for once. Wait. Slytherin and Gryffindor? Last time I checked, they were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. I dug my timetable out of the depths of my paperwork, to see that the class immediately following my seventh year Ravenpuffs was fifth year Slyffindors. I twisted my head around to stare at the blackboard, horrified. To my admittedly poor knowledge, none of my current fifth years were capable of brewing such an advanced level potion. Even as I almost gave myself whiplash spinning back to face the class, wand in hand, I knew it was too late.

The castle shook, enough to make Minerva stagger as she paced around her classroom checking on the progress of her fourth year Ravenclaws. A babble of young voices were either asking each other or their professor what had happened, something that Minerva was all too afraid that she knew.

"Class dismissed. Go to your common room or the library to start your homework. Now!" her voice cracked like a whip, startling the students. They hurried off, allowing her to secure the classroom as she exited hard on their heels.

The position of her classroom on the first floor allowed her to reach the dungeons faster than any other teacher. No doubt to the surprise of many of her students, Minerva possessed a vivid imagination; one currently tormenting her with progressively worse visions of what she would find. Expecting anything from strewn body parts to nothing more than a crater, Minerva was relieved to find Severus and all of the students intact, if covered from head to toe in what appeared to be pink slime. Almost every cauldron in the room had exploded, but the wards had prevented any non-repairable damage.

Severus wiped his currently pink sleeve over his slime-covered face in an attempt to preserve what little dignity he had left. The mortified flush on his face clashed violently with the substance still slowly dripping from the end of his nose. Feeble sparks mingled with smoke appeared from the end of his wand as he attempted what Minerva guessed was a non-verbal Scourgify. If his wand was ever going to work again, it would only be after it was thoroughly cleaned by hand of the potion currently coating the room, as the use of magic might complicate the problem. Bearing this in mind, Minerva cast her own cleansing charm, carefully modifying it to leave the wands in their currently filthy state.

"Hospital w..." Severus started to say, before clutching at his throat as a startled squeak escaped him at the sound of his own voice.

"All students go to the hospital wing," Minerva managed to hiss between clenched teeth. She prided herself on her self control as much as Severus did, but this situation was too much. The students hurried off, avoiding speaking in fear that what had happened to Severus's voice had happened to theirs too. "You should go too, Severus."

He opened his mouth to object, but closed it again with a sour expression on his face. He strode off, robes billowing in his wake.

Minerva closed the door and managed to set up a silencing ward before collapsing against the door in a helpless fit of hysterical laughter. She would treasure the memory of Severus Snape with a voice pitched like a house elf, but adding it to how he looked before the cleansing spell... Minerva shoved her fist into her mouth in a futile effort to stifle her giggles as she felt her ward being effortlessly broken by the master of the school.

"Minerva, what..." Albus looked bewildered before observing the wrecked classroom and the smeared (yet still readable) chalk on the blackboard. "I see," he murmured regretfully.

The next fit of mirth died before it could surface, leaving a cold feeling spreading in its wake. Minerva thought it might be dread, but couldn't be sure whilst in the grip of it. "Albus, please tell me you are not thinking like I believe you are."

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but we both know that Severus has become a danger to himself and those around him. He would never normally have fifth years brew a N.E.W.T. level potion."

"What?" 'You can't mean that.'

"Severus, that is my final word on the matter. We are very fortunate that no one was seriously injured, let alone killed. Until I am satisfied that you are recovered, you will not be teaching in this school. Besides, I do believe that you are overdue for a holiday."

"But Hogwarts is all I have left! I'm not ill. I don't need time to recover." 'You won't let me stay, I know it. You'll send me away, not letting me take any remnant of Hermione with me.'

"Not physically, no. But you have suffered a severe emotional blow. You need time to recover from that."

"You think Hermione's death is an illness I can recover from?" 'You unfeeling bastard! If you had any idea what I'm going through...'

The Hat shuddered at the tone of young Snape's voice; sharp enough to cut through fabric. It gave up the ongoing attempt to put together the next Sorting song, knowing from experience that few teachers had gone quietly. It had no true body to feel sensory disturbances with, but the Founders of this school had blessed (or cursed, depending how you looked at it) it with all of the ordinary senses that a human head was equipped with, plus a few modifications to Sort the students with. Namely, the ability to smell what house best fits someone usually by the time it's placed on their head. Unfortunately, the Hat's hearing was powerful enough to detect thoughts, so actual voices could be uncomfortably loud, together with particularly strong thoughts. Usually Snape and Dumbledore were more comfortable for it to be around as their mind magic shielded their thoughts, allowing it to work in relative peace. That was not the case with Snape at the time of his 'discussion' with Dumbledore.

