Epilogue: In transitu

Epilogue: In transitu

28 July 1998; 6 June 1998

Walking the length of the platform at Paddington, Severus felt in his pocket for his ticket, reassuring himself for the hundredth time. There was still time to change his mind. She would never know. But he boarded the train and found a seat. A few minutes later, there was a slight lurch, then another, and the train pulled out of the station. Severus lost himself in the view out the window, scarcely noticing when they passed out of the city and into the countryside, travelling westward. He roused when the conductor asked for his ticket, carefully replacing it in his inner pocket when it was returned to him.

The miles passed neither quickly nor slowly, and when he arrived in Truro, he again considered breaking off the trip, turning around, or simply finding a dark, deserted corner and Apparating back to Spinner’s End. Yet he found the information counter and asked where one could find the Western Greyhound buses.

As Severus mounted the steps of the bus, it occurred to him once more that he could change his mind, but as embarking on the trip seemed hardly to have been a decision, simply an autonomic reflex, he continued onto the bus and made his way to the back. He thought absently that he had to change in Wadebridge, and he knew that he would, just as he had Apparated to London that morning, gone to Paddington Station, and boarded the train to Cornwall. Despite his sense that he was now simply proceeding under some inertial force, he had actually planned the trip carefully, finding the times and connections, even purchasing his tickets in advance.

He had not told Hermione he was coming. Three days before, he had looked at her last letter to him, remembered her earlier invitation to visit, and found the letter in which she had told him where she and her parents were staying for the summer. Then he’d left his house and proceeded to plan his route and purchase his tickets. He could have departed from Manchester, but for some indefinable reason, he preferred Apparating to Diagon Alley and leaving from London. He also could have held out his wand and boarded the Knight Bus and taken it at least as far as Port Isaac. Instead, he was taking Muggle transport, slow but reliable, and watching the changing scenery pass by. Sharp grey needles of rain began to streak the dusty bus window.

He had last seen Hermione at the Order of Merlin awards dinner. They had spoken briefly in the foyer after the awards had been distributed, and she had confirmed that she was leaving the next morning for Australia. The Muggle detective had found her parents, then the witch investigator had confirmed that Hermione’s memory charms were still in place and they appeared unharmed. They had simply moved from Melbourne to Sidney of their own accord.

Severus had accepted Hermione’s congratulations for his two Orders of Merlin and congratulated her in turn, then asked whether she had known what had been planned for him. She had shaken her head, then explained that she had known that they had something special in mind for him, but she hadn’t known what it was.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” Hermione said. “It wouldn’t have been the same if it had been awarded without you actually here to accept.” She reached out and touched his arm.

“Was it really Potter’s idea?” Severus asked sceptically.

“I don’t think the precise award was, but he did ask that they do something to distinguish you from the others. He was worried that everyone would remember him, because he’s ‘the boy who lived,’ and Dumbledore because, well, he’s Dumbledore, not to mention his surprising reappearance, and Headmistress McGonagall because she led the defence of Hogwarts, but that you might be forgotten, and you were as essential to Riddle’s defeat as he was, even if you didn’t have a prophecy about you.”

Severus coloured. The damned prophecy. If he had never heard it . . . he never could have betrayed Lily. But he likely would be long dead or languishing in Azkaban now. And deservedly so. He did not believe that he would have ever found the final motivation to betray the Dark Lord if it hadn’t been for the danger to Lily and her family, ironically, a danger he himself had created. Lily’s death had, in a way, saved him just as it had saved her son. His debts were greater than anyone could comprehend, and Severus once again had the sense that it had been wrong for him to have received any award at all. The thought flitted through his mind that the awards had negated any repayment he had made for his crimes. Whatever Minerva said about his having paid more than enough, he doubted he would ever feel that way himself. There were no scales of justice weighing his evil deeds against his positive ones. And so much he had had to do in order to repay his debt and attain his vengeance had required him to commit more evil. There was no wiping the slate clean; there was no slate. There was only his soul, and he could feel the evil inscribed there indelibly.

Suddenly overwhelmed by disgust with himself, he wished to shake off Hermione’s friendly hand lest his evil infect her. He stepped back slightly, and her hand dropped to her side.

“It might be better to be forgotten,” Severus said.

Hermione shook her head. “No, Severus. And not just for you, but for everyone. We all need to remember what you did. Without you, Harry is right, it would have taken much longer to defeat the Death Eaters. It might not even have been possible.”

