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December 1998
Just over seven months after the final battle, two weeks after he was discharged from St. Mungos, one hour after the conclusion of his trial and sentencing, and 0.1 second after he passed through the magic suppressing wards of Azkaban, Severus Snape’s occlumency walls came crashing down for the first time since November 1, 1981.
The grief hit him first, as fresh and sharp as it had been the day he had locked it away; hours after holding Lily’s dead body, then falling at Dumbledore’s feet in supplication.
Lily is dead.
The grief was followed swiftly by an all-encompassing shame. As the walls crumbled, the gale of emotion swept through him and knocked him to his knees.
She is dead because of me.
He wailed in agony, then began to hyperventilate, bringing his head to rest on the cold stone of the Azkaban entranceway.
He had felt the muted versions of these emotions, late at night after waking from a nightmare or after a few too many drinks. They were a dull ache deep in his chest, a cold draft that slipped through the cracks in his occlumency walls. He knew how to manage the emotions in small doses. But this, this he could not handle.
The guard kicked him in the ribs. Hard.
Severus didn’t get up.
The guard kicked him again, shouting something indecipherable over the gasping sobs and the thundering of 18 years of suppressed memory and emotion surging through his mind.
The guard grabbed him by the collar of his prison robes and yanked him up. Severus stumbled again. The guard dragged him down the hallway and shoved him into a cell, not caring when Severus knocked his head against the stone floor and stilled.
Severus floated in and out of consciousness. Half-memories, half-dreams tormented him.
Images of himself prostrated over Lily, dead on the nursery floor, the Dark Lord standing over them both, laughing the high-wheezing laugh that he gained after returning to his grotesque new form.
He was flying low through the streets of muggle London, slinging Sectumsempra curses at everyone in his way, casting a strong blasting spell at the abutment of a bridge, then rocketing away as he watched muggles scramble.
He was at the top of the Astronomy tower.
“ Severus, please.”
“Avada Kedavra”
He began to creep closer to wakefulness, and his dreams began to fade and the memories took over.
He was adding a slow-acting potion of his invention to the water supply of a small hamlet in Wales. He had returned once a week to watch as the muggles became increasingly paranoid and violent, culminating in a mass of astonishing murder-suicides that had baffled the local constabulary.
He was flying over a bridge again, this time in the Northwest of England, watching Thorfinn Rowle blast the foundation. Severus threw a stunning spell at a muggle woman and watched her fall unconscious into the deep waters below. He threw a killing curse, aiming away from the falling muggles, but at the last moment he dodged out of the way of some falling rubble and the deadly spell hit a muggle man right in the chest.
He was fully awake now, and his re-established conscience began to panic. It didn’t matter that the Dark Lord had instructed him to do these things, nor that Albus had instructed him to comply. It didn’t matter that he had told himself it was a mercy, the muggles wouldn’t have survived the fall from the bridge. It didn’t matter that each night that summer as the potion was taking effect he had wasted away on a combination of cheap vodka and dreamless sleep.
The excuses didn’t matter, his remorse didn’t matter. He had created the potion, his wand had cast those curses, and while so doing he had had to occlude any part of himself that found his actions anything more than mildly distasteful. Severus had locked his horror away behind his occlumency, leaving only the facts of what he had done in the front of his mind to present to the Dark Lord, then Albus. Pitiless, they had each called him, the Dark Lord with glee and Albus with a calculating disdain. Was he pitiless if the pity was buried so deep that it couldn’t be found?
Pitiless, friendless, spiteful, cruel, murderer . His worst traits had flourished during those years. He had become them, personified.
But now, without the buffer of his occlumency, he could feel the pity, the grief, and the nagging agony of remorse, constant and throbbing. It hurt .
It would be better to concentrate on his physical ailments. He was used to those, he could endure the discomfort of his physical being. Without opening his eyes he mentally catalogued the parts of his body that were in pain.
When he had finished he slowly opened his eyes. The small window in the topmost corner of his cell was letting in weak winter daylight, and the migraine living in the front of his skull protested fiercely.
He forced himself to keep his eyes open, focusing on the sharp stabbing of the headache with one thought in head.
How the fuck am I going to make it through ten years of this?
Winter 1999
Severus woke to the screams of one of his neighbours. It was later than he usually woke, and his breakfast was already deposited by his cell door, cold and congealed. He hadn’t slept well the night before. He rarely slept well, but this time a recurring nightmare that he hadn’t had since childhood had jolted him awake; his father loomed over him, menacing and drunk, his hand pulled back into a fist. Severus could hear his mother crying in the next room then the fist swung forward with unnatural speed. Really, it wasn’t so much a nightmare as a recurring memory that visited him at night.
Severus suspected that today might be his birthday.
His cell door clanged open.
“Get up, Death Eater, it's time for your shower.”
Two guards stood outside Severus’ cell. Severus was slow to sit up from his cot, still groggy from getting his sleep cut short.
Each morning, shortly after the guards brought the first meal of the day, one prisoner was escorted down the hall to what Severus assumed must be a shower. Severus always watched, keeping track of who was also living on his floor. Lucius Malfoy, both Lestrange brothers, Rowle, Dolohov, and Amycus Carrow had each passed his cell, then returned, 15 minutes later, shivering and wet.
“Ah, I see you are unfamiliar with the concept of a shower. It is when you wash that greasy mane of yours. Have you ever tried it?” Severus glared at the guard who had spoken, a short, weedy man with a pointy, rat face that he vaguely recognized as a former student. Definitely a Gryffindor. His glare didn’t seem to have the same effect as it had in the dungeons, as the guard sneered back at him.
“Get moving, we don’t have all day,” the second guard pulled him off the cot by his hair. “Disgusting,” he grumbled, wiping his hand on his uniform trousers.
“Whose fault is that?” Severus grumbled under his breath.
“What was that? Death Eater scum.” the rat faced Gryffindor guard shoved him out the door, “Did you think this would be Malfoy Manor? Elves waiting on you hand and foot? Get moving!”
Severus stumbled down the hallway in the direction he had seen the other prisoners go. He surreptitiously glanced in the cells as he passed. These prisoners did not pass by Severus’ cell to get to the showers, so he did not know who was imprisoned here.
He saw a few low level snatchers, Yaxley, Rookwood, then almost gasped when he saw a familiar flash of long blond hair and grey eyes peering out of the cell at the end of the hall. Draco? The last Severus had heard the youngest Death Eater had been in a ministry holding facility awaiting his trial. As far as he knew, Draco hadn’t committed any crimes after the events of the Astronomy tower, and everything leading up to that event had been done under extreme duress and before his coming of age. If he had been incarcerated then the trials must be going truly horribly. It hadn’t mattered that Severus had been the one to kill Dumbledore, Draco had still paid for it. Severus felt a fresh stab of grief for the people he had failed, and automatically reached for his occlumency shields to push it back down. When they didn’t come he hastily hid behind his hair so Draco couldn’t read the sorrow he was sure was evident all over his face.
Draco steadily watched Severus pass, his face betraying no emotions.
The shower room was tiny, and the water was ice cold. A wall dispenser produced a trickle of a harsh, unscented body wash. Severus quickly washed, then tested the other wall dispenser, which seemed to contain shampoo. Empty. He tried the body wash again, and scrubbed at his scalp.
