Career Advice

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: Where would I be without Professor M McGonagall? Some chapters behind, for sure... She had an unexpected day off and what did she do? Well, beta-read this chapter, of course! Kudos to her and her grammar skills!

Chapter 27 – Career Advice

Weeks had gone by since Ginny had shown Hermione her memory. Hermione did not really expect that Severus would come and try to talk to her. Nevertheless, she kept flinching on those rare occasions when somebody did knock on her door. However, most visitors were neighbours, and once, to her great astonishment, it was Ron. He stood at her door, insecure and a little embarrassed, until she asked him to come in. Ron said that he had indeed meant what he had said the last time they had met, when he had assured her that he wanted to stay friends. After they had both overcome their initial reserve, the evening turned out rather nice.

To her immense relief, Hermione realized that Ron's company made her feel like she had in the old days when they and Harry had been the golden trio and their friendship had been more important than anything else. For one moment, they even thought about sending Harry a message asking him to come over, too, but they both knew that he had not left the house for days except in very urgent cases because Ginny was a few days before her due date and could not handle the two boys alone anymore.

"So what about you?" asked Ron, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he was sipping a butterbeer. "Did you meet someone?"

The question threw Hermione completely off track. When she stammered, "I... err... no," she was sure that he had realized how much this question bothered her, but he only said, "Oh, I'm sure you will. Very soon!"

Later in the evening, after he had given her a friendly peck on the cheek and left, she had the now-familiar feeling of emptiness again. Hermione had learnt to deal with the pain in the meantime. The stabbing, pulsating pain had slowly changed and become some kind of dull throb inside of her chest, and she was glad that she managed to fade Severus out of her thoughts most of the time. But every time she was reminded of him, the unfiltered memories came back, and they were accompanied by that silly, naïve hope that he would talk to her.

Maybe, she thought while she was slowly dozing into sleep, maybe he will come knocking on my door some day...

She was only fractions of a second away from sleep when she remembered her mother who had some pearls of wisdom for every situation. Hermione did not know why this particular saying – her mother's favourite – came to her mind just now: always expect the unexpected!. Then her eyelids dropped one last time, and she fell into dreamless sleep.

sSsSsSs

"I am happy that you could find the time, Miss Granger. The fifth-years are very excited already," said Minerva McGonagall and looked at her former pupil with a warm smile.

Some days ago, Hermione had received a letter from Hogwarts, asking her to tell the fifth-year students about her work. It was career advice week, and while Hermione was having tea with Professor McGonagall in the Headmistress's office, she thought about the time when she had been a fifth-year herself with Harry and Ron and they had gathered information about different professions. Back then, Hermione had not been very keen on pursuing a career in Magical law, but after the war, she had opted for this path without hesitation.

"To be honest, I really don't know what the students might want to hear," Hermione admitted while sipping the hot brew.

"Oh, I am sure that you are going to do very well and manage to interest some of them in the field of Magical law, my dear. Just tell them about the aspects of your work that you like in particular and how you spend your average working day."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. After assuring the Headmistress that Harry would have loved to come to talk about his job as an Auror but had stayed at home out of consideration for Ginny, they went on chatting about school life at Hogwarts. Minerva was just complaining about the alarming rate of decrease of the educational standards when there was a knock on the door and a horribly familiar voice that Hermione had almost forgotten croaked, "Peeves has dismantled the crystal chandeliers on the fifth floor, Headmistress!" Argus Filch, unkempt as ever, hobbled into the room and gave Hermione a dirty and suspicious look.

"For heaven's sake, Filch, not now!" McGonagall answered in an exasperated tone. But the old caretaker answered, "A student girl has been injured. You have to throw him out, Professor. This time, he has gone too..."

With astonishing agility for her age, Minerva rose from her seat, pushed Filch aside and told Hermione, "Please excuse me for a moment. I will be back shortly!" Then she hurried out of the office and left Hermione alone. With a soft smile on her lips, Hermione looked towards the door through which the Headmistress had disappeared. Some things, she thought, would never change at Hogwarts.

Hermione had been looking around a little when she heard a soft voice behind her. "It must be some years since I've seen you in this office!"

She jerked around sharply and started at Albus Dumbledore's portrait. He had been asleep when she arrived, but now he rubbed his eyes merrily and beamed at her. "Professor Dumbledore!" she stammered and got up to approach the wall where his portrait was hung.

"Minerva already told me that you agreed to come," he said in a friendly voice and winked at her. "How are you, Miss Granger?"

"I... I am well, Sir, thank you," whispered Hermione. She had almost reciprocated, but then she remembered that it might be somewhat tactless to ask a dead man after his health.

"I heard that you have done very well in your field, my dear," he said, and she thought she saw a proud twinkle in his blue eyes. Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair and tried to answer, but before she could say something, he continued. "Honestly speaking, anything else would have been a big surprise to me. While you were a student, you already gave proof that you own a brilliant mind and have your heart in the right place."

"I... thanks," whispered Hermione, embarrassed and pleased at the same time. She had not seen Dumbledore's portrait since the night of the victory over Voldemort, and as she looked in his kind and knowing eyes, she suddenly felt the urge to ask him something and blurted out, "Sir? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, my dear," was his friendly answer.

She stared down at her hands and whispered, "If you knew somebody who had a dream, a dearest wish, and you knew that this wish could by no means come true, what advice would you give to that person?"

When she looked up again, she immediately knew what Harry had meant when he said that Dumbledore's eyes looked as if they could see right into people. He looked at her for a while, then he said, "I would like to tell you a little tale about impossibility, Miss Granger: Many years ago, a young American Muggle author had a dream. He wanted to become a writer and publish his work which he was very proud of. Full of confidence, he sent it to a publisher, but he received a devastating answer: The publisher wrote that Mr. Bach had no talent whatsoever, that his story was useless and utter trash.