“Without people like me,” Severus said softly, “Riddle never would have had any power.”

“If all the Death Eaters had done as you did, he would have been defeated long ago,” Hermione replied equally softly. “We aren’t perfect, Severus, none of us are.”

Severus snorted. He could not engage her in argument now, but he knew that it wasn’t merely a question of human frailty. She was too good and innocent to recognise it, though.

“Your example can give encouragement to others who . . . who have made mistakes and who want to live in a different way than they had,” Hermione said. “And you did do a lot of good. They wouldn’t have given you the special Merlin if they didn’t believe that, if you didn’t deserve it. They could have simply given you a first-class Merlin and presented it at the same time they did Harry’s and Dumbledore’s.”

Severus didn’t understand himself. He had wanted recognition, he had felt injured when he had received, as he believed, only the Order, third-class, and yet he felt so utterly unworthy at the same time. He should have died. He should have his deeds celebrated posthumously. He should have been allowed to pay, to make the ultimate sacrifice. But Minerva had taken that out of his hands. Minerva, Albus, Hermione . . . he wanted to hate them for it, to denounce their efforts as selfish, but he knew that they cared for him, cared for him despite the evil he had done.

A look of sympathy crossed Hermione’s face. “You look tired. You haven’t completely recovered yet. You’ll get more used to it after you have time to adjust to everything, I’m sure.”

His knee-jerk reaction was to chafe at her concern and scoff at her words, but instead, he quirked a self-deprecating smile. “And you are still the optimistic Gryffindor, Pangloss?”

Hermione laughed. “No, not Pangloss! But I am still optimistic. And I am sure you will feel better. You just have to decide to give yourself the chance. And you have friends, you know, and not just me.”

Severus agreed in order to please her, then wished her well in retrieving her parents from Australia, reminding her to contact him if she needed anything. She smiled warmly and asked if she could contact him even if she didn’t need anything, and he returned her smile and nodded.

She had written him regularly once she had returned to England, and he had found himself looking forward to her owls. Minerva also wrote him, and McGonagall, the irritating wizard, had owled him a few times, too, insisting on a drink. In Severus’s opinion, there was something wrong with any wizard over the age of six who went around with his knees exposed all of the time. McGonagall hadn’t even bothered with long robes at the awards dinner. Not that that had stopped all of the foolish witches in the room from eying him. Still, at least he didn’t flaunt his looks like some wizards he’d known.

Minerva had found him and congratulated him again before he had taken the Portkey back to Hogwarts with Poppy. Albus had hovered in the background, trying to seem as though he wasn’t hovering. Severus hadn’t been able to speak to Albus since their conversation in the infirmary. He knew that would have to change, at least if he were to stay at Hogwarts, since Albus would be teaching Defence again. When Albus had put the Merlin around his neck, settling the broad purple ribbon over his shoulders, he had looked directly into Severus’s eyes, and Severus could see the affection . . . the love looking back at him.

“I am glad we both lived to see this day, son,” Albus had said softly. “I am so proud of you.”

Severus felt tears choking him, and he looked away. He could not allow himself weakness in front of the entire wizarding world. Albus sensed that and dropped his hands from where they had rested on Severus’s upper arms in half-embrace. Swallowing, Severus pushed his emotions aside, cleared his mind, and felt nothing. Tried to feel nothing. Then Minerva had embraced him, and he had to work harder at Occluding. But Potter was there, clapping and grinning as though he were the one receiving the award, and he reached out to shake Severus’s hand. One look into Lily’s eyes . . . Potter’s eyes, and the warmth and gratitude dissolved into guilt. But Potter’s eyes were not reproving, they were accepting.

Severus shook himself internally as the bus took a sharp turn, shifting all the passengers in their seats. He did not need Potter’s approval or forgiveness. He didn’t know what he needed, but that wasn’t it. At the moment, he almost felt beyond the guilt and self-disgust he had so often felt, but beyond that . . . was nothing. Just nothing. Nothing and no one.

A blank gaze stared back at him from the bus window, and Severus blinked before realising that he was looking into his own empty eyes. Was that what others saw when they looked at him? He closed his eyes and dozed, thinking of the end of his journey, of his ultimate goal, of Hermione.

The air brakes of the bus made a high-pitched squeal as the bus slowed and jerked to a stop. Wadebridge. Shaken from his reverie, Severus stood and stepped past the middle-aged Muggle who had been blessedly silent all the way from Truro, busy with her knitting.