Just as he started rinsing, the shower turned off automatically. Violently shivering, Severus dried his body with his dirty uniform, wiping away the excess soap, then put it back on. The guards escorted him back to his cell. Draco didn’t look at him as he passed.
Spring 1999
Severus sat on his cot and counted the stones in the walls. 93 large stones made up the wall across from his bed; 102 made up the wall his cot was pushed against; 59 made up the front of the cell, above and to the left of the door; and 122 along the back wall.
Severus took a short break to pace the length of his cell 20 times, then laid back on his cot and counted the stones in his ceiling. The ceiling stones were much smaller, and it took his eyes some time to focus before he could begin to count. 287 stones in the ceiling.
The back wall had obviously been repaired recently, and not very well. It was likely one of the walls damaged during the mass breakout several years before. While the other walls were ancient but sturdy, this wall was hobbled together from the rubble leftover from the blast, leaving large cracks that let in the bitter wind of the North Sea.
Severus began to count the cracks. There were 73.
Summer 1999
Severus prided himself on his grasp of the darker side of human nature. As a spy, he felt he had become quite adept at discerning exactly which self-serving motivations his fellow death eaters were most likely to act on.
Tosspot, which was the name that Severus used in his head for the stupidest guard, tripped Severus on his way into the shower. It seemed that Tosspot had never grown out of his childhood bully phase. He seemed to derive enjoyment out of a physical humiliation of the prisoners. Severus suspected that he wasn’t smart enough to do much else.
Severus fell heavily over Tosspot’s outstretched leg, and smashed his knee against the lip of the shower. He felt something pop.
Ratface and Tosspot chuckled as they watched Severus crawl through the rest of his shower and limp back to his cell.
Autumn 1999
Severus’ days fell into a rhythm. In the morning he woke to screams. He laid in bed, focusing on the pain in his knee, the stench of his clothes, and the autumn chill permeating through his cell. When his breakfast, plain porridge, arrived he would drag himself across the cell, eat half, then sit by the door to see who would be passing by for their shower that day. Unused to any physical activity as he was, he found that when it was his turn to shower he preferred to have something left to eat when he returned to his cell, limping, frigid and still completely wet. If it was not his turn to shower he would finish his breakfast after he saw the other prisoner return from the showers.
After his breakfast he would count the stones in the wall, the stones in the ceiling, then the cracks in the back wall.
If it was a good day he would pace in his cell until his knee protested. If it was a bad day he would lay in bed and ruminate on his sins. He would list the people who had suffered because of him, then the people who had died because of him. He knew some of the names of the muggles who he had killed from the newspaper reports that Dumbledore clipped for him.
He had more bad days than good days.
It had been Rabastan Lestrange’s shower today, and Severus had just finished his porridge and was just starting to settle into his counting when the rat faced guard rattled the bars on the front of his cell.
“Letter for you, Professor.” Ratface sneered and spat out the last word. “From a bird, too, looks like. Can’t imagine why she’d be writing to you, though.” He tossed it to the ground at Severus’ feet.
Severus hadn’t even realised he could get mail.
17 October 1999
Dear Professor,
Would you be able to advise me on some improvements for the standard memory regenerative potion as described in Advanced Potions Making? I seem to recall that the improvements that you added to your copy of the text significantly increased the strength of the potion, and the version as described in the textbook is not potent enough for my purposes.
Any advice you can provide would be most welcome. Please see my notes on the potion, attached.
Sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger
P.S. I am very sorry that your trial went the way it did. It was truly a disgrace. Although I was astonished by the crimes you were forced to commit in the name of keeping your cover, you do not deserve to be in Azkaban after everything you did for us. Harry was
Severus crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the corner of his cell, not caring to read what Miss Granger had to say about the Boy Wonder.
The little know-it-all had indeed included her notes on the memory regenerative potion, taking up 3 rolls of parchment with her distinctive, tiny writing. His head twinged with the memory of grading her interminable, wordy essays. He crumpled those parchments up as well, crawled onto his cot and went back to counting the stones in the wall.
Twenty minutes later he decided that while the tension headache and eye strain from reading Miss Granger’s potions essay might be an unwelcome change from the screams of his neighbours and biting wind curling through the 73 cracks in his back wall, it was, at least, a change. He ignored the letter and its postscript about Potter Jr., and unrolled the parchment.
Severus read through Miss Granger’s notes three times. She would never be a potions genius, but her grasp of potions theory was much better than most of her former classmates, or really, most of his former students.
He spent a thoroughly average three hours considering the question that she posed: How can the memory regenerative potion be improved to uncover suppressed or vague memories?
It was not a particularly interesting question, since he had already improved this potion as much as he wished to. He preferred to suppress memories rather than remember them better. But more than anything he needed something new to think about, so he cross referenced a list of potion ingredients that had memory restorative effects in his head.
When the guard arrived with his dinner, Severus asked for parchment and a quill so that he could craft his reply.
Miss Granger,
While I do not find incarceration precisely to my tastes, one benefit is that I no longer have to read your long-winded musings on potions ingredients.
S. Snape
Severus almost smirked, but found that his lips did not remember how to twist in that direction. Instead, he folded his response and addressed it to Miss Granger.
Several hours later, Severus crawled to the corner of the room and picked up the crumpled up piece of parchment containing Miss Granger’s letter. He smoothed it out on his knee and finished reading the postscript.
Harry was distraught that his testimony wasn’t enough to keep you out of that horrid place. He really believed that sharing the memories of your discussions with Dumbledore would be enough to sway the Wizengamot. I’m so sorry that we couldn’t do more, I’m sorry that we didn’t trust you, and I’m sorry that I left you bleeding on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. You deserve more.
HG
She was wrong. He didn’t deserve more.
He crumpled up the letter again, but kept it in his hand as he fell into a fitful sleep.
Another letter arrived a few days later.
21 October 1999
Dear Professor,
I will be more succinct. How can I improve the strength of this potion? I know you know, and I am desperate.
Sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger
Dear Miss Granger,
I seem to recall that your co-conspirator already had my notes on how to improve the potions listed in that particular book. Surely he would lend it to you, although do try to repress his urge to test out the marginalia, as I am not currently in a position to perform the counter-curses on his unsuspecting victims.
S. Snape
28 October 1999
Dear Professor,
Your textbook was destroyed during the final battle. Harry hid it in the Room of Hidden Things after he ‘tested the marginalia’ several years ago. Crabbe cast Fiendfyre when he came upon us in that room while we were searching for an errant bit of Voldemort’s soul. I don’t believe the textbook made it out in time.
Once again, I am imploring you to help me improve this potion. Professor Slughorn insists that the textbook version is perfectly adequate, which it is, but I am in need of something more than adequate. I need a potion that is exceptional, and I believe you are the only person who can help me.
Sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger
Miss Granger,
Flattery will not help you here. I am well aware of Professor Slughorn’s belief in the adequacy of the textbook potions, as I endured his teaching for 7 years myself.
Surely you had all of my additions memorised. Was it not your practice to retain and recite aloud all of the information you read?
S. Snape
1 November 1999
Professor,
You seem determined not to help me, so I will take my questions elsewhere. Damocles Belby, perhaps? Would he have enough generalised Potions knowledge to help me with this? Or perhaps you could recommend a colleague that would be more accommodating?
I did not get a chance to memorise your textbook additions since Harry wouldn’t let me touch the blasted thing. He took offence that I disapproved of your marginalia.