"Of course not, Severus. But it is obvious to me that spending the time since her death at Hogwarts was counter-productive. You need time to heal, in a place where you are not in surroundings that constantly remind you of what you have lost. I had hoped that time alone would be enough; unfortunately that is not the case."

Snape's thoughts hurling insults at the Headmaster were unrepeatable, enough to fray the Hat's fabric. Snape voiced some of them, although in a more controlled fashion.

"You will thank me for this one day. This way I may yet retain my Potions master instead of losing him to St. Mungo's, and I don't mean to a different job there," Dumbledore spoke as though he hadn't registered the stream of vulgarities from Snape's mouth.

"You may be my employer, but that does not give you right to tell me how to live my life!" 'You interfering brother-of-a-goat-lover!'

The accompanying thought was roughly translated, but the meaning was the same.

"I am well over a century your senior, Severus. I was your guardian for many years. I only regret that circumstances did not allow me to fulfil my role properly. And I have been your employer for longer still. But first and foremost, I am your friend. I know you better than you know yourself. I know what must be done to help you. If I have to, I will force you to accept that help, even if the cost is our friendship."

The Hat winced in advance of another explosive outburst as Snape straightened up, his lungs expanding to their full capacity, his face so red it was almost purple. Instead the only explosion was the rush of air as Snape sighed, his shoulders drooping. His face paled back to its more normal old parchment colouring. The ancient Hat would have blinked if it'd been able to, while Dumbledore did so, both of them dumbfounded by the sudden change.

"Fine," Snape spat, his face curiously blank, void of even the slightest scowl. "As you wish, I will take a leave of absence. But I will not leave my return in your hands." His mind magic was back in action too, leaving it as helpless as the next hat as to his motives.

"As a matter of fact, I will not be able to. With Horace Slughorn's retirement, there are very few possible applicants for the interim position of Potions master, and none that I would trust."

"But you've been trying to tempt me back into the Defence position ever since I left it!"

"Yes, in the hopes that it would help. What I will set into motion now is what I had planned then. I will step down from my post as Headmaster, if only temporarily, to take Potions. Minerva will be Headmistress until your return, so your return will be in her paws." Dumbledore looked over the top of his spectacles at the tabby cat currently skulking in one of the corners of the room.

"I think you mean claws," Snape muttered under his breath. He continued in an audible tone. "I will leave as soon as I have collected my personal belongings."

"Severus, catch!" Dumbledore tossed one of his lemon drops at Snape, who was unprepared for this move. He caught the sticky sweet automatically, before his brain could catch up with his reflexes. He vanished from the room, instantly dragged away by Portkey.

'I hope that when Snape was allowed to return, he would be more himself again. No one else criticises my songs like he does, and I truly mourn the lack of his scathing comments,' the Hat thought before returning to its composing.

I was still fuming when the owl carrying what Minerva could sneak under Albus's nose arrived. How dare he dictate the means of my 'recovery'? As if not having reminders of Hermione around me would make me forget her. At least Minerva understood, having suffered a similar loss to me before, as she'd confessed during her attempt to drink me under my own desk.

I had attempted to sneak back into Hogwarts to retrieve what I wanted, but Albus bloody Dumbledore had adjusted the wards to keep me out until my mental state was less raw. Bastard. Whatever his birth certificate says, I'm positive that his mother wasn't married when he was born.

Instead I sent a Patronus message to Minerva, all but begging her to either let me in or send me what I requested. A day later the owl arrived where Albus had unceremoniously dumped me, his scarcely used holiday home in the typically wet mid Wales. I was surrounded by sheep, which led me to wonder if Albus had a fondness for them matching his brother's for goats.

Vaguely aware of the long and soggy flight the bird had endured, I fed it before I tore into the package. Minerva, bless her, had included Hermione's diary as well as her letters. On closer inspection some letters were missing, including the 'introductory' ones. The note Minerva had slipped among them explained their absence.

Severus,

Minerva

If the suggestion had come from anyone else, I would have ignored it. But perhaps the new Headmistress's advice was worth more than just the time it took to read it. To take her idea further, I could also make use of the Pensieve I had discovered after forcing my way through a trapdoor in search of something more powerful than butterbeer. Holding the antique bottle of Ogden's best up to the light (also recovered during the same hunt), I poured myself a generous helping.

"Here's to us, Hermione, wherever you are."

AN: Thanks to LadySunflower for her invaluable services as my beta, and to my lovely reviewers.