Downhearted, the young man wanted to give up his dream, but there was this burning spark inside of him that he could not bury. So he sent his work to another publisher and got the same answer. Everyone he asked gave him the advice to give up his dream, but the young man simply couldn't help it; he had to cling to it. 'It's impossible,' people said, 'give it up'. But he kept sending his story to publishers over and over again. He told himself that nothing is impossible if you just believe in it."

"What happened?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

Dumbledore smiled. "The last publisher finally agreed to print the book. Richard Bach sold millions of copies of his story Jonathan Livingston Seagull and became a famous author all over the world... not only among Muggles." His last words had been accompanied by a twinkle and he met Hermione's astonished gaze with a warm smile.

"I know Jonathan Livingston Seagull!" she exclaimed. "As a child, I loved it so much I nearly read it to shreds!"

"I am not surprised, Miss Granger," he answered calmly. "So I guess you know exactly what I would say to someone who dreams an – at least in his or her opinion – impossible dream."

Later on, when Hermione strolled along the corridors of Hogwarts, she felt as if a balloon had been inflated inside of her that made her float lightly and elatedly, and she could not help but smile. No matter what happens, she thought, I will never let anyone destroy my firm belief in myself, my confidence and my never-ending supply of patience again. Not even myself.

SsSsSsSs

There still was some time before the career advice would start, and so Hermione decided to roam the castle for old times' sake. Wandering around, she took a glimpse into empty classrooms, admired paintings and had a chat with Nearly Headless Nick who had zoomed away into a suit of armour, sending it to the floor with a loud crash when he spotted her. "My dear, who have we here!" he shouted and took her hand – it felt as if she had immersed her fingers in iced water.

After that, she visited the library and even managed to get a smile out of the ever grumpy Madam Pince. She realised that most students she met in the corridors would turn around to get a better look at her and whisper behind her back.

"You think it was her?"

"D'you think Harry Potter will come, too?"

During her round tour of the castle, she had almost unconsciously led her steps towards the dungeons, and on a spur of the moment, she decided to visit the classroom where she'd always had her Potions classes.

Upon reaching the dungeons, it felt as if time had come to a halt. Hermione could have sworn she heard Harry and Ron whispering behind her, complaining about the fact that they would have to spend full two hours with Snape and the Slytherins.

When she entered the room, the feeling became even stronger. It was as if the overwhelming ticking of time would conjure the memories from days long gone. Hermione's fingertips caressed the workbenches, and she took a look at some of the burn marks on the wooden surfaces, most of which were probably an eternal testimony to Neville's Potions skills. Then she looked up to the blackboard from which she had eagerly copied the ingredients back then. She almost thought she could hear Snape's voice, talking to her in a quiet, velvet-like tone that made the hair on her neck stand on end. It took her quite a while to realise that it was not a memory, but a very real sound. She whirled around.

He stepped out of the shadows, slow and supple, and once more she had the impression that he could melt into them in a rather eerie fashion. To her own surprise, Hermione remained perfectly calm. She had been imagining this meeting for weeks: how she'd be upset, how her heart would beat frantically when she'd meet him again. In spite – or maybe because – of this anticipation, she was cool as a cucumber.

"Hello, Severus," she said calmly. "I guess Professor McGonagall has asked you to tell the students something about Potions and the possible career paths, like working in an apothecary." Hermione even managed a small smile while she slowly leaned on one of the desks. She noticed that he looked gaunt and a little sick. Severus, on the other hand, observed her from behind his impenetrable mask and nodded silently.

Hermione let her gaze wander through the room and said, "When I came to this school many years ago, without the slightest clue what I would have to deal with, I was afraid of you. All the other teachers liked me. They were happy about every correct answer I could reel off, but you offered me nothing but disdain." In his face, a muscle twitched almost imperceptibly, but he still said nothing.

When Hermione continued, she looked down to her lap. "I did not lose my fear until I realized that Dumbledore trusted you and that you were working for him. You always acted your part impeccably, Severus."

To her great surprise, he approached her in a few slow steps and leaned on the same desk. They stood like this for a while. When he finally spoke, his voice was silent like a breeze. "I cannot remember a time when I did not play a role. I played them for a long time, and I played them so intensively that I lost myself somewhere along the way."

Once more, his words broke her heart, and she would have loved to extend her hand and touch him. However, her instinct told her that he was doing something he probably had never done before and that any interruption would make him stop talking.

"I own one single mirror, a small, stained thing. I only have it because I need to stare at it every now and then to make sure that it's really me, that I still exist. It seems that I always went along the roads others had designed for me, and it does not matter whether their name was Dumbledore or Voldemort. But if you keep walking other people's roads, you inevitably lose your own way, your own self."

His words were void of bitterness or hate, and for one moment, he granted Hermione a glimpse into the utter complexity of his soul. Severus Snape was a lost man. A man who kept trudging in the dark, searching his place in life, not even knowing what it was that he was searching for.

"How can you expect anything from me, Hermione, when I don't know what to expect from myself?" This time, he looked at her. Long and penetrating. When she met his gaze, she noticed a strange flickering in his black eyes.

"But I don't expect anything from you, Severus," she said gently, and realized with astonishment that she really felt it was the truth. "I don't expect anything, and I don't want anything. On the contrary, I am offering you my friendship. You don't have to take it if you don't want to. It's up to you." With these words, she extended her hand towards him.

"Sometimes," she whispered, "a friend can help you to find the way that you've lost."