Sincerely
Hermione J. Granger
Miss Granger,
Belby is a moron who stumbled into his success with the Wolfsbane potion. You might as well contact Ronald Weasley.
If it will stop your incessant letters.
The textbook version of the potion is not only adequate, but much preferable for the average potioneer. The improvements prolong the length of time that is required for completing this brew while significantly reducing the shelf life to such a degree that it would be highly impractical for regular use.
However, since you insist on something exceptional, you will find that the changes listed below will allow the drinker to remember every memory from their lifetime with the same clarity as they would remember a memory from that same day. This clarity of memory lasts for approximately 12 hours, and is most commonly used when one is preparing their memories for a pensieve.
For maximum efficiency you will need to extend the brewing time by approximately 3 months, due to the nature of the additional ingredients. Full instructions are enclosed.
S. Snape
Severus painstakingly wrote out the instructions for his improved memory potion, then neatly folded and addressed the parchment so that it would be ready to send when the Ratface came to drop off his next meal.
The next letter arrived swiftly, on paper hastily ripped out of a muggle notebook. The edges were frayed from where they had been separated from then spiral binding. Miss Granger had hastily scrawled a note,
Thank you, Professor. I will let you know how it goes.
Sincerely,
HJG
No need.
S. Snape
Winter 2000
Severus found that he regretted his final note to Miss Granger. He found that his second solitary, miserable winter in Azkaban was worse than his first. The misery, when it was new, kept his mind busy as he pushed and worried at it constantly. The darkness of this second winter had an emptier feeling to it.
A feeling that maybe if his name was no longer spoken he would cease to exist. And maybe when that time came he would just be a ghost, haunting Ratface and Tosspot.
Maybe if he had a letter to look forward to it would have been better, just something to prove that one person on the outside remembered that he was still breathing.
14 March 2000
Dear Professor,
I am so sorry to bother you again. Unfortunately the potion did not work for my purposes. Do you have any suggestions for adjusting the potion for use on muggles?
Sincerely,
HJG
Dear Miss Granger,
I truly hope you are not planning on giving your potion to muggles. The unauthorised use of potions on muggles is a crime that carries a minimum sentence of 5 years in Azkaban, which you should be well aware of since you were in attendance at my sentencing. Are you hoping for a cell next to mine? I assure you I will not be more amenable to answering your questions in person.
S. Snape
Maybe he wasn’t a ghost quite yet.
18 March 2000
Dear Professor,
Hypothetically, how might you adjust this potion for use on muggles?
Sincerely,
HJG
Dear Miss Granger,
I cannot in good conscience give you this information.
Snape
____________________________________________
21 March 2000
Dear Professor,
Based on my attendance at your sentencing, I didn’t realise you had a good conscience.
From a purely academic perspective, do you know of a reference that would describe how one might adjust potions based on the strength, or lack thereof, of a patient’s magical core? I find the theory very interesting but I have not been able to find any information in the Hogwarts library. Nor do I remember you discussing this in class. It seems like an oversight.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Dear Miss Granger,
It is certainly not an oversight. It is highly unethical, not to mention illegal, to give potions to muggles. I do not discuss such inadvisable activities with impressionable school children.
Magical core is not the issue, but the nature of the ingredients. There are magical ingredients that muggles cannot see or interact with in nature, so their use in a potion would render that potion ineffective if ingested by muggles.
S. Snape
1 April 2000
Dear Professor,
Thank you! That is actually quite helpful! Can you recommend a text for further reading on this topic? I have cross referenced some herbology and magical creatures texts with notes detailing which ingredients would not be usable, but I am struggling with coming up with replacements. As you noted many times in my school days, I often struggle with the experimentation portion of potions work. Since this is a new concept for me, I’d like a stronger foundation in the theory before I test it out on, hypothetically test it out, try it for myself.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
P.S. I tried to send this letter several weeks ago, but I was informed that you had reached your monthly letter allowance and that I would have to wait to send it until the first of the month. I didn’t realise that there was a limit to the number of letters that you could receive per month. Please forgive me for taking up so many of your allotted letters! I am sure you would much rather hear from your friends than from me. Perhaps I could schedule a visit instead?
Dear Ms. Granger,
My other correspondences are infrequent. Most of my acquaintances are either dead or in prison with me.
I am considered a ‘high risk’ prisoner, and as such I have not been granted the privilege of receiving visitors. You will have to make do with keeping your badgering to 3 letters per month.
I will not be involved with your seemingly increasingly desperate plans to poison muggles.
S. Snape
9 April 2000
Dear Professor,
Only 3 letters a month and no visitors? What is wrong with the wizarding world that they can completely ignore the fact that prisoners should have basic human rights? I had thought that they had learned their lesson after the first war, with so many sent to Azkaban without a trial, but so many of the trials this time were a sham, and now you barely have the option to speak with a solicitor to advocate on your behalf! Prison reform in the wizarding world seems to begin and end with removal of the Dementors. I will be speaking to Kingsley about this. The muggle prison system has many flaws, but it is still leaps and bounds better than what we have.
Can you provide me with some additional details about the conditions in Azkaban? Based on my preliminary reading it appears that, besides the removal of dementors, there had been no major prison reform or penal reform since 1908. I’d like to have the full picture when I speak to Kingsley.
Surely you can’t think that I have nefarious schemes for this potion. I will make sure it is completely safe before I give it to anyone.
In truth, it is for my parents. I obliviated them just before the ministry fell, and sent them to live in Australia. They have no memory of me, nor of their true lives in England. Reversal has been more difficult than I anticipated. They are my only family, and they don’t even know who I am. I need to do this, and I don’t care about the consequences.
I came across a reference that a strong memory enhancement potion prior to a counter-spell could help restore tricky obliviated memories, but as you now know, the standard memory enhancement potions have not worked on my muggle parents.
Headmistress McGonagall had the Hogwarts elves pack up your belongings and put them in an unused storage room in the castle until you are released. Would you allow me to take a look through your book collection? Surely there is something there that would help me with my potion problem. I promise I will be very careful with them.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
It is Azkaban, Miss Granger, not the Ritz.
You will find Mundane Flora in Potions and Poultices will assist you with your task. It should be shelved in the section of my collection where I keep references on rare and alternative ingredients, although I imagine the elves have not maintained my cataloguing system. There are some additional resources in this section of my library that may also be useful for your project. I would suggest that you begin by looking into using Essence of Rosemary, and you will need to find a replacement for the Jobberknoll feathers.
I have not adjusted this potion for muggle use, so you will need to work through the efficacy trials yourself. Since I did not teach you during your NEWT training I suspect you have not received any instruction on establishing an adequate experimental potions process. You will find some useful articles on this topic filed with my NEWT lesson plans.
Your parents are safe, that is the most important thing.
Sincerely,
S. Snape
28 April 2000
Dear Professor,
Thank you for letting me use your books. Mundane Flora in Potions and Poultices was extremely helpful! The books are boxed up by topic, so I have been able to find some useful related texts.
You were correct to assume that Slughorn did not train us in how to conduct potions efficacy trials. I imagine that he had similar lesson plans when you were a student? Truly, I wouldn’t be surprised if his lesson plans were the same when Tom Riddle was his student. Your NEWT lesson plans looked fascinating, by the way. I wish you had been here to teach us.
