Chapter 3: John

CHAPTER 3: JOHN

Hermione went to the café each evening to watch for Snape, but he was nowhere to be found. Obviously, her encounter with him over a week before had made him reconsider where he spent the early evening hours. She spent too much time pacing the streets in the neighborhood, hoping she might run into him. Hermione constructed elaborate scenarios in her head about how that second meeting would go, but they never came to pass.

Her dreams of Snape had returned to plague her each night. She found that the tears she had shed for him years before had not dried up, though she never actually suspected they had. That morning she had shot out of bed at five o'clock to Snape's voice echoing in her mind. And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine? Her face had been wet with tears she didn't remember crying.

Instead of going directly into work, like she had on so many other early mornings, Hermione detoured to the café when it opened at six o'clock. She stood in the queue behind two men in business suits and stared at Snape's empty chair. When she shuffled to the front to stand before the display case of sweets, she saw the older woman who she knew worked each morning and who also owned the shop.

"Good morning," the woman said, greeting her with a friendly smile. "How can I help you?"

"Tea, please."

As the woman turned around to retrieve a cup, Hermione cleared her throat and spoke up again. "The boy who works in the evenings is your nephew?"

"Yes." The woman returned with a full cup. "He wasn't rude, was he? I told his mother he needs to learn some manners."

"Oh, no, he was very helpful. I was looking for a man who frequents this café, and he was able to point me in the right direction. You wouldn't happen to know a man with shoulder-length black hair and a large nose, would you?"

"John?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "John?"

"I've done my share of evening shifts, especially before my nephew started working here. You're talking about the man in black with the angry scowl, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

The woman shook her head and settled her fists against each hip, her elbows sticking out to either side. "He's quite the piece of work, that one. Took me nearly a year to get him to tell me his name, even after I drove him to the hospital."

Hermione tired to contain her shock. "You took him to the hospital?"

"It happened a month after he started coming in here. I remember the night very clearly because it all seemed so odd. He was sitting just there," the woman said, pointing to the table Hermione had begun to consider Snape's table. "I turned around to brew another pot of coffee when I heard a crash. I found him on the floor beside his chair, curled up on himself and shaking. He spilled his tea everywhere, all over the newspaper he was reading and his shirt."

The woman shook her head in remembrance. "It looked like a seizure, but just as I picked up the phone to call for an ambulance, he came out of it and told me not to do anything. Of course, I was frightened that he was hurt, so I insisted he go to the hospital. It was a slow night, and I closed the shop early to drive him to accident and emergency. Even though he was weak as a newborn, the doctor said that he couldn't find anything wrong with him. They released him, John being crabby all the way, arguing with the nurses and demanding that they leave him be. I drove him back to his flat late that night."

"His flat?" Hermione's voice was merely a croak.

"Do you know John?" the woman asked.

"Somewhat," Hermione replied.

"Somewhat?"

"I knew him several years ago. He was a professor of mine."

"A professor?" The woman smiled. "I knew it! He denied it, but he has the look of a teacher about him. You know, one of those strict ones who give detentions for sneezing in class."

Hermione laughed in spite of her rolling, nervous stomach. "Yes, Professor... John did like to give detentions." She paused and leaned across the counter. "Do you think you might be able to show me where he lives? I've wanted to speak with him for so very long. Any help you can give me would be appreciated so much."

"Well, the old bat never made me swear an oath to keep his lair hidden, so I suppose it won't do any harm to show you the way. I've got to work this morning, but if you'd like to meet me here at four o'clock this afternoon, we can pay him a visit."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," Hermione said, barely able to breathe around the anticipation already licking at the edges of her sanity.

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It didn't matter that Margaret called Severus Snape 'John.' The physical description matched, and people in hiding...or thought to be dead...were known to take pseudonyms to protect their true identity.

Hermione barely made it through her workday. Several co-workers were startled when she informed them that she planned to leave work early for personal reasons. They had never known Hermione Granger to leave her office before seven o'clock.

Now, she stood beside Margaret in front of an old wooden door. The splendor of the wood had been covered in a thick, white paint that was peeling in the damp air of the building. A weak ray of sunlight shone through the dusty window at the end of the hall, casting a sickly glow over the worn floor tiles.