“Eh, your sack!” The woman held out his paper bag to him.

Severus took the handles and nodded his thanks. He had thought he shouldn’t arrive empty-handed. Bad enough he was showing up unannounced. As he stepped off the bus into the sunshine—he hadn’t even noticed that the rain had ended—it occurred to him that turning up on the Grangers’ doorstep unannounced might be a bad idea, but he looked around and found where the bus to Port Isaac would be leaving from. Although he had time to find a bun to eat or to visit the shops, he simply stood and waited. He was underway. Once he had taken his first step that morning, he couldn’t veer from his path.

He was one of only a dozen on the bus to Port Isaac, and five of them were an American family of tourists. Much to his surprise, they scolded their youngest boy when he started to run up and down the aisle, and then they quietly admonished the older girl, who was staring at him openly. The American tourists he usually saw were loud and treated everything as though it was just there for their amusement, like the scenery or props at Disney World. But, he considered, you probably would only notice the loud ones and not the polite ones.

Severus dozed a little as the bus made its winding way to Port Isaac. Feeling a prickling, he opened his eyes. The girl was staring at him again. She glanced over at her mother beside her, then she opened her backpack and made a great show of looking for something. Severus raised an eyebrow. The girl had a wand in her bag. She was fifteen, perhaps sixteen. He hoped she knew that the laws of Britain were different from those in the States, where wand use was permitted for anyone over fifteen, though the type of permissible spells was regulated. She pulled out a pamphlet.

“Mom, do you think that man would mind me asking him about the megalithic structures in Cornwall?” She held up the pamphlet, which had a picture of standing stones on the front.

Her mother laughed slightly. “You can ask him, but even if he doesn’t mind, don’t forget that just because he’s from here doesn’t mean that he can answer all your questions.” Severus thought he detected some apprehension on the woman’s face as her daughter got up and moved to the vacant seat beside him, bringing her bag and pamphlet with her.

“I am not from Cornwall,” Severus said, attempting to be polite but discourage any conversation.

“That’s okay. You still know more than me.” The girl shot a look at her mother.

“I doubt very much that I could enlighten you.” Severus turned his head and looked out the window.

“Oh.” That information didn’t seem to deter her, and Severus was beginning to reevaluate his opinion of the American family. “This is my first time in England. Dad went to school here, though. Well, not exactly. He was a Fulbright scholar.”

Severus had the vague idea that that information was supposed to be impressive. He made a noncommittal noise and continued to look out the window.

“I’ve seen a lot of owls since coming to England,” the girl said in a conversational tone.

“Have you,” he replied drily.

“Yeah, owls, and I went to an owl emporium in London yesterday. It was hard to convince the ’rents to let me off the leash, but I told ’em I’d be fine. They let me when I said I’d bring Rick with me. He starts at my school next year, and I thought he could get some books, you know? Special ones.”

Severus nodded. The girl apparently had deduced he was a wizard. Given that his Muggle attire, which, unlike some, was perfectly unremarkable—an ordinary black suit, white shirt with French cuffs, a tie with diagonal green and silver stripes, and black ankle boots—he didn’t know what had given him away.

“I teach at a . . . private school,” he said.

Her face broke into a smile. “I knew it!” she said in hushed excitement. “You’re him! Nobody’s gonna believe it at home! Wow! And on a bus!”

“I am no one,” Severus replied, looking out the window again.

“I’ve read all about you! You’re famous. The hero Snape! D’you know Harry Potter? Duh! That’s a dumb question, of course you do! He’s so cute! Are you—I’m sorry.” The girl stopped, frozen by the glare that Severus gave her. “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just—except for an hour in Diagon Alley, when I had to drag my brother along, I’ve just been with my family, if you know what I mean.” She glanced back over at her mother.

“You appear to have competent parents and acceptable siblings. Whether they attended your school or not should not matter.” Then he remembered that he was talking to a teenager. If she weren’t embarrassed because they were Muggles, except for her one brother, she would no doubt find them embarrassing for some other reason.

“But we hardly see anything,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

“I doubt that is an accurate statement,” Severus said. “And when you are older, you can return and plan your own itinerary. Do not dismiss the destinations that your parents choose. Appreciate it instead of thinking about what you would rather be doing. That is pointless and stupid. You do not appear stupid.” Annoying and immature, but not stupid. He looked away, the conversation at an end.

After a few minutes of silence, the girl got up and moved back to sit next to her mother. She whispered something to her mother, and the woman looked over at him, slight surprise on her face, then she looked quickly away.