From your notes it seems that potions trials can take up to 4 years. Do you think that will be the case for this potion? I am so anxious to speak to my parents again and 4 years seems like such a horribly long wait.
I don’t know that Slughorn spends much time working through the rigorous process of potions trials, so I don’t think he will be much help as I work through the trial process. Would you be amenable to continuing to answer my questions through the mail?
The Headmistress sends her regards, and told me to tell you that the Slytherin team is pitiful this year.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Dear Miss Granger,
You may write to me with your questions.
An extensive potion trial for a brand new potion can take up to 4 years. Since your potion is not brand new, just being modified, it is more likely that your trial will take 1-2 years.
If you see the Headmistress you can tell her that I will trust her judgement on the Slytherin team when Nifflers fly.
S. Snape
Autumn 2000
Severus found that time passed much more quickly when he had three letters to look forward to each month. Miss Granger was a regular correspondent, and filled her long letters with questions and theories about her potions research, and even occasionally asked him questions about developing spells and countercurses. Having someone to talk to about these topics reminded Severus of the years before Voldemort returned when he had the time and inclination to attend academic conferences. It was nice to occasionally have a pleasant diversion from his isolation.
Do you get a chance to interact with any other prisoners? Hermione had asked in her last letter. I’ve been reading studies done by Muggle psychologists who have been studying prisoners and the long term effects of isolation have been found to be extremely harmful.
He never responded to her queries on Azkaban conditions. He didn’t want to waste the few nice hours he had three times a month by feeling sorry for himself.
The burning guilt that he had felt his first months in Azkaban was still present, but he found that when he had something else to occupy his thoughts, the rehashing of all of his sins didn’t overwhelm him the way it had in the beginning.
23 December 2000
Happy Christmas, Professor.
Since the laws still restrict packages to Azkaban, you will have to be satisfied with a paper-based gift this year. I’ve enclosed a fascinating research paper by an Australian potioneer and cursebreaker who I met at a conference this past summer. I would be interested to know what you think.
Enjoy!
Hermione
The article that Hermione included with her letter really was fascinating. He read over it multiple times, considering the implications of the new research, imagining the conversations and questions he could have discussed if he had been at the conference.
Underneath the article was a large, green and red envelope. Severus opened the envelope to find a pop-up card depicting the Hogwarts Great Hall, decorated for Christmas. As he opened the card, a miniature Hagrid hefted an oversized Christmas tree into a corner, while Filius and Minerva levitated the baubles into place. It was a scene he had witnessed every Christmas since he was 11, and the memory of the familiar scene struck him like a blow to the heart.
How had Hermione found this card? Magic didn’t work within the walls of Azkaban, so it had to be completely muggle in construction. Surely no shop would sell such an object.
Had she made it herself? Or commissioned it specifically for him? Severus couldn’t imagine that there was a large demand for non-magical cards with magical settings. He realised that this card must have been created with him in mind.
Severus’ already fragile emotions spilled into actual tears. He instinctively reached for his occlumency walls, and when he didn’t find them he buried his face in his pillow. How ironic that the most thoughtful Christmas gift he had received in years came while he was in prison, and from a former student that he had once found to be intolerable.
15 January 2001
Dear Professor,
I’ve attached a clipping from the Daily Prophet regarding some movement in the Wizengamot regarding improvements in Azkaban conditions. It isn’t much, but I trust that this will be a small step towards more humane treatment for you.
The clipping was a short paragraph describing a Wizengamot ruling that the mail limit for prisoners had been lifted. Prisoners could now receive unlimited letters and small packages of a limited list of non-magical items, as long as they weighed no more than 1 kg.
Movement on the back of the clipping caught his eye. The clipping had snipped through most of the picture, but Severus watched as feminine feet in pointy heels twisted to disapparate then reappear a few seconds later in front of a storefront in what looked to be Diagon Alley. The caption read “Wedding bells on the horizon? The Golden Girl and current paramour were seen leaving Viola’s Bridal Boutique on” The rest of the caption was cut off.
Severus’ heart gave a small jolt. He had heard the moniker ‘Golden Girl’ referring to Hermione several times during his convalescence. He had thought it ridiculous at the time since anyone who had seen the brown-nosing, shrill, little nag in his class would hardly classify her as Golden.
She had never mentioned a fiance in her letters, but then again she barely mentioned any news of the outside world outside of potion and spell creation theories and prison conditions. It wasn’t as if they were friends, it wasn’t as if she confided in him.
“Perish the thought” he said out loud. Then he said it again, louder this time so that it would really sink in.
Severus watched the image cycle for several more minutes. He traced the delicate line of the woman’s ankle. It was a beautiful ankle, he had to admit. He wouldn’t go so far to call its owner Golden, but if someone else wanted to, well, he wouldn’t snort in derision.
Two weeks later one of the guards, (who Severus had dubbed Knobstick) tossed the newest issue of Potions Monthly through the bars of Severus’ cell. He hadn’t realised that he was still subscribed to the magazine, nor had he realised that the lifting of the mail limit would apply to periodicals. Potions Monthly was not his favoured periodical on potioneering; he found it a little too tailored to the potions hobbyist rather than the professionals, but it did tend to include interesting announcements about new patents, even if the pages did include insipid little interviews with whatever witch or wizard had created the newest beauty or hair care product that was sweeping the nation.
Really, he much preferred The Advanced Potioneer , which catered to the potions experts. Severus had written two articles that had been published in The Advanced Potioneer , both before the Dark Lord’s return. The feelings of accomplishment from seeing his name in print as well as the invitations to speak at potions conferences following the publication of each were the only memories he had that could fuel his Patronus. He had value. His contributions to the world had not been entirely evil.
Despite his feelings about the monthly periodical that had been dropped into his cell, he devoured the magazine, figuring he might as well take advantage of the mistake before the editors realised he could no longer pay for his subscription and took him off the mailing list. Besides, there were only so many times he could reread Hermione’s letters. It was nice to have something new to think about.
Surprisingly, Potions Monthly continued to show up every month.
The regular issues of Potions Monthly wasn’t the only change to Severus’ regular mail schedule after the Wizengamot ruling. Minerva, who had seemed up to this point to be content to send her greetings through Hermione, began to send her own twice-monthly letters. These letters contained an abundance of Hogwarts gossip, which Severus found that he rather enjoyed. He had not been much for engaging in the gossip while he was a professor, and even less when he was Headmaster, but there was a familiar comfort in hearing that the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor was a complete moron, and that the on and off again romance between Pomona Sprout and Aurora Sinestra was currently on again after a particularly dramatic declaration of emotions after a celebration of Poppy Pomfrey’s birthday at the Three Broomsticks.
Severus even occasionally wrote back.
Hermione also wrote more frequently, typically 2-3 times a week. He pitied her poor owl, making the trip to the North Sea so often, but when he mentioned his concern she informed him that part of the Wizengamot ruling included a new Azkaban mail drop off location at the ministry.
Many of the families who have relatives in Azkaban are struggling financially due to hefty fines and reparations, or because the primary breadwinners are locked up. They can’t always afford to have the family owl always exhausted by being sent out on frequent long trips. The guards were also disinclined to deal with the influx of owls to the prison. The drop off location was suggested as a compromise. It works like a muggle post box. I’m sure you can imagine how baffling the description of the muggle mail service was to all of those Pureblood Wizengamot members!
