- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Ships:
- Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger Severus Snape
- Genres:
- Romance Drama
- Era:
- In the nineteen years between the last chapter of
- Spoilers:
- Half-Blood Prince Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
- Stats:
-
Published: 07/01/2011Updated: 08/12/2011Words: 19,666Chapters: 7Hits: 410
Never Give Up, It's A Wonderful Life
SwissMiss
- Story Summary:
- When Hermione Granger is assigned Severus Snape's old quarters, she never expects to find his ghost haunting them. But is everything really as it appears? SS/HG.
Chapter 01
- Posted:
- 07/01/2011
- Hits:
- 320
Author's Note: This was written for Harry Holidays 2010 as a gift to the community, since the original recipient dropped out. One of the original recipient's requests was "based on a film", so the plot is drawn from the 2005 movie "Just Like Heaven" with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo. I have chosen a song to go along with each chapter.
Title song: Hurts, "It's a Wonderful Life"
Chapter 1 song: Caleigh Peters, "I Can Do Anything"
Chapter 1
"Oh, Hermione, dear, come
in. I'm so glad you're here." Professor McGonagall waved
Hermione into her office from behind the massive stacks of parchment
and boxes on her desk. "The Board of Governors doesn't seem to
realize that we need to have things up and running in two weeks, not
two years! They're balking now at some of the expenditures, even
though Madam Terwilliger assured me just last week there would be no
problem pushing them through. Ach!" She tossed a sheaf of papers
up into the air, sending them flying neatly to the top of a pile that
had already reached precarious dimensions. "Never mind, 'tis
none of your concern," she told Hermione apologetically. "Come
in, have a seat!"
The elderly witch made her way through
the bricks, buckets, ladders, bundles of fabric, and other various
items heaped up around the room. A space had been cleared by the fire
to make a cozy corner, and a settee and a couple of comfortable
chairs were angled to make the most of the spectacular view of
Hogwarts' grounds and the distant mountains. It was a pleasantly
warm, late summer afternoon, and the landscape stretched out below
them, peaceful and golden. It was hard to imagine this had been the
site of such terrible carnage a few brief weeks earlier.
Hermione
smiled and closed the door behind her. "I'm so excited about
this opportunity, Professor. I can't tell you how much it means to me
to have you entrust me with a teaching position, especially
considering I never formally completed my schooling."
"Piddle-posh,
Hermione, and didn't I tell you to call me Minerva?" She sat
down in one of the chairs, gesturing for Hermione to do the same.
"Your NEWT scores were exemplary, as I expected. And not even
Lucius Malfoy could deny that no one is better qualified to teach our
young wizards and witches about the Muggle world. May I offer you a
cup of tea? I could do with a break myself."
"Thank
you, that would be lovely," Hermione said as she sank down onto
the other chair. "I shall certainly do my best. There are so
many misconceptions, even among Muggle enthusiasts like Mr. Weasley.
And I can only imagine what sort of horrible lies were spread by the
Carrows last year."
"Indeed." McGonagall nodded
sharply as she twirled her wand around to Conjure the tea things. "Of
course, most of the students realized it was all a bunch of hogwash,
but there is a certain, shall we say, impressionable element, whose
beliefs you may have to work hard to retrench. You will have my full
support, of course, as well as that of the entire staff."
"I
appreciate it. Thank you," Hermione said, accepting a cup from
the Headmistress. "How is the rebuilding coming along?" She
politely refrained from saying that it didn't look like much
progress, if any, had been made since she'd last been there. There
were still gaping holes in the outer walls, and on her way up through
the castle, she'd had to skirt several piles of rubble and even
double back at one point where the staircases were completely
missing, and seek an alternate route.
McGonagall grimaced as
she confirmed Hermione's suspicions. "Slowly. There aren't many
witches or wizards in Britain with the knowledge of how to work the
kinds of charms Hogwarts needs. Even Filius says it's beyond him.
I've got a line on a master stonecharmer in Italy, but the cost..."
The Headmistress sighed. "That's just one of the items the Board
is giving me a hard time over." She blew across the top of her
tea and took a sip.
"Maybe I can help," Hermione
offered. "I'd need someone to teach me, of course, but I've
always been quick at picking up new magic."
McGonagall
smiled at her over the edge of her cup. "That's very sweet of
you, Hermione, and it may be that there ends up being something you
can do, but for the time being, I need you to concentrate on getting
ready for the term. These two weeks will fly by, believe me!"
"Of
course, you're right. Still, if there's anything I can
do..."
"You'll be at the top of my list, never
fear," McGonagall assured her. "However, this talk of
rebuilding brings up a most pertinent point. Unfortunately, as I'm
sure you saw on your way up here, there are still large parts of the
castle that are unusable. Our first priority has to be to provide a
basic infrastructure for teaching and accommodations. As such, some
adjustments will have to be made. The entire west wing of the third
floor, for example, is exposed to the elements due to a breach in the
wall. And as you may recall--"
"That's where the
Muggle Studies classroom is," Hermione completed the
thought.