Wonderful. Still frightening Muggles.

Port Isaac came into view, and the various passengers began to gather their parcels together. When they arrived in the village, Severus waited until the last of them had exited the bus before he stood himself. He walked without knowing where he was going, but he had gone scarcely twenty yards before he saw a four-by-four that appeared to be a cab. The driver was slouching against the car, smoking a cigarette and talking with another man.

“You take fares?” Severus asked.

The man stepped on his cigarette, putting it out, then carefully picked it up and flicked it into a nearby bin. “I do, dependin’. Where you need to be?”

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with Hermione’s address on it.

“Aw, sure. The old Tremadden place. No. Sorry. Can’t take you there. Unless you’re going up later. In three, four hours.”

The man’s hard Rs reminded Severus uncomfortably of Gertrude Gamp’s milder Cornish accent. Everything seemed to remind him of the past lately, the long past. He frowned.

“Why can’t you take me now?” He couldn’t hang about this village doing nothing. He was on his way to see Hermione. The man was just standing there smoking, after all.

“I have a pick-up in less than an hour. It’s in th’opposite direction. I’d never make it in time. Sorry.”

“Are there other drivers?” Severus asked, looking around.

“Sometimes. It’s not regular. Not like yer in bloody London.”

“You going to the old Tremadden place?” a woman’s voice asked.

Severus turned. Looking up at him was a short Muggle with muddy boots, sharp grey eyes, striped braces, and a peculiar shapeless hat.

“Apparently. Or apparently not,” Severus replied.

“Where those dentists are staying, the Granges?” she asked.

“The Grangers, yes,” Severus replied, feeling something like relief.

“I can take you. I’m driving past there, anyway. Or near enough. Come on,” the woman said, beckoning him and turning, expecting him to follow her.

“Go on there, man, unless you want to wait an’ pay me a few hours from now,” the cab driver said.

Severus followed the woman down to a dirty Land Rover.

“Well, get in,” the woman said as she climbed in behind the wheel.

Severus walked around to the passenger’s side and opened the door.

“Do you always give lifts to strangers? Isn’t that unwise?”

She shrugged. “I’m pretty good at sizing people up,” she replied, tossing her hat into the back seat, revealing short curly grey hair, quite mussed. “Safety belt, please! I’m Sadie Pengaree. Local eccentric. You are?”

Severus fiddled with the seatbelt and hesitated, though he didn’t know why. “Snape.”

“Snape? Just Snape?”

“Severus Snape.” He felt he didn’t know who Severus Snape was.

“Okay, now we’re not strangers.” She down-shifted as she took a corner and started up a steep hill, and the engine roared.

“You know the Grangers?” Severus asked as he tried to keep from holding onto the door handle.

“Met them. Don’t know them. Talked with the daughter a bit. Interesting knowledge of herbs she has, better than most young girls nowadays. And interested in my bit of work—genuinely interested, not just humouring a ditsy old bat. I can tell when they’re just pretending to be interested but are really thinking I’m a complete barmpot,” she said cheerfully, pressing harder on the accelerator as she approached the peak of the hill.

“What is your work?” Severus asked, hoping he would survive this ride.

“Oh, it isn’t real work, though you could say it’s my occupation, or my vocation,” Sadie replied, obviously repeating something she had said many times before. “Simples, tonics, tinctures, all from nature, concocted from local ingredients that I gather myself, as far as possible. I sometimes have to use ingredients that I can’t find around here.” She shifted into fifth gear and they picked up speed as they hit a flat, straight stretch of road. “Have to be careful though. Careful of my suppliers and careful who I give my remedies to. They think ‘natural’ means ‘innocuous,’ and they think that more is better.” She shook her head at the idiocy of people. “Dunderheads, sometimes.”

Severus smirked.

“And you?” She looked over at him. “On holiday? No—recuperating from something, I’d say. Car accident?”

“Something like that,” Severus replied.

She eyed him. “You look like you could use something to raise your iron. A little sunshine wouldn’t hurt either. And you’ve been eating too much prepackaged stuff. The microwave might be handy, but you can cook fresh vegetables in it as easily as you can one of those prefab things that are half fat and half salt.”

“Mm.” Another woman who thought she should give him dietary advice. She was right, though, he’d only been eating prepackaged meals. He used his wand to heat them, not a microwave, but otherwise . . .