____________________________________________
23 December 2001
Dear Professor,
Happy Christmas! I am very glad that you are able to receive packages this year, because I have wanted to send you this for ages. Hagrid said that he was never able to stay warm when he spent those few weeks in Azkaban during my second year, and I imagine that his giant blood gave him a bit of an advantage.
Don’t worry, I didn’t knit it myself.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Severus opened the paper to find a thick wool turtleneck sweater in black. He swiftly pulled it over his head.
An envelope fell out of the wrapping paper. Severus opened it to find another pop-up card. A silvery doe patronus unfolded, midstep over a frozen lake. The large oak trees of the Forest of Dean rose up around the lake, and silvery frost covered the ground. He remembered this moment. He had been frozen and disillusioned, hoping that Potter would take the bait and follow a strange patronus past the bounds of Hermione’s strong wards. Stupid boy.
A small note had fallen out of the envelope, and Severus picked it up.
Professor,
This card is technically from both me and Harry. Dean Thomas has been making these types of cards for his parents for years, and we commissioned him to make this one for you. Harry showed him the memory in the pensieve, and he thought Dean captured it exceptionally well. In addition to being one of Harry’s strongest Christmas memories, it is supposed to be a reminder that even when things seem very bleak and lonely there are people fighting for you. Even if you don’t always know that they are on your side.
Happy Christmas,
H & H
Another package arrived the next day.
Severus,
I know Hermione sent you a nice, warm sweater. What a shame no one will see how very pretty you look in it.
I thought you might also like something a bit more practical.
Happy Christmas,
Minerva
Minerva’s gift contained a package of new boxers, thermal underwear, and some wintergreen toothpaste.
No, he definitely wasn’t turning into a ghost.
5 April 2002
Dear Professor,
Yesterday’s trial proved successful, and I think it is time for me to test it on my parents. They are still living in Australia, so I have made arrangements to travel there next week. I expect that I will be there for some time, especially if they are able to recover their memories.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I am incredibly nervous. I don’t know how they will react to the potion, nor the return of their memories generally, nor to the re-emergence of a long forgotten and now adult daughter. For so long I’ve been focused on the academic question of returning their memories that I completely ignored the emotional impact that this would have on all of us.
Do you think I am doing the right thing? From what I’ve seen when I visit to spy on them they seem perfectly content. Maybe they would be happier as Wendell and Monica Wilkins forever.
You can direct any letters to Harry at the ministry while I’m away. He will send them on to me. I hope you will agree to continue to correspond even if this potion trial has ended. Your letters mean a lot to me.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Dear Miss Granger,
I would prefer that you call me Severus. I have not been your professor for almost 5 years now, and I would like to think that our relationship friendship association has evolved beyond student and professor.
I would be glad to continue to write to you. Having a regular correspondent has made these last few years bearable. Not to mention that you are a remarkably better conversationalist than Ratface and Tosspot, I’m not certain Tosspot has a fully developed temporal lobe.
Emotional matters have never been a strength of mine, and I don’t know your parents, however you have displayed exceptional loyalty to those who you care for, and you have a remarkable ability to forgive those who do not always deserve it. Surely you got these traits from somewhere.
Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to know how likely it is that your actions saved your parents. Bellatrix and a few other Death Eaters were sent to Hampstead to find your parents after you broke into the Ministry. I think you can imagine how that would have ended, had they been home.
Please tell me how everything goes.
Sincerely,
Severus
Hermione stayed in Australia through the end of the year, reconnecting with her parents. The potion had worked perfectly.
She continued to write at least once a week, to Severus’ surprise. She typically continued to discuss magical theory with him; ” I don’t have anyone else to talk to about these things, especially since I’m spending all my time around muggles at the moment ,” but she occasionally slipped in a few details about her daily life in Australia and about the relationship that she was rebuilding with her parents.
At Christmas she sent a woollen hat and gloves, and a print of a John William Waterhouse painting that she had seen at the National Gallery of Victoria, along with some muggle sticky tack so that he could put it up on his cell wall. The painting depicted Odysseus, tied to the mast of his ship and surrounded by sirens. It made me think of you, Hermione had said.
He couldn’t imagine why.
Hermione moved back to her London flat in January. Even though they had maintained their regular correspondence, Severus felt oddly comforted to know that she was back in England.
October 2003
The newest Potions Monthly issue arrived during breakfast and was unceremoniously dropped directly into Severus’ porridge.
Severus wiped the congealed breakfast from the cover of the magazine with the sleeve of his prison uniform. He would likely have bits of porridge on his uniform for nearly a month before they gave him a replacement and sent this one out to be cleaned.
He glanced at the new magazine and gasped. On the front cover was a full length portrait of Hermione, in professional potioneer’s robes, unbuttoned to show off her smart, muggle dress suit underneath. The headline read, "New Golden Girl of Potioneering, an interview with Hermione Granger."
Hermione Granger may be best known for being the muggle-born best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, but we at Potions Monthly suspect that soon she will be a household name in her own right. Potions Monthly sat down with Hermione to discuss potions, politics, and her perfect romantic partner.
PM: Tell us about the new potion that you have developed.
H: It is a complex memory potion that I hope will ultimately be used to treat most major magical memory disorders and curses. The preliminary trials showed very promising results, and we hope to move into clinical trials in the New Year. There are several long-term care cases at St. Mungo’s that revolve around major memory damage, and I hope that we will be able to start working towards a cure.
PM: Gilderoy Lockhart, you mean.
H: Among others.
PM: How did you become interested in memory potions?
H: Memory issues are particularly interesting to me as a muggleborn, but my interest really took off after I was able to gain access to the ingenious modifications made by Professor Severus Snape to the generic memory regenerative potion. Those additions are really what inspired me to concentrate on memory potions for my Potions Mastery.
PM: Professor Severus Snape, the infamous Death Eater…
H: Former Death Eater, and spy for the Order of the Phoenix.
PM: He is best known in the Potions community for teaching most Hogwarts students under the age of 40.
H: He is also well known for his groundbreaking potions work on antivenins and non-addictive sleeping draughts.
PM: Of course, and he is known widely for being a rather difficult man, how were you able to gain access to his modifications?
H: I asked him.
PM: Isn’t he in Azkaban?
H: Yes.
PM: That brings us to my next question, you have been making quite a stir recently advocating for Death Eaters in front of the Wizengamot. What made you decide to take up this cause in your spare time?
H: I occasionally volunteer my time to advocate for basic human rights, primarily Muggleborns, Squibs, Sentient beings, and Azkaban prisoners. Time and time again the Wizarding World has put the comfort of wealthy pureblood and half blood wizards above the lives and wellbeing of any other group. The organisation that I volunteer with, Human Rights for All, or HRFA, is dedicated to making sure that discriminatory laws such as the Muggleborn Registration Act, or anti-werewolf legislation can no longer be passed through the Wizengamot.
PM: And Death Eaters?
H: Prisoners have rights too. Even Death Eaters. Everyone agrees that using Dementors as guards was unnecessarily cruel, especially when considering how many prisoners were not even given trials after Voldemort fell the first time. However, keeping prisoners isolated in a frigid cell in the North Sea, with barely any human interaction, poor food, poor hygiene, and no medical care is still a violation of basic human rights, and HRFA believes that as we work to build a better and more just society, every group who is treated unjustly must be considered.
