Gone for Good

This is a story by the great Marisol, a German FF writer whose stories can be found at http://www.harrypotter-xperts.de/fanfiction?author=17037

Translated from German into English by Muggline

Disclaimer: Neither Marisol nor Muggline are making any money out of this. Everything you recognise belongs to J.K.Rowling.

A/N: My heartfelt thanks go to ladyinthecloak, who beta-read this one in record time: you taught me more about English punctuation than any grammar school teacher ever did!

Chapter 9

Hermione heard the blood rushing in her ears while she stared at Snape.

He looked at her, but seemed not to see her at all.

She almost hoped that he would say something. Anything to break the horrific silence that had fallen onto the sitting room like a heavy cloak; but he remained as silent as she did.

Even if Hermione had been able to talk, she would not have known what to say. Every word, no matter how sincere, would have left a bitter taste. Therefore, she did the only thing she was able to do: she took several steps backwards until she reached the door.

He did nothing to stop her – somehow, he did not even seem to notice that she was about to go.

She, on the other hand, did not know whether she ought to be relieved or uncomfortable about this. Her stiff fingers pressed the handle down. It squeaked a little, and only then did he notice that she was standing at the door.

His empty gaze followed her as she stepped outside and turned without a word. For some strange reason, she was sure that he would be standing there for quite a while – stiff as a statue and just as hollow and lifeless.

oOoOoOoOo

In the weeks that followed, Hermione did what she always did to prevent thinking about things that gave her a headache: She drowned herself in her work as if her life depended on it. After all, it was an effective method to keep her mind off what had happened at Spinner's End. Unfortunately, however, it only helped until the day Ginny visited her at her London flat one evening to tell her that Snape had written them a letter.

"You will not believe it," Ginny said while plopping herself down on the sofa. "He wrote that he had been so busy these last few weeks filling orders for St. Mungo's and for the Apothecaries that he had no time to visit us. But he will come this weekend instead."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Really?" she asked. She had listened to her inner voice, which had told her not to tell Harry and Ginny about her visit. For once, because she knew that she would never manage to tell them what he had done and what had transpired afterwards, but also because she realised that the relationship between Snape and the Potters would be disturbed beyond repair if they knew what had happened that day.

"Yes, we could hardly believe it. I must admit that I secretly hoped that, eventually, he would act as if nothing had happened. I think he mainly did it for Al. During his last visit, I was under the impression that he cares a little for our baby."

"Speaking of them – where are the boys?" Hermione asked to buy herself some time. After all, Ginny knew her well enough to realise that the message had confused her.

"They're with Mom. " Ginny winked. "She insisted on taking the kids so I can relax a little. However, I have not told her that James' behaviour is dreadful today because I forbade him to paint a scar on his forehead to look like Daddy!" She giggled softly and Hermione dutifully managed a crooked grin. "I have done some shopping in Diagon Alley. " Ginny pointed at the shopping bags she had deposited next to her seat. "All the time I have been thinking that it would be great to be able to delve through the shops and buy some things undisturbed, but in the end, most of the things I bought are for the kids." She sighed with a mock irritable voice, but her beaming eyes gave her away.

"I have not been shopping for a long time," Hermione said, lost in thought. "Somehow, I never manage."

"Listen, I wanted to ask you whether you would like to come this weekend, too," Ginny suddenly said.

"Oh, I don't think that is a good idea, Ginny," Hermione threw in hastily. "It would only emphasise this stupid affair again unnecessarily, and you do not want that, do you? I am quite certain that I am the very last person Snape would like to meet. He would definitely not feel at ease in my presence. Just let the dust settle over this."

The redhead worried her lower lip absentmindedly. "You are right," she finally said. "It would not be such a good idea. Sorry, I did not give it too much thought. It's just – you have not been at our place for quite a while either. James keeps asking for you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, really. I will come by within the next few days, I promise. I miss the boys, too, but I have too much on my plate in the office at the moment."

