Never Give Up, It's A Wonderful Life

Chapter song: Milow - "You Don't Know"

Chapter 4

That evening, the sun had just disappeared beneath the horizon in Hermione's window-picture as she settled down to work on her lesson plans. She'd spent most of the day gathering materials in the Hogwarts library, and had lunch with Hagrid. The half-giant seemed more interested in hearing news of Harry than discussing Hermione's plans for the school year, however, and Hermione left him with a vague feeling of disgruntlement.

All of a sudden, a familiar voice startled her, causing a large blotch of ink to sully her parchment.

"What are you still doing here?" Snape demanded from right behind her.

Hermione turned around in her chair. "Would it be terribly difficult to knock?" she asked testily. "I've been doing you the same courtesy," she told him, adding in an undertone, "even if you haven't been around to appreciate it. And what happened to you this morning, anyway?" she continued, at a normal volume. "I thought we were going to meet in Minerva's office to discuss things."

"I was unable to reach her office. In fact, I only seem to be able to appear in these rooms, and you are always here!" he exploded.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as her investigative mode clicked on. "I haven't been in all day. Where have you been this whole time?"

"I don't know, blast it!" Snape exploded. "Nowhere! What does that matter? The point is that you are where you should not be."

"No, now wait a minute," Hermione said, ignoring Snape's pique in the face of a very interesting problem. "There's something odd going on here." She stood up and walked once around Snape, inspecting him up and down. "Very odd indeed..."

"Do you mind?" Snape sniffed haughtily, pulling his robes tighter around himself.

"But don't you wonder," Hermione said, crouching down to peer up through his body, "why you're in color? Ghosts are generally colorless, in my experience."

"I do not," Snape said, stepping away and eying her with distaste.

"Are you quite certain you're a ghost?" she asked.

"What else should I be, foolish girl? I was bitten in the neck by a giant magical snake and left to die on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. The next thing I know, I find myself here, unable to interact with material objects, and arguing with you over whose quarters these are!"

"You might be a portrait, for example," Hermione suggested. "One without a frame or canvas, to be sure. Minerva said your Headmaster's portrait had gone missing."

Snape scoffed. "Convenient, that. I'm sure I don't know if I am a disembodied portrait. If so, someone had better put me to rights!"

"Absolutely. And I will do everything in my power to help you, I promise. But first I'd like to run a few experiments." She returned to the desk and grabbed a parchment and a quill and began scribbling things down. "First. You say you are only able to appear here, in these quarters. Can you move through walls at all?"

"I don't see what--" Snape began.

"Humor me," Hermione said. "The more we find out about your situation, the better we'll be able to help."

"Don't you think your first priority should be to find my missing portrait?"

"Oh, I'll do that as well. The thing is, the last time I left you, you simply disappeared into thin air. As it seems you haven't any control over where and when you re-appear, I'd like to gather as much information as I can as long as I've got you here. Oh! I nearly forgot!" Hermione went over to the table and picked up the box she'd brought down from the Headmistress's office that morning. "Minerva and I found your things." She held the box out to him.

Snape regarded it with a wary expression. "What is that?"

"Everything Minerva saved of yours. She gave away your clothes -- you couldn't really use them anymore anyway," she pointed out hastily, afraid Snape was going to get even angrier at the fact that nearly all his belongings had been disposed of.

"My possessions encompassed much more than would fit into that box," Snape said with displeasure. "What of my books, my research?"

"Minerva said she had all your books transferred to the library." Seeing Snape's eyes widen in outrage, Hermione explained, "That's good! It's a good thing! Madam Pince will take extra good care of them, you know. You can still read them any time you want... if you are a ghost, that is, and not a portrait."

"Have you forgotten I can no longer open a book? Turn a page?" Snape spat out.

"I'm sure something can be arranged. A student could turn the pages for you," Hermione suggested off the top of her head, trying to find some way to appease him.

"Idiots! All of you, blundering idiots! I don't know why I even bother!" He turned away and began pacing. "If I am a ghost, all I desire is to be left alone, here, in my quarters, with everything put back the way it was."

"But sir," Hermione said, trying to be tactful, "you've just said yourself you can't do anything anymore. What good will it do for your books to mold, and your potions laboratory to collect dust, unused?"