PM: Let’s move on to something more diverting. What do you look for in a romantic partner?
H: I am not answering this.
PM: Well then. Where can our readers learn more about your memory potion?
H: My research will be published in the Advanced Potioneer in January, and I am available by owl if anyone would like to discuss my work.
The interview included several photographs of Hermione. The first one showed her in the traditional robes of a potions apprentice, and showed her stirring a potion with a look of deep concentration as she focused on the contents of the cauldron. The second photo was a group photograph of Hermione wedged between Potter and Weasley at what looked to be some sort of ministry function. Hermione radiated happiness, and the low cut red dress she wore suited her. Severus carefully pulled the article out of the magazine and placed it under his mattress with the newspaper clipping of Hermione’s ankle.
Dear Hermione,
I saw your interview in Potions Monthly. Congratulations on the acceptance of your paper in the Advanced Potioneer. I would be interested in reading it if you would be so kind as to send me a copy.
I didn’t realise that you were pursuing a Potions mastery, although I should have expected you would put all of your extensive research to good use. Who are you studying under?
Sincerely,
Severus
19 October 2003
Dear Severus,
Damocles Belby signs my documentation and oversees my cauldron work, but I prefer to consider myself studying under you. Master Belby had an available lab and apprentice position open when I began looking into beginning my own trials, however you were correct if slightly uncharitable about his potions ability. He is very enthusiastic and kind, but certainly not as brilliant as you are.
I like to imagine that if you were free I would be studying for my mastery under you, although I doubt you would have been so accommodating of my early incessant questions if you were not literally trapped in a cell with nothing else to do. I am so grateful that I have you to speak to about the complicated, theoretical aspects of potioneering. Even without a reference library to support you, the wealth of information that you have been able to provide me has been invaluable, and so very much appreciated.
You will find a copy of my paper attached.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Dear Hermione,
Your paper is brilliant. This research will change lives and I am proud to have been able to contribute, even if it means that Lockhart improves.
I have never taken an apprentice. When I was free to do as I liked I was barely out of my own mastery, and my days were taken up with the minutiae of life as a Hogwarts professor. By the time I was settled enough to consider it, your class began at Hogwarts and any semblance of a peaceful life was eradicated.
Had circumstances been different I would have been proud to take you as my first apprentice. You are correct in thinking that if I were not forced to read your early correspondence I may not have responded to your questioning at all. I hope you will forgive me for that. Perhaps neither of us are the same people that we had to be during wartime.
Sincerely,
Severus
23 December 2003
Dear Severus,
Happy Christmas!
I don’t imagine that these past few Christmases have been at all comfortable or happy for you, but I do hope you can at least find some joy in these gifts.
This year, Hermione’s gift included a small paperback of Shakespeare’s tragedies and a pair of warm socks, which Severus immediately pulled on over his threadbare Azkaban issue pair.
Hermione had included another muggle pop-up card, this time the Hogwarts grounds, covered in snow. The castle rose up as he opened the card. The detail of the castle was incredible.
Severus smiled at the gifts and flipped through the book. Tucked into the front cover was the receipt for a subscription to the Advanced Potioneer, to be sent to Severus Snape beginning in January.
Once again, Severus was brought to tears by Hermione’s thoughtfulness.
Dear Hermione,
Christmas has never been a particularly festive time in my life. I could typically expect a bottle of Scotch from Minerva and some Honeydukes sweets from Albus. More than anything I miss the Christmas Feast. The Hogwarts elves made the best mince pies. I would give anything to eat something other than the porridge, stale bread, cheese, and boiled turnips that I’ve been eating every day for the past 5 years.
If I just had some of that nice Scotch and some of those mince pies, this would be one of my better Christmases. You are too kind to me. Thank you.
Happy Christmas,
Severus
March 2004
“What’s this?” Severus looked at his breakfast. The usual plain porridge that he had eaten for breakfast every day since he entered Azkaban looked different this morning.
“Apples.” Knobstick grunted. “Supposed to be good for you or summat.”
Dinner that evening included roasted potatoes and brussels sprouts with his regular bread and cheese, not a boiled turnip to be found.
The next morning Severus received a whole orange and a plate of scrambled eggs.
February 2005
Severus had fallen into a new routine. As was his habit since his first year in Azkaban, he would wake, and eat half of his breakfast and wait to see who would be sent to shower. The meals over the past year had not improved in quality as much as they improved in variation, although one major upgrade was the addition of fresh fruit to the menu.
Once he had showered, or seen someone else pass to shower, Severus would pace the length of his cell 200 times. If there was to be a letter from Hermione or Minerva that day, it would generally arrive while he was pacing. Severus prided himself on developing the level of self control that it took to continue to pace when he had received a new letter. They were always worth the wait.
If he had a new letter then he would spend the rest of the morning reading and responding to his correspondence.
If he did not have a new letter, then he would find something else to read. He had a variety of reading options, depending on his mood. The collection of muggle paperbacks that Hermione had sent him were in two neat stacks along the wall across from his cot, acting as bookends for his back issues of Potions Monthly and the Advanced Potioneer. The sweater that Hermione had sent for Christmas several years ago had become threadbare due to near daily wear, so when Hermione had sent another sweater for Christmas last year, Severus had carefully pulled apart several of the dangling wool threads from the old sweater to loosely tie the letters together by year.
He didn't count the stones in the wall anymore, but he did still list the names of the people who he had hurt or killed. He didn't think it would ever be possible to forgive himself for that.
Severus was halfway through 1984 when his regular routine was interrupted by his cell door opening.
Ratface and Tosspot had stopped coming around sometime last November. Severus didn’t know or care if they had quit, been reassigned, or died horribly in some gruesome accident. The new, revolving cast of guards were so devoid of any hint of personality that Severus hadn’t bothered to name them.
Two guards came in, carrying a large box and new mattress wrapped in plastic. The box read IKEA.
Severus hastily pulled the pictures of Hermione out from under his cot mattress and stashed them inside his book.
Outside his cell, more guards carried large boxes and mattresses down the hall to distribute to the other prisoners.
He watched the guards spend several hours putting together his new bed frame. They didn’t speak, just worked on their task with a single minded purpose. Severus decided that the new guards might be Golems.
April 2005
Severus gaped as he stepped into the shower. A new, wall mounted shelving unit contained freshly laundered towels and flannels. He hadn’t seen a towel since St. Mungo’s.
He took a chance and checked the wall dispenser for shampoo. It had never been filled for as long as he had been in Azkaban, and he had stopped checking after the first year.
A thick blue gel squirted into his hand.
Severus washed his hair for the first time in over 6 years.
July 2005
This time the interruption in Severus’ routine came just as he had finished responding to a letter from Hermione.
One of the guards opened his cell door. “Prisoners are allowed one hour of monitored recreation time each day.”
“Since when?” Severus’ voice cracked as he spoke. He hadn’t needed to speak out loud since Ratface left.
The golem guard did not respond.
Severus was led from his cell to a larger cell, containing several tables and a few muggle board games. Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange were sitting together, reading the Scrabble instructions with an intense focus.
“Ah, Severus.” Lucius’ voice also cracked, as if it hadn’t been used recently either. “Do you know how to play?”