"Do you have much work or do you make it for yourself?" Ginny asked, frowning. Then she wiggled her index finger in front of Hermione's face menacingly. "I know you, darling. And I cannot help the feeling that Snape is not the only person who talks his way out of things by using work as an excuse." She grinned.

Hermione managed a fake giggle while she poured some pumpkin juice for her friend. "I do have much work. Do you honestly believe that I would rather spend my time at the office than with you?"

"Well, you have always been quite special in setting your priorities for work and fun. It seems that they are just the same to you most of the time," Ginny replied, unmoved. She stayed a little longer, and Hermione was thankful to change the subject and relax somewhat.

Later, however, when she was alone again, her thoughts kept wandering of their own accord. She thought of that afternoon at Spinner's End, and she tried to fade out Snape's words, but the memory was clear and fresh as if she had heard them yesterday instead of some weeks ago. She did not like the empty and dead sound of his voice – which was strange somehow, given the fact that she had blurted out just moments before that she considered him dead inside.

One moment she caught herself wishing that she had not said all those things, in the next moment she thought of how he had forced his way into her mind and what he had seen there. She had a hard time deciding whether she despised him deeply or felt pity for him. Pity, so deep that she sometimes felt like crying. But she did not feel the tears in her throat or in her eyes. She felt them coming from some dark and secret place deep down inside, and she asked herself whether she ought to have said something. Maybe, she thought, her voice would have been like a piece of cloth wiping the dirt off a grimy window, to let a thin but precious ray of sunshine into the darkness that was his life.

oOoOoOoOo

Over the next few weeks, Hermione perfected the art of timing her visits at Harry and Ginny's house to never meet Snape at all costs. At first, she thought that he would visit them only at weekends, which would have made the whole thing quite easy. But sometimes he turned up on weekdays. Luckily, he never came unannounced, and so Hermione managed to find out about his next visit by skilfully leading her conversations with Ginny into that direction. At least, she thought so.

"Okay, what exactly is the matter with you?" Ginny asked her bluntly one day while they had tea in the Potters' kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"You make a fuss like Mundungus Fletcher. One could think you want to rob us. Every time you want to visit us, you ask these strange questions."

"Strange questions?" echoed Hermione, who held Albus Severus in her arm and caressed his hair.

"Yep, strange questions," Harry confirmed. "You ask whether we are alone or whether we expect someone for dinner, whether we have any plans for the evening – just spit it out, Hermione. We will find out anyway. Ginny is a master in getting people to admit things they wanted to keep to themselves, so you'd rather confess voluntarily."

Ginny grinned.

Hermione sighed and gave in. Subtlety has never been my forte, she thought and decided to give away some kind of half truth. "It is because of Snape. I don't think it would be good if we ran into each other. It is... erm... When we meet, there's always some fight in the air. I don't want you to put up with this, and to be honest, I do not want to put up with it myself either."

"You mean because of the day you eavesdropped on him? But Hermione, that was months ago! I must admit, one can never know how long he holds his grudges against people. However, I don't think that you have to hide or something."

"I know. But now that you seem to get along quite well again, I do not want to risk anything." At least that last sentence was true. Hermione had been happy to learn that Snape visited them quite often. Ginny had said that he was still somewhat reserved, but never unfriendly, let alone rude. Basically, they had not much to talk about, and it was obvious that his godson was the main reason for Snape's visits.

"I don't think that Severus would hold it against us if you were here by coincidence when he showed up. Not any more. Provided, of course, that you don't hide behind the sofa to eavesdrop." Harry grinned.

Hermione's smile never reached her eyes. She doubted that Harry was right. "Did he come out of his shell towards you?" she asked.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. "Well, we do not get philosophic or exchange our views about everything under the sun, but he only utters a spiteful comment about my heroism once every two weeks, and on the whole we get along quite well. His manners are most engaging when Al is around."