"It's a filthy place to live," Margaret muttered as she rapped on the door twice.

Hermione had to agree. The building was in poor condition, and she couldn't imagine what sort of shape the flats themselves were in. However, her mind wasn't exactly on the dingy tile beneath her feet, but the man behind the door in front of her.

Margaret knocked again, and just as she lifted her hand for a third knock, the door opened to reveal Snape, his hair loose and brushing his shoulders. He wore a white button-up shirt with black trousers. His eyes cut from Margaret to Hermione.

"Get out," he said, moving to slam the door in her face.

Margaret gasped and put her hand on the door. "This nice young lady has come to speak with you, John. She says she was a student of yours."

"She's not student of mine. I don't know her."

Hermione stepped forward into the doorway. "You can't fool me, sir. I know it's you." She lifted her eyes to look defiantly into his.

"As I told you before, you must be mistaking me for someone else." The conviction behind his voice made Hermione's confidence falter. What if she was mistaken? What if he was just someone with a remarkable resemblance to Snape?

She visibly shook her head to clear the doubts. "Harry told everyone about your help...that you were with us all along," she murmured, stepping closer to him, invading his personal space.

It was he who faltered this time, taking a step away from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!" she cried, tears of frustration rimming her eyes. "You're Severus Snape, and you helped us defeat Voldemort because you were in love with Lily."

"What?" He closed the scant distance between them, towering over her with anger crackling in the air around him. "What did you say?"

"I...I said that you helped us..."

"Who told you about Lily?"

Hermione stepped back out of his doorway and into the hall. "Harry. He showed me the memories."

His lips pressed tightly together, and his face drained of color. He looked at her with rage and betrayal in his eyes. "Get out of my sight, Miss Granger." His voice was low and venomous, worse than any threat he had thrown out in class. Before she knew what had happened, the door was slammed soundly in her face.

The air glistened with dust motes, and the hall was uncomfortably silent.

"Well, that was rude," Margaret said, curling her fingers into the apron she was still wearing.

"I'm used to it," Hermione replied.

"At least he knew your name. He did say it at the end there before he shut the door on us."

"Yes, I suppose that's something." Hermione felt numb.

Margaret cocked her head. "His name isn't John, then?"

"No, but that doesn't matter."

"And who are Lily and Voldemort?"

"They're dead, both of them." Finally, she turned from the door and stared at the faded wallpaper along the opposite wall.

"This all sounds very complicated." Margaret paused, assessing Hermione before continuing. "I must be getting home, my dear. Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"I'm going to stay here for a bit."

"Is that wise? He seems to be in a right snit about your showing up here."

"This is something I need to do. Thank you for your help, Margaret."

The woman nodded and hesitantly tottered down the hall toward the staircase. Hermione blew out a shaky breath of air and leaned against the wall beside his door.

He was bound to come out eventually. She could sit in the hall until he emerged, even if it meant she'd sleep in the hallway outside his flat. Seeing his face and hearing his voice again brought back the memories in the Pensieve. Tears always followed them, and she silently cried outside his door, her fat tears splattering against the dirty tiles.

How could he be so passionate, yet be so unbearably cruel and downright cold? She realized she had romanticized him in these years after Voldemort's death. She had modified her memories of a callous and demanding professor to include hints of his hidden, private self as seen through those memories in Harry's possession.

She shouldn't have said anything about them. Harry was right; Snape would have been...in fact, was...furious they had been shared without his permission. She could understand why, seeing as how the memories were deeply private and exposing. She decided she needed to stay if only to apologize to him.

Leaning her back against the wall, she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. How did he survive, she wondered. That night had been like a nightmare, but she distinctly remembered seeing him die, the bright blood gushing out of his neck in rhythm with his heart, the beats of it becoming less and less pronounced. She had cried afterward when she remembered it, even before she had been shown his story, his private thoughts.

Hermione closed her eyes and began to make a mental list of possible ways he could have avoided death. The list was short, and none of the possibilities seemed feasible.

Author's Note: Thank you to moonrevel and JenF for their fantastic beta skills. And thank you to everyone who has left encouragement in the form of reviews. I really do appreciate it. And I promise to revel Severus's secrets in the next chapter. I swear. ;-)