13 June, 2006,
Dear Severus,
I apologise for the delay in my responses. Viktor and I broke up (I’m okay, it was a long time coming), so my living arrangements are currently up in the air. I’m couch surfing at the moment, currently at Ginny and Harry’s until their children drive me mad, then I might be at Neville’s. I might have trouble responding to your letters until I have a more permanent apartment.
Hermione
Severus read Hermione’s letter three times. Ever since that first piece of an article, where he had seen Hermione’s ankle disapparating, with the caption about her (obviously false) impending marriage, he had never heard anything about who she might be romantically involved with. Until now.
They broke up.
But they had been living together this whole time.
But they broke up.
What had Viktor (Severus brought out his best sneer while thinking the name), thought of Hermione writing to an Azkaban prisoner, a Death Eater, multiple times a week? Severus tallied up everything he knew about the man, which wasn’t very much. He was an international Quidditch player, but a clumsy oaf on the ground. Severus grudgingly admitted that he probably wasn’t as dumb as he looked, but he certainly wasn’t as brilliant as Hermione. Nor was he particularly handsome. What had she even seen in him?
They broke up, and it had been a long time coming.
Severus’ thoughts skipped over the news of Potter and Ginevra’s children and landed on the next relevant piece of information. Neville. Severus tried to recall his last interaction with the boy, in what must have been the spring of his year as Headmaster. He had pulled the Longbottom into his office after the foolish child had orchestrated some particularly rebellious act. He remembered looking at the boy, covered in his own blood, who was staring at him, utterly defiant. Severus had been taken aback at that moment to realise that Longbottom had grown up. Severus was certain that this new, heroic version of Longbottom no longer saw his former Potions professor when he encountered a boggart.
Neville Longbottom was handsome, heroic, a Gryffindor, and Hermione’s friend. And she was going to go stay with him after breaking up with her fancy, famous Quidditch boyfriend.
Before Severus could change his mind, he scribbled a note and sent it off.
Dear Hermione,
My house is empty, you will stay there. 12 Spinners End, Cokeworth. Besides, I need someone to water my plants.
You may have to do a bit of dusting.
Severus
16 June 2006
Dear Severus,
Your house is rather depressing. Only one of your burners works and I imagine that this fridge stopped working around 1980. Are you opposed to me making some updates?
Your plants appear to already be dead. I haven’t had much luck keeping my own plants alive, so it is probably for the best that I didn’t get involved.
Also, your books BIT me! You must have realised that the first thing I would do when coming to your house would be to peruse the bookshelves. Why wouldn’t you warn me!
Hermione
Dear Hermione,
Serves you right for snooping. It is a simple anti-theft jinx. I’m sure you can figure out how to reverse it.
The refrigerator does not work but there is a cooling cabinet in the pantry. I have found one burner works well enough for one person.
I am not opposed to you making some updates if it makes you more comfortable, but don’t waste too much money on my shitty house, and don’t go spending your money on things that can be done for free with magic.
Severus
1 August 2006
Severus,
I just received a notice about a compulsory purchase order along with a warning that you and all of your belongings must be out of the house by 15 October. The notice said something about a new motorway.
I’ll be going to the city hall tomorrow to see if I can learn anything else. I’ll let you know once I have more information
Hermione
2 August 2006
Severus,
Those absolute imbeciles at the building authority were no help. They said that the appeal period ended in December and there is nothing to be done. They had a lot to say about “combating urban blight” and the menace of “absentee landlords,” with some very rude implications about you. I almost hexed them. They don’t care about urban blight, they just want to build their motorway!
I have a few ideas for next steps. Let me know which you would prefer, or let me know if you have another idea.
- Polyjuice. If you send me a few of your hairs I can intimidate everyone involved as a Polyjuiced version of you. I have practised your “Death to Gryffindors” glare and everyone at pub night says that it is extremely menacing.
- Confound those involved so that they think that the motorway is supposed to go through a different part of town. Find and alter all motorway plans, obliviate the highway engineers.
- Place some sort of ward or charm so that they can’t find the house. Maybe a Fidelius charm and some muggle repellant charms. Maybe a nice blood ward? Send me some of your blood and I’ll do it. Then find and alter all of the motorway plans and obliviate the highway engineers.
Maybe some combination of all three? Whatever you think best- just let me know.
Hermione
3 August 2006
Dear Severus
I am serious about the Polyjuice potion. As the owner of the property you have more legal authority here than I do. I have a small stash of Polyjuice, so if you would just send me a few hairs I could act for you..
Severus hadn’t decided how to respond to Hermione’s initial letter about the impending demolition of his house, and before he knew it he had received two more.
He wasn’t particularly attached to the house. The memories he had of growing up there were far from pleasant. He had always dreamed of selling it and getting something a bit more isolated.
As he read through Hermione’s list of ideas for next steps he felt his chest grow tight. He had realised that she might have some affection for him, but to go so far as to break the law?
She broke laws for Potter or for her parents. Not for unpleasant former professors who were locked in prison for murder and joining blood supremacist groups.
As he considered her letters he pulled out the pictures he had kept under his mattress. They were worn down around the edges from him bringing them out to look at them so often. He drew his finger along her face.
The surge of affection he always felt these days when thinking of Hermione bubbled into an ache of longing. Longing that he hadn’t felt in years, that he didn’t think he could feel again, as heartless as he had been for so long.
19 August 2006
Hermione was panicking. She hadn’t heard from Severus in weeks, and he hadn’t responded to any of the letters she had sent since he told her that she was allowed to make improvements to his house.
That was a moot point now.
It wasn’t like him to ignore her letters. Even at the beginning, when his responses were terse and waspish he had still responded immediately.
She had called in the cavalry, i.e. Harry and Ginny.
Hermione had considered bringing HRFA in on this, but their time was already stretched thin, and while prisoner rights were nominally a part of the organisation’s mission, they did not receive the same widespread public support as the muggleborn and squib divisions.
She elected not to involve Draco either. After serving his three years in Azkaban, Draco had become an invaluable source of information about the prison conditions, and had even become the primary sponsor for all HRFA prison reform initiatives. Unfortunately Draco tended to clam up whenever Severus was mentioned.
She had found a few of Severus’ old hairs on a hairbrush in his bedroom, so she could technically begin enacting her plan without him, but she knew she would feel guilty if she polyjuiced herself into him without his consent.
She was just sitting down to write Severus another letter when the floo sprang to life and Harry stepped out.
Harry waved a letter at her. “He wrote back. This just came in from the Azkaban drop box.”
Hermione grabbed it and ripped it open.
Dear Hermione,
That miserable house is not worth you breaking any laws. I was going to sell it when I got out anyway.
You have done so much over the past few years, and I had hoped that providing you with a place to stay, even for a short time, would be some small measure of repayment for everything that you have done for me.
Instead I must ask you for another favour. Would you be so kind as to pack up my books and any magical items in my home and take them to Hogwarts to be stored with my other belongings? I have no attachment to the furniture or muggle items. They can be sold or discarded as you see fit.
I am sending along one hair in case you need to use it to act on my behalf while sorting out this matter. Any documentation you may need is in the locked drawer of the desk in my bedroom.
Thank you,
Severus
A small paper with a rust brown smudge had fallen out of the document.
There is a small blood ward on the desk, but this should do the trick.
S.
14 October 2006
With only 15 hours before she had to be out of the house at Spinner's End, Hermione shoved the last box of Severus’ belongings through the floo and disconnected it. She slumped to the floor and sighed with relief.
