Chapter 3: Owls and Portkeys

Snape sat staring out the dusty window, engrossed in thought. The faint rustle of feathers caught his attention. He was slightly surprised to be receiving an owl; he wondered who knew where he was. He looked at the black loopy writing and saw only his name; it seemed an owl could find someone almost anywhere. It had been years since he had received an owl at his residence. He laid it on the table, taking his time to make a cup of tea before he returned to the letter. He tapped it once with his wand.

Reveal!

He held the envelope up to the window, revealing no hints to its contents through the substantial paper. He studied the handwriting. Finally, he opened it to read Hermione’s plea.

Dear Mr. Snape,

Hermione Granger

Noticing several places where the parchment had thinned due to corrections, he smirked when he realized the worst of it was on the first line, his title. Picturing his former student biting her lower lip as she pondered her dilemma, Severus wondered how many incarnations she went though before she settled on Mister. She could no longer call him ‘Professor,’ yet she surely felt uncomfortable calling him by his given name. And she had actually been one of the few Gryffindors who didn’t call him just Snape.

Although the letter had piqued his interest, he found this bit and the lack of pleasantries—obviously the other thinned spots on the first few lines and her closing—the most intriguing. He quickly penned his response.

**

Hermione paced her office, waiting. She looked at the clock; it was past midnight. It struck her that the owl could find her at home just as well as the office and that Snape could be hours away from replying. Sleep eluded her as every small noise had her sitting up in bed, looking for an owl. It was still dark out when his response came. Hermione hurriedly tore open the envelope and read one word:

Yes.

Responding quickly, she asked him if they could meet at her flat and gave him her address. Hermione was hesitant at first about meeting at her place, but saw no other way to keep his help a secret. She knew it was slightly risky to Portkey in, but the times she and Tubersnuf had been back there, no one had been there or seen them.

With only a few hours sleep, Hermione paced between the rooms of her flat, occasionally passing through the loo to check her reflection. A firm knock made her jump. She straightened her robes and opened the door to reveal a man who hadn’t changed since her school days. His robes were showing signs of wear, and something was different about his eyes, a tiredness she hadn’t seen before maybe, but it was definitely Severus Snape on her doorstep.

Snape was unsure of what the day held for him. Hermione had been more than vague in her correspondence, which he appreciated from his days as a spy, but found aggravating when he was on the other end.

“Well?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione realized that she had not spoken. “Oh, come in please.”

He took two steps to clear the door, still looking at her with raised brows.

What was I thinking when I decided to write him for help. I must have been… well, not drunk, but I had been drinking. Hermione turned and led the way to the sitting room. She was slightly nervous, and she was not sure if was because she did not know what to expect, or if it was because she knew exactly what to expect. She reconciled herself to the fact that the man now sitting across from her would have some affect on her, took a deep breath, and began.

“As you know, I am a curse-breaker. I finished my apprenticeship and have had successes of my own.” She felt the need to express her accomplishments. “But, this last case has left both me and Tubersnuf baffled.”

“Tubersnuf?” he asked.

“My mentor and now partner,” Hermione answered.

“A goblin, I take it, from the name?”

“Yes.”

“You may very well know as much about the Dark Arts now as I do,” Snape said, narrowing his eyes.

Was that an off-handed compliment or a cutting comment directed at the goblins? Hermione wondered, but continued.

“Despite how knowledgeable goblins may be at the Dark Arts, we have exhausted our research and talents on this latest curse. I am not sure if I can explain the details of it properly, so I think it best if I take you to it for you to have a look first, and then we can either discuss it or you can read my notes.” There she had given him options, she thought; he could decide how involved he wanted to be.

Snape had to admit to himself that it was pure curiosity that had compelled him to answer her owl, that and the boredom that had set in after the war. He had gone from being important and needed on both sides of the battle to being needed by no one. At first, he had dreaded his solitude, constantly on the lookout for old enemies, almost seeming paranoid at times. When most of the Death Eaters had either been arrested or accounted for, he found himself relishing the freedom to be himself, accountable to no one. But soon he realized that the life he led did not constitute freedom, but loneliness. Hermione’s letter had enthralled him, had filled an empty place in his life, but he was not about to share that fact with her.

“Before we go, I believe your letter mentioned something about money,” he said.

“Yes,” Hermione said, “I can pay you a little out of pocket now, and if you require more, I can exaggerate my expenses at Gringotts a bit.”

Snape inwardly cringed, but kept his face fixed. He did not want to accept money from her out of her own funds. He was set and did not need the money. He had two houses, if you included the dump at Spinner’s End, and enough money to live on modestly. He did not mind, however, taking money from Gringotts. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, he thought.

“Shall we get started then?” he asked.

Hermione reset the Portkey, and five seconds later they were standing in front of the Horcrux.

A/N: Lots of thanks and chocolate to GinnyW for beta reading.