Chapter 1: A Ghost

CHAPTER 1: A GHOST

She thought about him often. More often than she really should, actually. She had looked down at his lifeless body and glassy eyes nearly five years ago. The ache of remembrance shouldn't feel so raw after all that time had passed, especially considering she had never been close to him.

Hermione pressed her forehead to the pane of glass and watched the rain trickle down the other side of the window. A weak reflection revealed a tear slowly sliding over the slope of her cheek, and she bit her lower lip to hold back the sob welling up in her throat. Her heart felt twisted and tight, making it difficult to breathe properly. Her faint breath cast foggy moisture over the glass in front of her lips before it dissipated into the air.

Once her elation over Harry's victory had wore off, the aftermath of the battle had been horrible. There had been weeks in which all she did was shuffle between funerals and memorial services and homes thick with grief and loss. Then there was the matter of retrieving her parents and recovering their proper memories. Helping them had been so much harder with the weight of the battle and all those who had died resting in her mind.

It wasn't until after everything had calmed, after Kingsley had been officially elected Minister of Magic, after Hogwarts had been repaired, after Minerva McGonagall had been given the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts, after she could fall asleep without tears soaking her pillow, that Harry had shown her the memories. He had returned to Grimmauld Place to live with Kreacher shortly after the battle, and she had met him in the study of the old house, Dumbledore's Pensieve looming on the table between them.

With great care, Harry had tipped a small flask of memories into the Pensieve before looking up to meet Hermione's eyes. "I want someone else to know," Harry had said softly. "You are the only person I thought of who could appreciate this. I don't know if Ron would understand."

Hermione had nodded and stepped forward. "What is it?"

"Snape," had been Harry's only answer.

She had seen it all that evening just before twilight darkened to night. She had witnessed the spotty childhood friendship between Harry's mother and Snape, through their tumultuous years at Hogwarts, through his unfortunate turn to Voldemort and eventual redemption, finally ending in her former Potions master on his knees with tears dripping down his nose. There were also memories of conversations between Snape and Dumbledore in which they discussed Harry's fate. How horrible it must have been for Harry to watch these snippets of Snape's life just minutes before he had walked to his own presumed death.

When Hermione had finally pulled out of the lingering memories, she had stumbled several steps back, disoriented. "I don't know what to say," she had confessed in a low voice.

Harry had shaken his head at her. "I just needed someone else to know. Snape would have given me a year's worth of detentions if I had shown Ron, so you were the logical choice. You'll keep this private?"

Hermione recalled nodding at her best friend, but the rest of that evening when she had returned home was a blur of emotions. For the first time in a month, she had cried herself to sleep, remembering Severus Snape on his knees in Sirius's bedroom with a page of Lily's letter clutched in his shaking hand.

Ever since that night, those Pensieve images had replayed in her mind. He had been a better man than she had imagined possible. Of course, he had had his flaws, but didn't everyone? Perhaps Dumbledore had been right. Perhaps they did sort children into houses too early. Surely his actions had proven Severus Snape to be more suitable to Gryffindor than the more cold-hearted Slytherin.

She had been present for the last moments of his life, had witnessed his death, and had seen his most private and intimate memories from years before. And no matter how painful it was to remember Snape's intense, unrequited love of Lily, his sacrifice and atonement, his overpowering feelings of guilt, his unhappy life in which he was always the odd man out, she still clung to the memories as if they were something precious, a connection to a man she realized she never really knew. Surprisingly, that made the pain all the worse.

Hermione sniffed and brushed the tear from her cheek before pulling away from the cool windowpane. She could think of no better word to apply to Severus Snape than tragic.

She turned around and surveyed the boxes scattered across the floor of her new flat. Harry and Ron had promised to stop by the next day and help her put the place in order, though she warned them to be discreet when Apparating outside the building since it was in a Muggle area of the city. They both seemed confused as to why she had decided to live among Muggles, and Hermione wasn't sure if she could explain her feelings on the subject properly to either of her friends. She had spent so many years beneath the shadow of Voldemort's power and Harry's duty that she felt she needed a break. She would still keep her job at the Ministry, of course, but she would also be able to retain her connection with the Muggle world as well.

Deciding to wait until tomorrow to unpack her books, she shoved some money in her pocket and checked her blotchy face in the mirror before heading out for a cup of coffee. There was a place only a few blocks west. She had seen it when she had toured the flat for the first time.