“Interesting ring,” Sadie commented, sensing that her cooking advice was falling on stony ground.

Severus looked down at his ring and nodded. Two snakes, intertwined. Gold and silver, like those of Snape’s Slytherins, but unlike theirs, the heads were not in profile, and each snake had two emerald eyes.

They drove another ten minutes in silence.

“That’s the place,” Sadie said. She slowed and indicated a lone whitewashed stone house below them.

“You can drop me here,” Severus said. “I will walk the rest of the way.”

“It’s no trouble for me to drive you around to the house. The turn off is just a few hundred yards ahead.” Sadie pointed. “It’ll bring us down to that road on the other side, then, hey, presto! There’s the driveway.”

Severus shook his head, and Sadie brought the car to a stop and pulled on the handbrake.

He reached into his pocket. “Can I give you something for your trouble?”

“No, thanks. It was my pleasure.”

Severus walked down off the road and started across the moor, waiting until the “local eccentric” was out of sight before he Disapparated. He didn’t Apparate too close to the house, since he presumed that Hermione had raised Antiapparition wards.

Again questioning the wisdom of his unannounced visit, he walked around the side of the house and down a path toward the front door. It opened to him before he reached it. A middle-aged woman smiled out at him.

“Professor Snape?”

He nodded.

“Please, come in,” she said, opening the door more widely and stepping back. “Hermione is out, but she will be back soon.”

He stood stock-still.

“I’m Anne, Hermione’s mother. Jerome will be pleased to meet you, too. Hermione has told us a lot about you.”

Severus stepped up the one granite step and into the house.

“Jerome!” Anne called. “We have a visitor!” She turned back to Severus. “Please, come in and have a seat!” She gestured toward a room to her right.

Severus had to stoop slightly to go through the doorway. He didn’t recognise any of the furniture from his one visit to the Grangers’ other house when the Dark Lord—Riddle—had summoned him. He was actually glad of that.

A tall, slim man with greying ginger hair and glasses seemed to spring into the room. “Professor Snape! Pleased to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. “Hermione mentioned you might visit, but she didn’t say it would be today.”

Severus shook the man’s hand. “I hadn’t been certain when I could come,” he replied somewhat disingenuously.

“We’re glad you could,” Jerome replied. “Have a seat—would you like a drink? Tea? Lemonade? Something stronger? We have Scotch, gin—Anne enjoys a gin and bitter lemon occasionally.”

That reminded Severus of his bag. “Nothing at the moment, thank you, unless you were going to have something.” He held out his brown paper bag. “I brought you something.” He looked past Jerome at Anne. “For the family.”

Jerome pulled the wine bottle from the bag and looked at the label. “This does look nice, doesn’t it, honey?” He held out the bottle to his wife.

“A Pinot Noir. Excellent!” she agreed, examining the label more closely than her husband had.

Severus felt slightly guilty at passing on the gift he had received from Slughorn, but he knew that that wizard would have selected a good wine. He also hadn’t thought of it until the night before.

“But there’s something else in the bag,” Jerome said. He reached in and pulled out a book.

Severus worried for a moment that his choice had been poor and that he might inadvertently offend his hosts, but he didn’t say anything. This gift, too, was not new, but he had gone through his bookshelves looking for a book on British history, one that was Muggle and not wizarding, and he remembered this one had been interesting and instructive, though it tended to dwell rather heavily on British excesses.

Jerome grinned, though, when he saw the cover. “The Battle of Culloden! And I haven’t seen this one before.” He began to open the book.

“Ah ah ah!” Anne admonished, taking the book from him. “If you start looking at that, you’ll forget we have a guest.” She smiled at Severus. “The perfect choice for my husband—though I’ll certainly read it when he’s finished with it. We still haven’t got our books from the other house, and we’re always looking for new things to read, anyway. Now, why don’t I get us a pitcher of lemonade while you two talk. Hermione should be along soon.”

“I think that’s her now,” Jerome said as the sound of a motor approached the house. “Yes, there she is.”

Just as the motor stopped, Severus turned his head to look out the window. Hermione was getting off a Vespa and removing her helmet. He felt as though there were doxies in his stomach.

“Now sit, Professor. I’ll let Hermione know you are here,” Anne said.

Severus sat at one end of the couch as Jerome sank into an armchair. He heard Hermione’s mother greet her. He couldn’t hear what Anne told her, but he did hear Hermione’s voice saying, “Really?” and a second later, she was in the room.