"Yes. There are other classes similarly
affected; the roof of the Divination classroom fell victim to a
giant's fist. The only solution that I have come up with is to double
up in several of the remaining functional classrooms. It will mean
longer days; classes will go right up until dinner time. But I feel
confident the staff and student body of Hogwarts will pull
together."
"Again, you can count on me,"
Hermione said stoutly.
"Excellent. There remains then
only the matter of your personal accommodations." Professor
McGonagall looked hesitant, as if she wasn't sure how to proceed with
a most delicate subject.
"I'd be happy to share a room
with another professor," Hermione said, assuming that was what
the Headmistress was getting at.
"No, no, I don't believe
it will come to that," McGonagall assured her. "However, it
is true that poor Charity's rooms are among those currently unfit for
habitation. As such, I have had to find other quarters for
you."
"Don't tell me I'll be moving in with Mr.
Filch's mops," Hermione joked.
"No, these are
well-furnished, comfortable living quarters. Now, Hermione, if you
think this will be a problem in any way, I want you to let me know.
We can find another arrangement, I'm sure. This just seemed like the
simplest solution at the moment, as they are currently the only
quarters not being used."
It only took Hermione a moment
to sort through the possibilities: the only staff quarters that could
be free were Professor Dumbledore's and Professor Snape's, as the
rest of the teachers would be returning. And it wasn't likely that
Professor McGonagall would be giving her the former Headmaster's
rooms.
"Dawlish will be the new Head of Gryffindor house,
and is therefore taking over my old rooms in Gryffindor Tower. I have
moved up here," McGonagall confirmed Hermione's line of
thinking. Diarmuid Dawlish would also be teaching Defense Against the
Dark Arts. It remained to be seen whether Voldemort's curse on the
position had died with him.
"...and that leaves
Professor Snape's old rooms down in the lower levels," Hermione
concluded.
"The dungeons were completely spared of any
damage during the battle," Professor McGonagall said.
Of
course, Hermione thought, there were only Slytherins down there, and
the Death Eaters wouldn't have been after attacking any of
them.
Professor McGonagall continued, "I think you'll
find that, as Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape appropriated
the best rooms for himself. In addition to the bedroom, living room,
and bath, there is an additional chamber that he had set up as a
personal potions laboratory. I dare say you'd have more personal
space at your disposal than any other member of staff."
"It
sounds quite generous, thank you," Hermione said with grace,
although she did feel more than a bit odd about taking over Professor
Snape's old rooms.
"I've had a quick look around down
there myself, and it all looks very much in order. I'm afraid there's
no budget for extensive redecoration, but if you do find that any of
the basic furnishings are damaged or unusable, let me know and we can
have them replaced. You may also feel free to remove any items you
find unnecessary or inconvenient. We will either find another use for
them elsewhere in the castle, or... dispose of them in an appropriate
manner."
Hermione understood what Professor McGonagall
was trying to say: She had checked the rooms for Death Eater
paraphernalia or anything that might be connected to Lord Voldemort,
but it might be that she had missed something, and she was warning
Hermione against any unpleasant surprises.
"I
understand," Hermione told her, steeling herself for just such
an eventuality. "I'm sure it will be fine."
Professor
McGonagall and Hermione chatted for another quarter of an hour,
Hermione outlining her syllabus, and McGonagall filling Hermione in
on her administrative duties. When they were interrupted by an owl
pecking insistently at the window, Hermione excused herself to allow
the Headmistress to get back to work.
On her way down to the
dungeon level, Hermione took a quick detour to peek into the Great
Hall. As the venue of the final show-down between Harry Potter and
Lord Voldemort, as well as the place where several people had died,
on both sides, it would no longer be used to take regular meals.
Instead, it was being dedicated as a memorial site. Meals would be
served in another large space near the kitchens that had previously
been used for storage.
Empty of furniture, the hall now
appeared cavernous. The lack of light further contributed to the
dreary atmosphere. The enchanted ceiling was dark, its magic broken
by the hits it had taken from wild curses during the Battle of
Hogwarts. Hermione shivered and closed the door again. It would be a
long time before she set foot in there again.
As she went back
across the entry hall, heading for the stairs leading to the lower
levels, she ran into Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra, both
of whom congratulated her and welcomed her to the staff. Flitwick
also invited Hermione to call him by his first name, but the tall,
aloof Astronomy professor merely twitched her nose and said she was
sorry about what had happened to Professor Burbage, and was certain
Hermione would be a worthy successor.
When she finally found
herself facing the heavy, iron-studded door leading into Professor
Snape's rooms -- her rooms now, she corrected herself-- she paused to
gather her wits. This might be the former lodging of a Death Eater
(although she knew Snape had been loyal to Dumbledore in the end, he
had still been a card-carrying member of Voldemort's organization,
and done some pretty horrible things himself to boot), but the space
itself was neutral. She was the one who would imbue the rooms with
their aura, and she wanted to start off on the right foot.
Swinging
the door open with a confidence she didn't necessarily feel, she took
a deep breath and entered.
