Laboring Under the Delusion

“I think we have it. I really think this will work!” Acadia was crowing. Snape gave a slight scowl, but couldn’t deny that he felt a similar elation. “Let’s try it,” she pressed.

“Absolutely not. We don’t know for sure--”

“Oh, Severus, don’t be such a party pooper.”

“A--what?” he asked, amused. He wanted to try it, too--desperately. But he didn’t want to jeopardize her safety.

When Dumbledore had said that the potion manifested differently for everyone, it had been sheer obvious brilliance--everyone has different desires, so of course the potion acted differently. The antidote, then, would work only if it understood the desires that fueled the effectiveness of the potion. After all, if someone with utterly nothing to want took the potion, nothing would happen.

“We still don’t know if the antidote prevents death,” Snape reminded her.

“How will we know unless we try it?”

Snape thought for a long few minutes… he wanted to know as badly as she did. But he wouldn‘t risk her death. “No,” he said finally. She looked disappointed, but understood by this point that Snape’s final word was indeed final.

“I suppose you know best,” she admitted grudgingly. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and sighed. “Well, what should we do?”

“I suggest a vacation,” came a voice from behind them. Acadia shrieked, but Snape was by now quite used to Dumbledore’s spooky entrances.

“A vacation?” Snape asked, incredulously.

“Yes, Severus. It’s holiday, after all. I think you would both be well served with a vacation.”

“Where, pray tell, ought we to go?”

“I know ” Acadia piped up, still looking warily at Dumbledore. He turned to her and gave a slight nod. “We should go to the United States… home, for me. Have you ever been?”

Snape shook his head. He tried to squash the excitement that seemed to be rising within him--a vacation with Acadia? He’d heard of some romantic spots in North America…

Get a hold on yourself, Severus.

-----

Hermione was officially giving up. She’d scoured the city--actually, the entire country--for Him, and been unable to find any trace. He’d merely blinked into existence for one perfect second in a restaurant, and afterwards, disappeared just as suddenly. She couldn’t stop herself from being heartbroken--she scolded herself, pointed out all the logical problems with a heartbreak over someone she’d never even spoken to--but was unable to pull herself out of the deep depression which had beckoned her from the moment she had seen him.

That kind of perfection just can’t be real, she reasoned. It was an illusion--I miss my world so much, I invented a man who reminded me of it. That’s why I’ve decided to go home.

------

Snape nearly yelled in surprise when an owl smacked against his head as he walked down a corridor. He had been with Acadia, of course, arranging their plans for departure the next morning. Snape was feeling almost… excited about the trip. He had done a bit of research on magic in America, and had found that there wasn’t much documented about it. But he did look forward to seeing some of the sights. As Acadia talked on and on about her home, he found himself already envisioning the skylines, the buildings like crooked teeth in the sky--her analogy, not his. She had talked at great length about something called the Space Needle, which sounded at least interesting.

He grumbled and bent down to pick up the owl. He nearly shat himself when he saw handwriting that looked all too familiar. Having graded her essays for seven years, Miss Granger’s handwriting stayed with him. And here it was again, scrawled “Prof. Snape.” He pocketed the parchment and carried the owl back to his office. He produced a few owl treats from his desk drawer and set it on the perch where his personal owl usually rested. It hooted at him in what seemed to be a grateful manner, and Snape turned his attention finally to Miss Granger’s note.

“Prof. Snape, forgive me for the haste with which I write. I’m off to find some way to come home--that is to say, London. I should be there even before the owl makes it. I’m sure you know I have seen the man who is to be my downfall. He was in Brazil. He seems to have disappeared, and I have decided now is as good a time as any to come home. At least I can avoid the prophecy this way--or I think I can. I need to see you, and will be contacting you again when I arrive in London. -Hermione Granger.”

Snape set the parchment down angrily. After all this, she was returning as if it were simple. Well, she would simply have to wait for him. He was going on--

Thwack.

Snape rubbed his head as another owl contacted it. Had she told them to smack his head? He ripped the seal open and furiously took in the message. “I am in London, heading for Diagon Alley. Meet me, please. Leaky Cauldron. -HG.”

He scowled and threw the paper angrily across the room. Insufferable girl. She must assume he had nothing more important to do than spend time with her. Well, she was in for a surprise.