“Severus!” Hermione’s grin was infectious, and as Severus stood, he found the corners of his mouth turning up in response to her enthusiastic greeting.

“Hermione. I hope my timing is not inconvenient—” he began.

“No, not at all, but how did you get here? When did you arrive?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” Severus replied.

“He brought us a very nice wine,” Anne said, “and a book your father’s champing to read. But come help me in the kitchen, Jerome.” She hefted the two bags Hermione had apparently given her when she came in.

“How did you find us?” Hermione asked, sitting down on the couch next to Severus.

“You sent your address. You seemed . . . I thought you had suggested I visit,” Severus said awkwardly.

“I did, and I was beginning to think you weren’t interested in visiting, but how did you get here? Knight Bus?”

“I took the train to Truro, then the bus from there. A woman named Pengaree gave me a lift from town.”

“You met Sadie? I like her. I sometimes almost forget she’s a Muggle when we’re talking about her herbal remedies. I’m so glad you decided to come!” She reached over and patted his knee. “But why didn’t you owl? I could have at least picked you up in Truro, if not Diagon Alley, saved you the long trip.”

Severus twitched one shoulder. “I simply decided to come. I thought . . . I thought that if I thought about it too much, I might not. Or something. And the trip was . . . interesting.” He shifted awkwardly. “Your parents were quite hospitable. They politely hid any surprise they must have felt at my unexpected appearance on their doorstep.”

“I did tell them that I invited you to come visit. And now that you know where the house is, you can visit much more easily,” Hermione said brightly. “Just Apparate. There’s a shed and a trellis I’ll show you. There’s a nook there where you can arrive without being seen from the roads.”

Severus looked out at the Vespa. “You ride a motor scooter?”

“Yes, it’s practical. Better than Apparating everywhere and having people wondering how I get about, and it’s fun, too. But I would have brought you by Side-Along—though the Vespa does have room for a passenger, it’s a bit far to ride as a passenger all the way from Truro! But we have a car, too. So . . . what made you decide to visit today?”

Severus shook his head. “I just thought I would. I wanted to see you. Things seem very odd now. I . . . after I decided to come, I seemed to have a purpose.” He coloured mildly. “It was something to do for the day, I mean. But I wanted to see you.”

“Would you like to go for a walk? Now that the sun’s out, it’s a beautiful day, perfect for a walk.”

Severus nodded. Now that he was here, he certainly felt it had been foolish to come. He had nothing to say, no reason to be there. No reason to be anywhere.

“Okay, let me just run and change my shoes and let Mum and Dad know we’re leaving the house.” She looked at his clothes. “Are you comfortable in that, or did you want to change? Or Transfigure them?”

“I will Transfigure my shoes,” he replied with a nod, looking down at his boots, which he had carefully polished the night before using a potion of his own devising.

Hermione was back very quickly. “Ready? Good.” She smiled up at him. “We can finally have that proper walk we were going to have.”

Severus let out a slow breath and he felt a knot of tension unwind in him.

The two walked for twenty minutes, Hermione pointing out the little nook between the trellis and the shed where he could Apparate to if he decided to visit again, and then heading west across the road to a footpath. Hermione spoke of her indefinite plans for the future, the various options she was considering, including travelling through the wizarding world for a year and seeing all of the different ways that wizards lived around the globe.

“I was amazed to see the way that the wizarding world functions in Australia,” Hermione said. “I always assumed it was more-or-less the way things are here, just with a different accent.” She laughed. “But they really do things very differently. The differences between Muggle Britain and Muggle Australia are practically nonexistent compared to the differences between wizarding Britain and wizarding Australia. I think we could learn a lot from the way wizards live and govern themselves in other countries. Even the way they do magical research.”

“You are going away for a year?” Severus asked. He didn’t like that thought. In her letters, she had mentioned some of the things she was considering, including Muggle university, an apprenticeship, a job at the Ministry, and devoting her time to S.P.E.W., but she hadn’t said anything about leaving Britain.

“It’s an option,” Hermione replied. “But probably not. Not now, anyway. My parents are still having some difficulties adjusting to life, though I doubt there was anything you could notice in the short time you were with them. They are having some . . . some memory problems, a little confusion. But even without that, I think I’d like to be nearer them for a while. And there are so many other things that I could do. I don’t have to decide anything right away, though. What about you?”