"And so you've come in like vultures, ripped my life work apart and scattered it to the four winds, scavenging the bits and bobs that might be entertaining to imbeciles who have no idea of their importance?"

"That's not quite fair," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall has a lot to take care of. She's practically single-handedly trying to get Hogwarts up and running again."

"To teach another batch of dunderheads to blow each other up," Snape snarled.

"I rather think the point is to teach them how not to blow each other up," Hermione countered coolly.

Snape harrumphed, then pointed at the box. "And what is left of my legacy then, that you've decided is not valuable enough to appropriate for others? A toothbrush and some buttons?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I haven't looked inside."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he drawled. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Still, it's the truth. Your privacy seems to mean a lot to you. I didn't want to invade it more than I already have by being here."

"How noble," he sneered.

"There's no need to be cruel," she said, setting the box down again. "Really, I think you might let go of all this anger. The side you purported to be on won, in case you didn't know. Lord Voldemort is gone. I understand you might have had to put on a show to keep up your cover -- if it was a cover -- but there's no need to play the cold-blooded defender of Slytherin virtue anymore."

"What if it wasn't an act? What if I really am the barbaric bigot you take me for? Would you still be interested in respecting my privacy and helping me figure out what's happened to me?"

"Yes," Hermione said, jutting out her chin. "Because it would still be the right thing to do."

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes. "Spare me!" But he continued to watch Hermione with interest.

"You asked! I admit, I might not have as great an interest in helping you if you weren't dead set on haunting the quarters I've been assigned for the year, but now I'm intrigued. And, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe you were on our side, that you were trying to help the students last year. Neville told some absolutely horrid stories about what went on under your Headmastership. And some of the things you yourself did, to say nothing of what you allowed the Carrows to do."

"I had no choice!" Snape hissed. "If I had protested, the Dark Lord would have removed me in a heartbeat -- and it would have been my last one!"

"I figured it was something like that. But even so, Neville and several other students managed to find ways to fight back. You could have helped them, without the Dark-- without Voldemort knowing."

"You think I knew nothing of their little rebellion? You think I didn't know they were hiding in the Room of Hidden Things for weeks? Who saw to it that there was enough food for the Room to provide for all who sought refuge there? Who ensured that Gryffindor's sword got to Potter? Who stood over his cauldron for hours every night, sometimes going days on end without sleep, to keep the infirmary well-stocked with healing potions?" Snape cried, incensed.

"They wouldn't have needed healing potions if you had fought harder to keep the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts all together!" Hermione threw back at him, although she was already revising her image of the former Headmaster.

"Need I remind you that even the great Albus Dumbledore was removed as Headmaster and replaced with a sadistic High Inquisitor wielding a blood quill, and that was merely when a bunch of bumbling bureaucrats were running the Ministry?"

"At least she wasn't Crucio'ing anyone!"

"It would have come to that, if you hadn't played that clever trick with the centaurs," Snape said, and Hermione could almost have sworn she heard a grudging admiration in his words.

"I always wondered how she got away from them," Hermione reflected.

"They're not monsters," Snape said. "They merely have an overblown sense of justice, and a code of honor that would make even a Gryffindor pale."

Hermione giggled.

"I'm glad you find this all so amusing," Snape said, glaring.

"Oh, come on. You know I'm not laughing at you. You're much funnier now than when you were alive, though."

"I've been honing my wit since crossing over," Snape said dryly.

Hermione cocked her head to one side. "You know, I think it's really too bad that you died."

"Thank you," Snape droned.

"No, really. I would have liked to see how you are without all the Death Eater spy stuff. Would you still have been such a terror in the classroom?"

"With students like Longbottom and Goyle? Indubitably."

"I wouldn't be able to talk to you like this if you were still alive, of course. But death has quite a levelling effect. I rather like it."

"Perhaps we could arrange for you to try it sometime."

"Perhaps," Hermione mused. "Only not just yet. I still have things I want to do, and they involve being able to use my magic and my body."

"I'm sure I don't want to know," Snape said with straight-faced distaste.

"Not like that! I just meant, you know, going places, discovering things... I don't really see myself as a Professor Binns, teaching here forever and ever."