"Oh, you ought to see those two together," Ginny threw in with a giggle. "Al always gurgles when Severus takes him and Severus – I cannot describe it properly, but he always looks so content. Some days ago, Al was not very well. Severus had him on his arm, and Al threw up the whole porridge I had fed him before – all over Severus' robes. I was so embarrassed! But Severus stayed all calm. He put him down on the sofa very carefully, wiped Al's face clean with his bare hand and then Scourgified the whole mess."

"At Al's first birthday you will certainly see how his godfather behaves around him, Hermione." Harry laughed. "This will probably be the only day when you cannot avoid each other."

"But his birthday is months away," Hermione answered in a shock.

"Time flies," Ginny answered with a wink of an eye. Then she added, "And don't you dare chicken out of this. We'd be mortally offended if you don't show up just because you want to avoid meeting Snape."

Hermione shrugged, resigned. Secretly, she was even curious how Snape would behave around her and whether he would reveal that it might have been her words that brought him to seek contact with the Potters again. She did not know that she would see Snape again long before Al's birthday...

oOoOoOoOo

On a rainy day in early June, Hermione caught sight of Severus Snape's face on the last page of a newspaper while she passed by a newsstand on her way to work. She stopped with as much momentum as she had been walking before, causing another wizard, who had been walking behind her, to bump into her. "Sorry," she called out after the angry looking man. Then she rummaged in her cloak pockets for some small change and paid for the newspaper.

It was a paper named "Wulfric's Wonderful Week". Upon reading the title, something flared up in Hermione's memory, but she could not remember it immediately. Only when she looked at Snape's picture and read the name under the respective article, she knew immediately where she knew that magazine from.

Part of the paper's last page was dedicated to a column titled "What has become of...?". Although Hermione had not planned to read the article before her lunch break, her eyes already flew across the lines.

Bitter Medicine or Poisonous Truth?

Rita Skeeter

Hermione snarled angrily and crumpled the newspaper up. She knew that Rita Skeeter had stopped working for the Daily Prophet at the end of the war. She had not heard anything about her for quite a while until one of her colleagues had told her that Rita wrote for "Wulfric's Wonderful Week" lately, had a column there, libelled people and dragged them through the mud in the usual fashion.

"That rotten old..." puffed Hermione, although she could not have said why the article enraged her so. She knew very well that wizards and witches had divided opinions about Snape. However, no matter what could be said about him – and many of those things did not show him in a good light at all – she would wager everything she owned that Snape never willingly added anything but the required substances to his brews.

oOoOoOoOo

It was probably the first time ever that Hermione was not the last person to leave the office in the evening. Her colleagues were quite taken aback when, at one minute to five, she said good-bye in a hurry, tucked a crumpled newspaper under her arm, and swept out of the room.

At the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic, she contemplated for one moment whether she should Apparate, but then she decided to use one of the fireplaces to Floo. She had done this quite often, and James always shouted with joy when she appeared in the Potter's fireplace. One glance at her watch told her that Harry should have finished work, too, and would probably be at home. So she took some Floo powder, resolutely threw it into the fireplace, stepped into the flames and said, "Godric's Hollow, number twenty-four."

She felt the ashes burn inside her lungs when she reached her destination, and she saw Harry and Ginny on the sofa in the sitting room. Waving the newspaper impatiently, she shouted, "Hi, I'm sorry to burst in just like that. Did you read what that silly old cow wrote about Snape?"

Her two friends stared at her in surprise, and Ginny just managed to say, "Oh, Hermione!"

Then Hermione became conscious of another person in the room.

To her left, next to the window so she could not see him from the fireplace, stood Severus Snape with little Albus on his arm. He stared at her, and she stared back.

The newspaper fell from her slackened hand, and she realised that he must have seen her dramatic entrance.

She was sure that he asked himself what this was all about and – oh, wouldn't it be fun to explain that...?