“I still haven’t decided whether to return to teaching or not. Minerva has been good to her word and hasn’t bothered me about it, though I do hear from her every few days.” He sounded disgruntled about that, but he was actually grateful. Her regular friendly correspondence punctuated his otherwise dull and shapeless days with small spots of light.

“What do you want to do?” Hermione asked, taking his arm and guiding him to some flat rocks where they could sit in the sun.

Severus shook his head. “I don’t know. When I think about going back, I don’t want to, but then when I think about not returning, that seems worse. I feel I have nothing in my future but long, dull, blank days.”And nights filled with dreams of unspeakable horror, murder, cruelty, and torture. Of willingly punishing a recalcitrant Death Eater, Petrifying him and draping the bodies of his dead wife and two-year old daughter across him, of laughing as tears spilled out of the Petrified man’s eyes. Of smiling as he cut off a witch’s arm. Of pouring poison down the throat of one of his students. And then waking to know that the nightmares were his own memories. Memories of his own horrific acts.

They sat in silence for a while, looking off over the sea below, a few distant boats bobbing like toys on the water.

“I think you should go back for another year,” Hermione said finally. “Not that you asked my advice, but that’s what I think. Then at the end of the year, you can decide whether to stay or to leave, and it will be on your own terms, and not just because you’re not the Order’s spy any longer. You can see for yourself what it’s like to teach and be Head of Slytherin without having Riddle and the Death Eaters be a factor in your life. And not that you have to prove anything to anyone else, of course, but it might be a side benefit to show people that you belong at Hogwarts on your own merits as a Potions master and a talented wizard, that you weren’t just tolerated by Dumbledore and later by the Headmistress because they needed you as a spy.”

There had been some suggestions in the Daily Prophet that Severus had only been kept on at Hogwarts because they had “wanted to keep an eye” on him before Riddle returned, and after, because they wanted to have easy access to their spy. Minerva had finally given a statement a few days before, saying that Severus Snape was not only a valued member of the Order and a true hero, as attested by his two Merlins, but that he was a good friend and highly valued member of the Hogwarts staff, and that Hogwarts had been fortunate to have such an extremely talented Potions master on the faculty for so many years. Still, it seemed that if they were only questioning his place on the Hogwarts staff, Hermione thought, that was preferable to having them wonder about his past as a Death Eater. She hoped that Severus wasn’t reading the Prophet. It might discourage him.

“Stay this year,” Hermione repeated, “and then if you decide to leave at the end of it, you’ll do it on your own terms for your own reasons, and because you have something else to look forward to, not just because it’s the default choice.”

Severus nodded. “I do owe Minerva a lot, as well.”

“I’m sure that Professor McGonagall only wants what’s best for you, though. I don’t think she would want you to stay only out of a sense of obligation to her. She hasn’t said that, has she?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“No, no, she hasn’t. She . . . you are correct. She would not want me to remain out of a sense of obligation to her. But the obligation is there, nonetheless.” Severus let out a small sigh. “My contract is up in a few days. I should let her know by the thirty-first. And normally, we all return on the second of August to renew the wards, but Minerva said that because of the extensive work they are doing on the grounds and castle, and on the wards, as well, that will take the place of the annual ward renewal and I don’t need to be there on the second.”

“Annual ward renewal?” Hermione asked, her interest piqued.

“Not strictly necessary, at least not on an annual basis, but the wards are . . . given a tune-up every year, and by tradition, it takes place the day after Lammas. It’s not a secret, but it’s not common knowledge, either. The Headmaster or Headmistress also usually makes any changes to the castle or grounds at that time, too—moves rooms about, and such. That doesn’t stop Hogwarts from changing things on her own when the mood strikes, but that’s when the big changes generally get made. Usually with the help of the house-elves, of course.” Severus looked off into the distance. “I think your advice is good, though. I will consider it.”

“What have you been doing this summer? You never say very much in your letters.” Although he responded to almost every one of her letters, his were all very short.

“I have done very little to speak of. I eat. I read. McGonagall has annoyed me a few times, insisting on meeting for a drink. The first time, I couldn’t very well say no, since he reminded me that I owed him a drink. After that . . . it simply seemed easier to agree than to be peppered with owls every other hour,” he said in disgust.

Hermione laughed. “I’m sure you could ignore them if you really wanted to. Gareth’s a good guy. He’s really pretty brilliant, like you, but a lot more out-going. He also has a positive outlook. I think he’s probably good for you.”

“Hmmph.” Despite himself, Severus had . . . not enjoyed young McGonagall’s company, no, not that, but it had provided him diversion from his mundane routine.