"Nor did I. If you must know, I never enjoyed teaching," he said stiffly. "It was a necessary and convenient cover. If I were still alive, Hogwarts is the last place I would choose to live out my days."

"Which makes it doubly strange that you should still be here," Hermione said briskly. "Perhaps we should get on with our questions, before you fade away again. Moving through walls?" She raised her eyebrows at Snape and nodded her head in the direction of the wall leading into the bedroom. "We know you can appear in the bedroom, so why don't you start with that."

Snape closed his eyes in a put-upon manner. "Oh, very well. I suppose complying with you will be the quickest way to get my rest, wherever that may turn out to be." He floated toward the wall and, as expected, melted away upon reaching it.

"Are you still there?" Hermione called out.

"Yeeessss..." Snape's voice rumbled back from the other room.

Hermione made a note on her parchment. "You can come back out. Right," she said, as soon as Snape had re-materialized. "I'd like to try you moving out of these rooms again, but we'll save that until the end, in case you disappear again.

"Next there's memory. You seem to be fully conversant in all of your experiences during life." She paused and tapped her quill against her cheek. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about your life to probe too deeply... Do you remember your mother's name?"

"Eileen Prince. Really, Miss Granger--"

"Professor Granger," she corrected him.

"--Miss Granger," he repeated, "there is nothing wrong with my memory of my life. It's what happened after..." he muttered, half to himself.

"Yes, you mentioned not knowing where you were today. Is this the first time that's happened? That you had a memory gap? What's the very next thing you remember after the snake in the Shrieking Shack?"

"Nothing! Seeing you here-- there--" He gestured toward the bedroom.

"Really..." Hermione said, intrigued, and made another note. "And before that, nothing? Nothing at all? No darkness, no light at the end of a tunnel, no other spirits--"

"No!" Snape shouted. "Nothing! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Just the once will do, thank you," Hermione said crisply. "Right." She tapped the nib of her quill against the parchment with an air of finality. "Let's just see what happens when you try to leave these quarters. First, through the door."

She went over to the door leading into the corridor and opened it. "If you do disappear, try to take note of where you are. And... try to come back."

"Hmph," Snape grunted. "If only to ensure that my portrait is found and hung with the proper respect."

"Don't worry, we'll find it. Or put you back into it. Whatever turns out to be the case."

Snape scowled, and moved toward the door. He hesitated at the threshold and turned to Hermione. "In case I disappear again..." he began, looking at her hard. "I ... appreciate you going to these lengths to help me."

Hermione felt a smile spread over her face. "You're welcome."

Snape scowled even harder. "And please. Wear something proper to bed. I wouldn't want to be faced with the same vision you subjected me to this morning." Then he moved through the doorway, and was gone.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione called, stepping out into the corridor. "Professor Snape?" She looked up and down the hallway, but all she could see were the wall sconces flaring to life at her presence. She went back into her room. "Professor Snape? Are you still here?"

There was no answer.

Feeling a great disappointment, Hermione closed the door. The room suddenly seemed cold and empty. A shiver ran up her spine. She wished Crookshanks were there for company, but she'd left him with the Weasleys, at least until she was settled in and the school year started. He was in his element, chasing gnomes in their garden. Her parents were still in Australia. As soon as she'd been able after the Battle, she'd gone to them and removed the spell blocking their memories. They were understandably both overjoyed to have her back, and angry about what she'd done. They'd parted on uncertain terms, all of them in agreement that they needed time to think about what had happened. There was no question of things going back to the way they were.

Hermione wandered across the small apartment and found herself standing on the threshold of the side room, where Snape's potions laboratory had been. A vision of him standing there, late at night, feverishly brewing remedies for the curses and abuse the Carrows were subjecting the students to, rose unbidden in her mind. She could fairly see the crease in his brow, the barely suppressed rage in his movements, his sharp features illuminated only by the light from his cauldron fire. The reason for him keeping these rooms, rather than moving to the Headmaster's suite, became clear. There was so much no one knew about him. And he had done it all not to earn public praise or an Order of Merlin, but simply because it was the right thing to do. The only thing he could do.

When Hermione went to bed that night, she left a light on in the living room. In case Snape came back.