-----

“I’ll have something warm, if you please,” Snape spat at Tom as he entered the Leaky Cauldron a half hour later.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” said a relieved voice in the corner. Snape snapped around and saw Hermione, looking rather… adult. She was smoking what appeared to be a Muggle cigarette and had a drink before her. Her hair was tamer, although nowhere near calm, and the last of her baby-face had melted away. She had gained some weight, looking rather more solid than he remembered.

“Miss Granger,” he said by way of greeting. She quirked an eyebrow and blew out smoke.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, somewhat stiffly. She half-gestured to the seat beside her. He took it as Tom brought him a cup of tea. He drained the cup slowly, allowing the warmth of the cup to defrost his hands. As he finished, he looked back at Hermione, who was watching him closely.

“What was so important that you summoned me in such an utterly rude manner?” he spat.

“I wanted to know whether you have an antidote yet,” she said simply.

“You could not have asked me in an owl?”

“I don’t think you would have answered it. It’s become rather more important since my journey home.”

“How so?”

“I took an airplane--”

“One of those blasted Muggle devices?” Snape asked, aghast. He didn’t quite trust a hunk of metal that flew without magic.

“Yes. They’re rather more enjoyable than going up in flames, and there’s no chance of ending up cut in half as with Apparating,” she said sarcastically.

“There’s only the small danger of crashing back to the ground in a fiery mass.”

“Right,” she agreed, her lips twitching into a nervous smile.

“So what does your ‘airplane’ have to do with my antidote?”

“Well, I ended up sitting next to a very interesting fellow. He didn’t seem to be the same physically, but I was… I thought maybe he’s a Metamorphmagus. So, he could technically be anybody, right?”

“I suppose so, although Metamorphmagi are rare.”

“He seemed like he could have been, maybe, a powerful wizard. And he seemed to recognize that I wasn’t quite an ordinary person.”

“Anyone can see you are strange, Miss Granger. It does not mean that he was anybody special. Perhaps he is a bit stupid.”

“On the contrary. He’s brilliant. Which is why I thought, maybe it could be him. You know… him.”

“May I ask why you bothered to converse with, as you put it, him?”

“You may… and to answer you, I have no idea. He simply pulled me in,” she admitted with a small shrug.

“Sucker for a pretty face, are you?”

“No,” she said defensively. “Actually, he’s not all that attractive at first glance. Besides, I don’t talk to people based on their attractiveness. If I did, I would never be sitting here with you.” Her words were icy, her entire demeanor tense. He immediately knew his wrong--she was in love with this man, and he had offended her. He shook off this last insult and tried a new approach.

“Have you decided how you feel about fate, then?”

“Yes. It can sod off.”

Snape suppressed a laugh. “I can understand that,” he said seriously.

“But… just in case, I wanted to know about the antidote.”

“I believe I’ve worked out a way for it to be effective. We simply haven’t been able to test it--we’re unsure if the potion will still cause death, even with the antidote.”

“We? That dreadful Acadia Kersum?”

“Perhaps. I don’t believe it is any of your business.”

“I’m the one who’s going to die if this gets carried off! How is it not my business?” She was breathing heavily now, tears glistening in her eyes. It became evident that she was withholding something from him. There was an urgency in her voice.

“Miss Granger, perhaps you would do well to rest. We can discuss this further when I return from holiday.”

“You’re going out on a holiday? While my fate hangs in the balance?”

“What would you like me to do instead?” he asked, frustrated now. She was simply being irrational; she was shook up over being face to face with a man who could potentially lead to her death.

“I thought you were meant to look out for me.”

Snape swallowed hard--perhaps she wasn’t… so different. A childlike glimmer of need shone in her eyes. “I am. And I will.”

“After you get back from your shag-fest, you mean.”

“Miss Granger You are bordering on impertinence--”

“I’m not your student. I’m allowed to express human emotion around you now. You can’t hold me to your usual standard of perfection--you have no control over me, remember?” Her voice was snotty--snide, sarcastic, bitter, angry. She sounded at once furious and desperate.

“You’re right as usual. Let’s discuss this further tomorrow. I will not be leaving immediately.”

“Can I come to Hogwarts?” she asked, suddenly sounding excited.

“Of course you may,” he answered, a bit taken aback. Perhaps she was feeling nostalgic… after all, one does not spend seven years in one place without becoming attached. “Tomorrow morning, then. Get some rest.” He tried to infuse some caring into these words. She nodded slightly and lit another cigarette. Snape summoned all his will and left the pub. There was something strange happening with her, but for the moment, he was not interested in solving this new puzzle. He needed to retreat somewhere emotionless.