Hermione pulled the hood of her light coat over her head as she stepped out into the misty rain that had been falling for hours. It wasn't yet eight o'clock, but the sky looked as if it were nearing midnight. The cool air felt good on her flushed face while she hurried down the pavement, looking for the neon sign that denoted the café. Jogging the last few meters to the door, she prepared to duck inside the cozy store. Instead, she stopped and stared through the blurry storefront with absolute shock.

Sitting in the far corner of the small shop was a man who very strongly resembled Severus Snape. His black hair was haphazardly pulled back revealing the harsh lines of his face and hooked nose. He appeared to be dressed in black from head to toe and was hunched over a newspaper resting on the small table. Just as he looked up to scan the windows, Hermione pulled away and slammed her back into the brick wall next door. Her chest heaved with every breath she managed to suck in.

It was impossible. Severus Snape was dead. He had died over five years ago on the dusty floorboards of the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. There was no possible way he could be sitting in a small café blocks from her flat. Trying to still her trembling hands, she pushed off the wall and turned to go home, afraid to even risk another look at what could only be a ghost.

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"Hermione. Hermione?" Ron waved his hand in front of his friend's face, forcing her to break away from the window and the view of the street below.

"What?"

"You seem weird. You don't like the new place?"

Hermione shook her head and reined in her wayward thoughts. "The flat is great. I'm just feeling a bit off today."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, levitating her new bookcase to the far wall.

Frowning, Hermione threw herself into the closest armchair and sighed. "I think I've lost my mind," she muttered.

"Just now figured that out?" Ron said with a barely repressed grin.

"Shut up, Ron," she replied with a slight chuckle. He ducked to avoid the throw pillow she flung in his direction. It sailed above his head and hit Harry square in the chest.

Catching the pillow before it had time to rebound and fall on the floor, Harry tossed it back. "What's going on?"

"I saw something yesterday in the local café. Except, what I saw isn't possible. I think the stress of moving is getting to me."

Ron sat down on the couch. "What did you see?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Nothing. It was nothing."

Harry took a seat next to Ron and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "No matter how silly it is, you know you can tell us."

"Especially if it is bothering you this much," added Ron.

Hermione rubbed her weary eyes. After her sighting the previous night, she hadn't got much sleep. "You'll think I've gone mental."

"Come on, 'Mione."

"Don't call me that, Ronald." Drawing in a deep breath, she continued, "I thought I saw someone we knew, but that's impossible since that person is... dead."

Both boys' faces sobered into a more stern expression. "What do you mean, dead?" Harry asked, watching her from behind the delicate rims of his new glasses.

"Exactly that, Harry. Dead. Deceased. Gone. Departed. No more."

With an admirable show of trying to lighten the mood again, Ron exclaimed, "Blimey, you are mental."

"Who was it?" Harry asked, his voice still grave and serious.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat brought on by her nerves. This was silly. He was dead. She mistook someone who looked like him. Then again, who looked like him? Clearing her throat, she answered Harry's question in a soft voice. "Snape."

Harry and Ron were silent for a long moment, simply staring at her with open mouths and wide eyes. "But he's dead!" Ron said, breaking the spell.

"I know that," she snapped back.

"I saw him die," Harry added.

"I know; I was there."

"So, you must have been mistaken," Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously. I'm not saying that Snape is alive. Snape is dead. We all saw it. We even went to his funeral and burial. His body is probably lying..." She felt her voice catch and forced back an unexpected sob.

Harry ran a hand roughly through his wild hair. "Actually, Hermione, his body was never recovered."

"What?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"It was while you were away finding your parents," Ron said.

"Well, yes, I know that," she replied. "Everyone assumed that Voldemort had ordered one of the other Death Eaters to remove the body from the Shrieking Shack. They were still looking for it when I left to find my parents. But," she said, carefully watching Harry, "I thought they had found it by the time I returned. There was a funeral, a memorial service." Neither of her friends made any motion to deny her words. "There was a coffin. I stood there and watched them lower it into the ground."

"It was just his wand," Harry muttered.

Hermione stood from the chair, looking at her friends with disbelief. "What?"

Ron nodded. "They searched for almost two months, Hermione. Kingsley even appointed a team to find the body, but nothing came up. They even used tracking spells to trace the body from the Shrieking Shack. The trail was cold, not even a hint."

"So," Harry said, "they decided to bury his wand and keep the lack of a body quiet. Kingsley told me before the funeral because I asked to see him...the body...before the burial."

Hermione fell back into the armchair, unable to say anything or get past the shock. She had visited his grave twice a year for five years, believing that it was his final resting place. It was quite a blow to realize she had been misled.

"Don't worry it about, though," Ron added. "We were there when he died. Voldemort probably sent one of the Death Eaters back to the Shrieking Shack to bury Snape's body in the Forbidden Forest while he waited for Harry to surrender that night. There were so many curses and hexes thrown around that night, it was no wonder they couldn't pick up the trail. Too much interference."

"Why wasn't I ever told?" she finally managed to ask.

Harry shook his head and watched her with sad eyes. "We thought you'd insist on finding the body yourself. After I told you what Snape had done for us that night, you were pretty keen on giving him a proper burial and all."

Ron nodded his agreement. "And it'd be useless, Hermione. Mad-Eye was killed months before, and we never found him either."

"I don't...I don't know what to say," Hermione mumbled, glancing out the window again. It was starting to rain after a reasonably sunny morning.

"We're sorry for keeping it from you," Harry said softly. "But he's dead, Hermione. We all saw it. That bloody snake bit him, and he bled to death. It would have been impossible for him to survive."

She blew out a shaky breath of air. "I know, Harry. I know. I just saw someone who looked like Snape. It was raining, and I couldn't see all that well through the blurry glass anyway."

All three friends sat in silence, listening to large drops of rain smacking against the window ledge. Finally, Ron stood and brushed imaginary dust from his trousers. "What do you say we get all these books of yours out of the boxes and back on the shelves," he suggested with a forced smile.

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"Thank you for seeing me, sir." Hermione extended her hand in greeting.

"Don't you get formal with me, Miss Granger," Kingsley replied with a warm smile, taking her hand and shaking it with enthusiasm. "It's been too long since we last spoke."

"You know me," she said with a smile. "I always get side-tracked with my research."

"How are things in the Improper Use of Magic office?"

"Good, good. We were able to help Robards finally track down Goyle last week. They destroyed his Portkey, and he Apparated to his grandfather's estate. We notified the Aurors on the case as soon as we realized a wanted wizard had Apparated."

Kingsley nodded and gestured to the plush chair in front of his desk. "How can I help you, Hermione? Harry told me you wanted to see me."

"Harry confided in me about Severus Snape's missing body," she said, sitting down and getting directly to the point. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like a few questions answered. I understand that it is being kept quiet, so I was uncomfortable going to anyone but you with these questions."

Sobering rather quickly, Kingsley gave her a firm nod. "I'll be happy to answer any of your questions, Hermione. However, I don't think I'll be of much help. The team I appointed to find Severus's body was quite unsuccessful."

"Yes, Harry told me as much. They did determine that he was deceased, though?"

Kingsley let out an abrupt bark of laughter tinged with surprise. "I should say so, Hermione. As I recall, they interviewed you, and you assured the investigators that you witnessed Severus Snape's death."

"I meant beyond the eye witness accounts," she replied. "Did they investigate possible methods in which Snape could have survived, though appearing to be dead shortly after Nagini's attack?"

With a flick of his wand at a small speaker on his desk, Kingsley requested that Severus Snape's file be brought to his office. Moments later, it popped into existence in the middle of his desk blotter. "I believe," he said, flipping through the thick stack of parchments, "that they interviewed several Potion masters regarding a possible cure for the snake's venom." He turned the file toward Hermione and pointed at a page. "Here. They were quite thorough in their investigation. They've ruled out every escape or cure. Even if someone had arrived shortly after you left, Severus would have still died, if he wasn't dead already, of course."

Despite knowing that Severus Snape was very dead and had been for years, Hermione's stomach dropped in disappointment. There had been a small glimmer of hope growing in the back of her mind since Harry had confessed that Snape's body was still missing. The evidence and investigation notes in front of her were flawless and detailed. Even Hermione couldn't deny that there was just no possible way Severus Snape could have survived the attack.

Nodding solemnly, Hermione stood to shake Kingsley's hand again. "Thank you for your help."

Kingsley seemed somewhat confused as he wrapped his hand around hers. "Was there something in particular you were looking for? Do you have reason to believe Severus is alive?"

She smiled faintly and shook her head. "No, I think my imagination has run away with me. I appreciate your showing me this file. It means a great deal."

"I had no idea you and Severus were close."

Hermione shook her head again. "Oh, we weren't. I just feel like we were."

Author's Note: First, a huge thank you goes out to moonrevel and JenF for their fantastic beta help and speedy responses. As with all of my stuff, this fic is complete. It will be eight chapters long, and I plan on posting at least one chapter a week. I hope everyone enjoys it and doesn't think I've gone off the deep end by making our dear Severus into a bit of a romantic toward the end of the story. I promise a bit of angst before the confessions of love. ;-)