The plan that she, Harry, Ginny and Minerva had concocted after receiving Severus’ letter telling her to sell the house had gone off with hardly a hitch.
She wasn’t sure how Severus would take it, when he found out. If his letters were any indication, he seemed to have mellowed considerably while in Azkaban. She didn’t think she would be able to bear him belittling her again the way he might have during her school years.
She wouldn’t think about that. Nothing she had done was irreversible. If he didn’t like it, he could fix it himself once he got out.
19 December 2008
Hermione had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and had woken well before dawn with a tight ball of anxiety lodged in her stomach.
He was getting out today.
The twisting in her stomach discouraged any breakfast or coffee, so Hermione made herself a cup of peppermint tea and held it, warming her hands but not drinking it as she sat at the little table overlooking the back garden.
It was a terrible back garden. Hermione wasn’t very good with plants. Maybe he would fix it.
Maybe he would hate it.
She dumped her cold tea down the sink and dressed in her warmest clothes.
She apparated to the Azkaban Ferry drop off point a full hour before the boat was scheduled to arrive. It was a small, wizarding hamlet, just north of Aberdeen. There was a small general store, and Hermione picked up a pack of licorice wands, just for something to do. At the counter she noticed some individually wrapped, homemade mince pies under a stasis charm. She remembered a letter from several Christmases ago and bought two.
The loud blasting of a foghorn sounded as she left the shop, and she quickly raced down the lane that led to the dock.
Severus stepped off the boat, carrying a small box of his possessions. He was wearing the sweater she had given him for Christmas a few years ago. It was loose around his too thin frame. He moved with an unnatural stiffness that suggested that he was not used to so much walking, nor carrying so much weight at once. His skin was sallow from 10 years without direct sunlight.
Then he spotted her, and he gave her a small smile.
Hermione thought that this might be the first time she had seen him smile. It was beautiful.
She grinned back.
“You came.” His voice cracked.
“I told you I would.” She reached for his box, but he didn’t let her take it.
“I’ve got it.” Severus’ gaze took in every aspect of her face, then quickly flickered down her body, and back up. “Sometimes I thought you might be a dream.”
“It is hard to believe you are here, too.” They each looked at the other for a long moment.
“Let’s go. Do you mind going side-along?” Hermione took Severus’ bony arm.
He shook his head, and she apparated them back to the house.
“Where are we?” He asked, taking in the small cottage in front of him.
“Cumbria.” She swished her wand to let him through the wards.
“Yours?”
“I’ve been living here, but no. Technically it’s yours.” She glanced at him nervously.
She couldn’t decipher the range of emotions that crossed his face in quick succession. She hadn’t remembered him being so expressive while they had been at school. Back then she had only experienced either the apoplectic rage or the cool mask of indifference.
She wondered if he had really changed so much, or if it was because she had never really known him then.
Finally his face settled into an expression that she thought must be confusion. “How?”
They were still standing outside in the chilly December wind, so she pushed the door open and led him inside. “Come inside and I’ll make some tea.”
She watched him inspect the cottage, and tried to imagine it as if she was seeing it for the first time. It had been owned by one of Minerva’s old mentors, who had decided to relocate to the continent during the war. Minerva had bought the property and had used it as a safehouse for some of the younger muggleborn students and their families.
Hermione had spent quite a bit of time making it habitable for someone younger than 120.
She set the tea and the two mince pies on the table and watched him inspect her pitiful garden through the window.
“The town of Cokeworth sent a cheque to compensate you for the value of the property that they took from you. I considered putting it in a muggle bank account, but I thought it would probably be more helpful for you to have a place to go once you got out.” She said it all in a rush. “You can sell it if you don’t like it. Minerva sold it to me for much less than she paid for it, I’m sure.”
“And you've been living here since you got kicked out of Spinner’s End?”
“Yes.” Hermione shifted in her seat, nervously. This had been her home for just over a year and she had become quite fond of it. She had been staying in the smaller bedroom, saving the main bedroom for Severus when he returned. She had packed most of her things over the past week, so she would be ready to go if he kicked her out.
Severus let out a sigh and smiled at her. “I’m glad. I was sorry to have put you through all that difficulty, especially when you had been so generous.”
“I was hardly generous. I sent you gifts, yes, but that’s what friends do.”
“And all the letters.”
Hermione huffed. “The letters weren’t generous, I used your brain to get a Mastery in potions and you didn’t even get compensated for it.”
“Agree to disagree. The prison reforms then, I know that was your doing.”
“Draco provided the funds and the knowledge. I did some advocacy work, but it was for the good of the Wizarding world, really.”
Severus looked a bit uneasy. Hermione poured them both some tea.
“You have mince pies.”
“I saw them at the shop while I was waiting for you. It is almost Christmas.”
Severus nodded but made no move to eat them. He glanced around the kitchen. “It is a very nice cottage. I’d like to see the rest.”
“Wait until I show you the Potions lab, I had it renovated for you.” Hermione jumped up and started towards the direction of the lab.
“Hermione, is something wrong?” Severus stood from the table but didn’t follow her.
Hermione shook her head. “Come see the lab.”
He followed her through the doors to the lab. She knew he would like this part. The lab was huge, large enough for two potioneers to work quite comfortably without getting in each other’s way. She had stocked the shelves with fresh ingredients, and filled the room with a mix of Severus’ personal supplies, pulled from storage at Hogwarts, and some of the new top-of-the line supplies that Hermione had bought for herself with the funds from her memory potion patent.
Severus looked dumbstruck. “You did this for me?”
“Yes, well, I had hoped that you might let me work here with you. It’s big enough for two.”
Severus relaxed slightly. He crossed to the shelves holding his personal supplies, running his fingers across them reverently, as if welcoming them each back into his life. He turned to look at her. “Yes, I think I would like that.”
“There is a study down the hall, I put your books there. I’ll show you after I show you to your room.”
He followed her up the stairs and into the larger of the two bedrooms. He inspected the room briefly and nodded his approval.
“We can go shopping for clothes and other supplies tomorrow if you’d like. Or, well, I don’t have to come with you, but I can if you’d like me to. I took the day off.” She hedged.
“I’d like you to.”
Hermione showed him the bathroom, then opened the door to the room she had been staying in.
Severus frowned as he entered her room. “I thought you’d been living here for over a year? Why is everything in boxes?”
“I wasn’t sure if you would want me to stay.”
She looked up at him. Several emotions flitted across his face, then stopped at one that she thought she was able to read. Insecurity.
“Would you like to stay?”
She swallowed, pushing her nervousness away. “Yes.” She was a Gryffindor. She was brave. “For as long as you’ll let me.”
He smiled. “Then stay.”
She held out her hand to him. He took it after only a small hesitation.
“For as long as you want.”
____________________________________________
21 May 2011
Hermione,
I didn’t want to wake you. Draco owled me this morning to ask if I would meet him at the Azkaban ferry at 9am to meet Lucius. We will be taking him to Narcissa’s townhouse. Would you like to meet us for lunch in Diagon Alley around noon?
Draco also asked if we minded if he used our second bedroom this evening. He wanted to discuss Rabastan’s upcoming appeal with you, and he has to be at Hogwarts early tomorrow to meet with Minerva about the open Potions position. I told him I thought it would work, but if it doesn’t you can tell him at lunch.
Love,
Severus