The room was ... somewhat of a
let-down. There was a standard assortment of furniture -- sofa, desk,
chairs, bookshelves, side tables. The cold stone floor was covered by
a sturdy brown rug. The house-elves must have known she was on her
way, for a hearty fire burned in the grate: despite the fact that it
was the middle of August, the dungeons never lost their chilly edge.
She half-expected to see a silver mask peeking out from under the
sofa, sinister black robes draped over the back of a chair, or a
faded blood stain not quite scrubbed out of the rug. But there was
none of that. At first, she was excited to discover books on the
shelves, and ran over, eager to investigate Snape's reading material,
until she realized they were her own books, already unpacked and
organized by the house-elves. There was nothing of Snape's left.
Minerva had done a thorough job. The first word that sprang to mind
when she looked around was "sanitized".
Hermione
closed the door and began exploring the suite more thoroughly. The
walls were bare, except for a single, long landscape painting
opposite the sofa. It depicted a beautiful sunset, and Hermione was
already spinning yarns in her head regarding Snape's sensitive side,
when she realized it was a window-picture showing a view across
Hogwarts' grounds. As she stood there, she was able to see the sky
subtly darken on its way toward night. Minerva had probably had it
hung there for her. Or maybe all of the living quarters below ground
had a similar picture, to brighten the gloomy atmosphere and provide
a bit of daylight. She felt vaguely disappointed, as she had about
the books.
As Minerva had said, there were three rooms and a
private bath. The smallish annex off the main room with worktop,
shelves, and built-in cupboards -- now all empty -- Hermione took to
be the former private potions laboratory. She thought she might turn
it into a study or library, leaving the main room for more leisurely
activities.
The other door led to the bedroom. Hermione felt
a squirm of discomfort as she opened it, thinking about sleeping in
the same bed Snape had slept in -- possibly even using the same
sheets! (Although of course everything would have been thoroughly
cleaned and freshened up by the ever-dutiful house-elves.) Again,
though, the bedroom resembled nothing more than a nondescript
middle-class hotel. There was absolutely nothing to give any hint of
the room's former occupant. The bed was a generously sized single
four-poster with no curtains. The fluffy duvet and pillow had
matching brown covers (not green, she noted cynically) and the sheets
were crisp and white. There was a tall, wooden wardrobe, and when
Hermione opened it, she found it already filled with her own things,
again courtesy of the house-elves.
"Thanks, Dobby;
fellas!" Hermione called out as she closed the closet.
The
adjacent en-suite bath was large enough, and had a lovely claw-footed
tub, but no shower. That might explain why Snape had not necessarily
washed his hair every day. Hermione made a note to ask Minerva if she
might not have one installed. She certainly didn't fancy having to
wash her mass of chestnut hair under the tap every morning!
Wandering back out into the living room, she felt slightly
deflated. There really wasn't much left for her to do. She didn't
feel like going out and wandering about the castle, especially with
so few residents present at the moment. She might have gone out onto
the grounds to see Hagrid, but he had set up house in a marquee-sized
tent while his own hut was being rebuilt, and she'd had quite enough
of tents for the time being.
Plus, for some reason, she was
feeling a bit melancholy. It was probably being here again, in the
castle, with the events of two months ago still fresh, both in her
mind and in the physical scars left in the building. Or maybe these
rooms were really having an effect on her. Not the way Minerva had
feared; but the fact of their sparseness, their lack of personality,
brought home to her once again that people had died, their lives
ended, all that they had worked for and been -- eradicated in the
blink of an eye.
It hadn't really hit her like this with
Fred; there were so many Weasleys left, although Fred's absence was
felt, it was as if part of him were still there. Especially as one
needed look no further than George's face to be reminded of his
missing twin. With Remus and Tonks, well, Hermione had never really
been that close to either of them. She did feel sad that little Teddy
would grow up without his mother and father, but again, he was there
as their legacy. His colorful tufts of hair were a constant reminder
of Tonks, and everyone said he had his toothy grin from his father.
Andromeda had already plastered his room with pictures of his
parents, so much that Harry joked the boy was going to think he was
the offspring of television personalities who were simply too busy to
come home, but waved good-night to him every night from their
screens.
But Snape? There was nothing left of him. No
relatives, no pictures, no publications, no one to keep his memory
alive. Although he had been officially rehabilitated and pardoned by
the Ministry as a result of the memories he had left Harry, his
legacy was still a touchy matter that most people would rather not be
associated with. He must have had personal possessions, though,
things that weren't connected to Voldemort. Books, papers, perhaps
correspondence and pictures; he'd had a family, too, or at least
parents, even if they were all dead, although Hermione wasn't even
sure of that. Hermione wondered what Minerva had done with
everything. Maybe she would ask her ... if she could come up with a
good reason for it, beyond idle curiosity. It just felt wrong that
Snape's life should be so thoroughly expunged from the face of the
planet. Perhaps, in a way, in inheriting his rooms, she had inherited
a responsibility to see to it that he wasn't forgotten. Perhaps. Or
maybe she should just concentrate on moving on. Preparing for her
classes. Yes, that's what she needed to do. As she'd already decided,
there were enough ghosts about the castle without her adding to them.