“I’m glad you came today, Severus.”

He nodded.

“How have you been? How was the trip?”

Severus shrugged. “Fine. It was . . . fine.” How to express his sense of dislocation? His sense that when he caught his reflection in the train window, he did not recognise himself?

“We’re looking at this summer as a family holiday,” Hermione said, “but I don’t know whether my parents will want to move back to the old house any time soon. Did I tell you that the MLE went through and cleaned the house of curses and traps?”

Severus nodded. “I think you would be wise to have someone independent go through it again, just in case. Bill Weasley might be able to do it, or he could recommend someone reliable.”

“Moody was with them when they did it, even though he’d retired again by then, so I’m pretty sure that it’s okay, but you’re right. It’s better safe than sorry. Gareth suggested the same thing, more or less, though he recommended Professor Dumbledore.”

“You have seen McGonagall?” The other wizard hadn’t mentioned that when he’d seen him.

“A couple times. I’m glad you came by today and not tomorrow, or you would have missed me. I’m meeting Harry, Ron, and a few other friends in London tomorrow afternoon and was planning to stay overnight at Grimmauld Place. But if you’ll be here, I can owl them and change that.”

“No. I do not plan to stay.” So she was seeing Weasley again. He didn’t know why that should bother him, except that Weasley was a bit of a fool and not at all suited to Hermione. “I should leave soon.”

“Do you have to?” Hermione asked. “You only just got here, and it was a long trip. Won’t you at least stay for dinner?”

“I should not impose.”

“Severus, you certainly wouldn’t be imposing. If you don’t want to for some reason, I will be disappointed, but you wouldn’t be imposing. Please stay.”

He hesitated. “If your parents wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not! I’ve told them all about you, and they’ve read the Prophet articles I saved. I think they’d be pleased to get to know you a bit.”

“All right. Thank you.” He quirked a slight smile. “I’d be pleased to get to know me a bit, too. I have no idea who I am any longer, Hermione. I feel . . . at sea.”

Hermione smiled at him and wrapped her arm around his. “All the more reason to stay for dinner, then. We can talk and you can start rediscovering Severus Snape. Besides, my parents are experiencing something similar, trying to sort out who they are after having lived as different people for almost a year. So they’ll understand better than you might think. We’ll all be happy if you stay.”

Severus felt something in him begin to unwind, Hermione’s warmth seemed to spread through him, and he started to relax. Very slowly and tentatively, he moved his hand down to take hers.

“I thought . . . when I thanked you for your friendship, I thought that was the end of it, the last time I would sit with you. I said good-bye.”

“And I still had hope you would live and we would be able to become better friends, out in the daylight and not shut up in the library.”

Severus looked away from her warm gaze. “Sometimes I wish I . . . I hope you understand, but sometimes I wish I hadn’t lived,” he whispered. He remembered lying with his head in her lap, delirious, certain he was dying. “I am not ungrateful to you. I simply don’t know how to live. And I remember too much. For other people, it all ended with Potter’s victory. It won’t ever end for me. I remember everything I’ve done. And some of it . . . I want to forget it. I don’t want to be that person. But I don’t know how to be anyone at all.”

“You’re my friend Severus,” Hermione said quietly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Start there with that. Then owl the Headmistress and give her your decision. And just go from there.”

She stood. “Let’s walk back. Dinner will be ready in a little while. And after dinner, we can have a glass of wine together out in the garden.” She tugged on his hand as he got to his feet. “It will be like I promised you.”

Together, they walked back to the house. Hermione led him through the front door, and when she looked up at him, met his eyes, and smiled, Severus found himself smiling back down at her. He and Hermione were friends. That was a good place to begin his new life. He felt Hermione’s hand in his. A very good place, indeed.

Note: I hope you have enjoyed this story. For more information about Death’s Dominion and my other fics, check out my blog (mmadfan.com) or my LiveJournal. There’s a link on my profile page to my blog.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. I really have appreciated it!

Update: There’s a now an additional Death’s Dominion one-shot called “Enter, Peacetime.” It’s set during chapters 29 and 30 of Death’s Dominion, features Alastor Moody and Severus Snape, and is posted here on TPP.

There’s also a Snape-centric sequel to Death’s Dominion, called A Long Vernal Season, and it’s available here on TPP, as well. If you would like to see how Severus learns to live his unexpected new life, you might enjoy it.

See what the nice people over at the SSHG Quiz gave me: