Never Give Up, It's A Wonderful Life

Chiodos - "Closed Eyes Still Look Forward"

Chapter 7

The next morning, Hermione was pleased to find Snape standing in front of the window-picture out in her living room when she emerged from her morning toilet. She'd taken longer than was usual for her, it being awkward to wash so much hair under the tap in the bathtub.

"Good morning, Professor," she said with a friendly smile. "Have you been here long?"

Snape scowled. "Lie-a-bed. The sun's been up for over an hour."

Hermione came over to admire the landscape. The sun shone in orange shafts over the nearby mountains, and the grounds below were still covered in a thick mist. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione said.

Snape grunted, which Hermione took as agreement he was too embarrassed to admit to. They continued to watch the scene, the mists barely perceptibly shifting and thinning as the warmth of the morning rays dissipated them.

"I'll be seeing Malfoy later today," Hermione finally said, when the silence became pressing.

"We have established that my memory of events within these rooms is impeccable."

"Do you have any advice for me? The last time I saw him, I was being tortured by his sister-in-law in his drawing room," Hermione said, her voice becoming thin. "I'm not quite sure what the etiquette books say about that."

The corners of Snape's lips turned down, and his nostrils flared while he continued to stare straight ahead at the magical window. "You will have him at a disadvantage. You are a witness to his guilt. He will want to give you something to assuage his conscience. But he will never admit it. Let it seem as if you want much more, but will settle for this small concession."

"It may be that he really doesn't know anything," Hermione pointed out.

"He will do anything to rid himself of this obligation to you. He will either give you the information himself, or offer to put you in touch with someone else, who in turn may or may not know something helpful."

"I won't give up until we have closure for you," Hermione promised. "You deserve at least that much."

Snape had no answer to that. After a bit, he asked in a low voice, "Was it the Cruciatus?"

Hermione nodded, understanding that he was referring to her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Yes."

"Do you still experience... aftereffects?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes. Just a twinge. In my back." In fact, sometimes the 'twinge' kept her paralyzed with pain for several seconds.

"I created a nerve relaxant potion which I found useful. Unfortunately, it has disappeared along with everything else I kept in my private stock here. Perhaps it found its way into Poppy's stores. There was no label. It was in a blue flask."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "I'll make sure to ask her." Her stomach took the brief silence then as a cue to growl loudly.

"I guess I should be getting up to breakfast," Hermione said with a rueful smile. "I'm going to be busy working most of the day. I need to get my classroom set up. I'll be sure to come down and report on what I find out from Malfoy. Feel free to... make yourself at home," she added, feeling a bit foolish, as this had been his home before it was hers.

"I won't be here long, if you are leaving. I do not seem to be able to remain here when you are absent," Snape informed her.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Really? How curious. So last night..."

"After you left, I remained here for a brief time. A couple of minutes at most. Following that, I recall nothing until I re-appeared here this morning."

"And I've rarely been here without you appearing, either," she said, experiencing that familiar feeling of excitement when pieces began falling into place. "I wonder if that's a clue. You appear whenever there is a living person here."

"I did not appear when Minerva cleaned these rooms out," Snape pointed out.

"Maybe there was some other trigger then, something that called you back, that only began after Minerva had been here. Maybe she removed something important, or disturbed something. Something in your box, maybe?" Hermione jumped over to the small chest she'd left on the table, thoughts of breakfast forgotten, putting her hands behind her back to stop herself from opening it right away.

Snape moved over next to her. "I can hardly imagine what." He gave her an odd look. "Go ahead, then, open it! You look as if you're about to burst with curiosity."

"Are you sure it's all right? I don't want you to think I'm taking liberties with your things."

"I've said you may open it! That was one thing I always detested about teaching: having to repeat myself constantly."

Hermione carefully undid the catch and swung the lid open. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the actual contents didn't look very exciting. Just some papers and odds and ends. She took them out one by one and laid them carefully on the table.

"That was my first wand," Snape said to the first item. "We couldn't afford one from Ollivanders, so my mother scrounged one up from some acquaintance of hers or other. It never worked properly for me. Slughorn saw to it that I got a new one in my second year. I had to make sure to take the old one home with me over the holidays, though, so she wouldn't know."

Hermione didn't probe further. The next item was familiar: a broad, green, Slytherin scarf. Not one of the long, striped ones that the students wore in the winter, but one of the old, cravat-style ones that were worn with formal robes.

"We used to have to earn those," Snape remarked. "You couldn't just owl-order them from Madam Malkin's. I didn't get one until fifth year. Malfoy got one as a first-year, of course."

Something golden glinted down in the corner of the box. Hermione reached in and extracted a plain gold ring. She recognized it as a wedding band immediately. Her heart began thumping hard in her chest. Had Snape been married?

"That was my mother's," Snape announced, putting an end to Hermione's train of thought. "She took it off when my father died, and kept it in a box on her dresser. She never got over the fact that their marriage failed. I think she mourned the marriage more than she mourned him personally. Then, when she died a couple of years ago, I didn't know whether to have her buried with it or not. I thought if she'd wanted it, she would have worn it, if only around her neck. On the other hand, she never threw it out. I couldn't bring myself to, either. And I suppose Minerva fell victim to the same sentimentality."

"Maybe she thought it was yours," Hermione suggested. "I mean, your wedding band. Maybe she thought you'd been married. I thought it was yours, just now," Hermione explained, shyly.

Snape snorted. "I spent barely a day out of Minerva McGonagall's sight from the day I set foot in Hogwarts, apart from holidays, of course. Believe me, I couldn't have hidden a secret wife from her." He regarded Hermione with a measured look. "But I am... oddly flattered you thought I might have married at some point. What did you think happened to my proposed wife?"

Hermione was irritated at his poking fun at her. "I didn't think that far. It was only for a moment anyway, until you explained." She reached into the box again, this time pulling out a piece of paper that was torn in half.

Snape leaned over to read it, then stood up abruptly, sniffed, and walked away.

"Burn that," he said shortly.

"What is it?" Hermione said, resisting the urge to read it without his permission.

"I said burn it!" he shouted. "What did I just say about repeating myself?"

"It might be something important," Hermione hedged. "You kept it for some reason, after all."

Snape stalked back to Hermione and put his face so close to hers she would have felt his breath, had he had any.

"Fine," he hissed. "Do what you want with it. It means nothing to me. Burn all of it!"

With an angry wave of his hand and an exclamation of frustration, he tried to sweep everything off the table, to no effect.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to burn your things," Hermione said as she gathered everything back up and put it back into the box. "Something's upset you, but when you've calmed down --"

"Do not treat me like a child!" Snape roared, clenching his fists and pounding them against his forehead in frustration.

"Then don't act like one!" Hermione said firmly. She punctuated her statement by snapping the lid shut. "I know this is a difficult situation for you, not being able to do anything yourself, but you don't need to take it out on me. I am going up to breakfast now. I expect to have some news for you when I return, after I've seen Malfoy."

But Snape had retreated to the corner and demonstratively turned his back on Hermione.

"Things are going to get better soon, Professor," she said more gently. "Just hold on a little while longer. I promise."

======

At breakfast, Hermione asked Professor McGonagall if she'd been able to get the portrait moved out of storage yet.

"Not yet, Hermione," Minerva said, sounding slightly harried. "It doesn't do us any good to have the portrait downstairs without anyone able to check the charms on it, and if necessary re-cast them. I need to get the artist to come to Hogwarts personally, and I promise I'll send him an owl today. As soon as I'm done with this dreadful inspection by the Governors." She shuddered.

Minerva held a staff meeting after breakfast so that all of the professors, House heads, and other staff could brief her on any progress being made in their areas, in preparation for the Governors' visit. Hermione felt decidedly odd sitting around the table with so many of her former professors and other adults who had been in positions of authority over her only a few months earlier. She felt slightly naughty, as if she'd crashed the meeting and it was only a matter of time before someone called her out.

No one did, though, and following the meeting, Hermione and Professor Vector went up to the classroom they would be sharing, to discuss scheduling, logistics, the arrangement of furnishings, and so on. She was tempted to tell the Arithmancy professor about Professor Snape, but for some reason refrained from doing so. It seemed like the sort of thing Snape wouldn't want spread around; at least not until he had been properly returned to his portrait, or whatever the solution turned out to be.

The Governors were scheduled to arrive after lunch. Only the Headmistress, the House heads, and Mr. Filch were included in the tour, but Hermione wanted to get a glimpse of Malfoy before she had to see him one-on-one, in order to prepare herself mentally. Feeling even more like a naughty schoolgirl than she had during the staff meeting, she settled herself behind a column on a landing above the entrance hall, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself for good measure.

The Governors arrived in a group -- all twelve of them -- but it didn't take any time at all for Hermione to spot Malfoy's white-blond head in their midst. He looked thinner than she remembered, his aquiline nose now nearly as prominent as Snape's own hooked one. He was still a flamboyant dresser, though, and Hermione could fairly see the velvet on his cape shimmering even from her vantage point.

Once everyone had divested themselves of their cloaks and capes, the Headmistress ushered the group into the Great Hall to begin the tour with a welcome speech, and Hermione emerged from her hiding place. She wished there were someone she could discuss last-minute strategy with, but she didn't feel up to another row with Snape. The man was in turns infuriating and fascinating. He was making it exceedingly difficult to help him, but there was something about him that made her not want to give up yet.

It went beyond merely wanting to have her rooms to herself, or seeing justice done. In her conversations with him, despite his bristly exterior, she sensed a loneliness in him. He was someone who yearned for companionship but didn't know how to go about getting it; or even more, had yet to admit to himself that he desired it. He said he wanted only to be left alone, yet the fact that he kept returning to her quarters only when she was there had to mean something. She didn't flatter herself to think it had anything to do with her personally; the same thing would have happened if Dawlish or Professor Trelawney had been quartered there instead. Although the thought of Professor Snape barging in on the Divination professor in her skivvies sent Hermione into a spasm of giggles.

In order to distract herself and calm her nerves, Hermione decided to take a walk around the grounds. It was a pleasant late summer's day, with a gentle breeze that kept her from working up a sweat as she walked. Invigorated by the fresh air after spending so many days indoors -- many of those hours below ground -- Hermione extended her stroll and soon found herself on the familiar path to Hogsmeade village.

Rebuilding was well underway here as well, with stacks of stones lying ready for a Magimason to charm them in place, and piles of debris left next to the street, waiting to be Evanescoed. She had no particular need of anything from the shops, and having just eaten lunch less than an hour before, didn't feel like going into any of the pubs, so she contented herself with walking down the main street, greeting the occasional shopkeeper or resident she recognized from earlier visits, or from the Battle, and acquainting herself with the newest articles in the shop windows. Having spent so much of the past year spent on the run and in hiding, she felt a bit as if she had gone through a time warp.

Mindful of the time and not wanting to miss her appointment with Malfoy, Hermione was about to start back when she caught a glimpse of that familiar, old, run-down building on the edge of town, and before she knew it, her feet were carrying her down the path to the Shrieking Shack.

She wondered why it was actually still standing, and who owned it. It was unusual for a piece of property to remain empty and unimproved for so long. It was likely that it had belonged to the school, at least back when Lupin was a student. It would have been the only way to guarantee a safe place for him to transform. But after he left school, why had Hogwarts held onto it? Perhaps Dumbledore expected more werewolves to come -- and perhaps they had, Hermione realized. She had no way of knowing how many other werewolves had been educated at Hogwarts under Dumbledore in the intervening years. It might even still be in use today. She couldn't help but be intrigued at the thought that one of her fellow students might have been a werewolf.

That was neither here nor there, though. She stopped at the fence bordering the property and looked at the weathered, gray siding, the peeling paint and dilapidated roof. If it did belong to the school, and if it was really being kept as a 'safe' place for werewolves to transform without harming themselves and others, did it need to be in such a state? She realized that the townspeople probably wouldn't willingly agree to host transformed werewolves in their midst, and that the property was better accepted under the ruse of being abandoned and perhaps haunted. But this was nearly the twenty-first century! Surely with the proper precautions, and the implementation of Wolfsbane, a place could be provided for werewolves to transform without danger to anyone and still maintain their dignity.

Hermione creaked open the gate and approached the old house. The windows were dark, as if it were nighttime inside, and huge spider webs draped down from every eave. Really, as long as they were rebuilding everywhere else, would it take that much more effort to pitch in and give this place a facelift? She knew Minerva had more than enough on her plate at the moment, but she meant to mention it to her.

In order to form a better picture of the state of the property, and estimate how much work would need to be done inside, Hermione mounted the steps, taking note of the missing boards, and found that the front door was not even locked -- she shook her head at that; merely the rumor of ghosts would hardly keep curious townspeople out during the full moon.

Inside, it was another world. The smell, the dim lighting...Hermione was instantly transported back to that night during the Battle. She hadn't consciously made the connection on approaching, hadn't thought it could hit her so hard. She lit her wand to dispel the images, but even then could fairly hear Voldemort's unearthly voice, feel the vibration of Snape's body hitting the floor. Knowing that for her own sanity, she should leave this place, she nevertheless found herself inexorably drawn to the room where it had happened. The door was standing ajar -- had they left it like that when they removed Snape's body? She pointed her light at the floor, and could see a slightly darker path in the dust, leading from this room to the front door. Inside the room, the floor was full of swirls and patterns where the dust had been disturbed by many feet.

And there, unmistakable, covering a good half of the floor, was a huge dark stain: Snape's blood. Had no one been in to clean it up? Hermione wondered with disgust and affront. She lifted her wand to perform a cleaning spell, then hesitated; maybe there was a reason it had been left? Or maybe it was impossible to remove, having been caused by Dark magic. She kept her wand up in a defensive posture, made uneasy by the evidence of Snape's murder, and took an uncertain step back. In doing so, she stepped on something small and round, and nearly fell over.

She bent over, holding her wand close to the ground, and saw a small brownish cylinder, about an inch and a half long. A cork from a bottle of butterbeer. There were several others as well, scattered back against the wall. Hermione picked up the one she had stepped on. It was bad enough that no one saw fit to maintain the property, or even clean up out of respect for the victim after such a brutal murder... but apparently the town's youth were now sneaking in and having parties. Absently, she pocketed the cork. It was high time she got back to Hogwarts.

As she walked, she became more and more worked up. Yes, there were many things that needed urgent attention in order to open Hogwarts on time for the start of term. Yes, the way the Ministry and the Governors had structured things, there were too few people with too many responsibilities. Yes, the living needed to look forward and improve the world they had been left with. But, she couldn't help thinking, Snape was also just one case. How many more bodies had been lost? How many more crime scenes were left abandoned? How many more treasured possessions had simply been disposed of or boxed up and forgotten?

By the time she arrived back at the castle, she was no longer nervous about meeting with Malfoy. In fact, she had worked up enough righteous indignation to confront not only him but the rest of the Governors as well with all of the injustices she had uncovered and demand what exactly they were going to do about them. However, she realized it wouldn't be prudent to make new accusations at this time, not if she hoped to achieve her original goal of recovering Snape's body. And so she resolved to remain calm and inoffensive, and to follow Snape's advice and let Malfoy think he was doing her a favor and repaying a debt.

Hermione found that she was just in time; as she entered the main hall, the Headmistress was leading the Governors and their entourage down the stairs, apparently at the conclusion of their rounds.

Malfoy broke off from the group when they reached the ground floor and approached Hermione with a look of insincere pleasure on his face.

"Miss Granger!" he effused. "I'm so pleased you contacted me. It is indeed fortuitous that I find myself able to accommodate you so quickly. It would have been inconvenient had you needed to come to the Manor, n'est-ce pas?" He smirked.

"Quite," Hermione agreed frostily. She wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily this time. "I assume the Headmistress did not mention changing her mind about my employment in the course of the afternoon?"

Malfoy was caught off-guard. "Pardon?"

"I'm certain the Governors were informed of my appointment to the post of Muggle Studies Professor."

"Yes, of course," Malfoy said testily, looking around at the other Governors, who were loudly taking their leave from one another, but not so loudly as to be unable to overhear their conversation.

"I must have misheard you then -- and misread your note. I seem to have missed the title 'Professor'."

Malfoy appeared to be maintaining his facade only with difficulty.

"No doubt my hearing and vision were compromised by the tortures I was subjected to during the course of the recent unpleasantness," Hermione said as sweetly as possible.

Malfoy scowled. "I presume you have prepared a quiet corner where we can speak without being disturbed?" he asked pointedly.

She hadn't, but in a castle the size of Hogwarts, there was always an unused room to be had. "This way," Hermione said, leading him to the chamber off the main hall which usually served as the staging area for the first-years before the Sorting.

"I don't know what you think you're playing at--" Malfoy began, as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"I'm not playing at anything, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione interrupted him. "I am merely pointing out the respect which is due the office -- if you cannot bring yourself to respect the person."

The corners of Malfoy's mouth turned up in a thin smile. "Respect is only due to those that deserve it."

"Are you saying -- as a Hogwarts Governor -- that a professorship is not worthy of respect?"

"Come now, Miss --" He rolled his eyes as Hermione opened her mouth again. "All right, if you insist, Professor Granger. Muggle Studies? Really," he drawled in derision.

"And yet the Governors still see fit to endow the position. Odd, that."

"Hmm, yes. A change may indeed be in order," he mused. "Is that what this is about? But how tedious. I thought we were going to discuss a mutual friend of ours."

"Professor Snape, yes. There is actually a matter I would be very interested to hear your opinion on. But the other is important, too. It all comes down to the very thing we've been speaking of: respect."

"I always had the greatest respect for Snape. If only I'd known he was working for Dumbledore all along, the two of us might have been able to pool our resources much earlier. But he had me fooled, along with everyone else," Malfoy finished with a show of regret.

"So everyone in Voldemort's camp thought Snape was one of them? There was no question?"

"How else was he able to worm his way into the Dark Lord's good graces, and remain there for so many years? It is true: my poor, deluded sister-in-law questioned his loyalty many times, but then she was out of her mind," he said sadly, his gaze lingering on Hermione's face. "Quite mad. Can't be held accountable. No doubt that would all have come out, had she lived long enough to be treated..." He let the words dangle there meaningfully.

Hermione refused to be side-tracked, although the man's effrontery made her blood boil.

"We're speaking of Snape," Hermione reminded him -- and herself. "It has come to my attention that no one quite seems to know what happened to his body. Apparently, by the time someone from our side was able to get to the Shrieking Shack, he had disappeared."

Malfoy merely raised his eyebrows. "How awkward," he commented. "I do hope you're not accusing me of body snatching?"

"'Accuse' is such a harsh word," Hermione said. "But did you? Remove Snape's body? Perhaps put it somewhere else, 'for safe keeping'?" she bored further.

"Professor Granger, I am insulted," he said, twitching his robes so that they flared out around him. "Severus Snape is a war hero. The mere suggestion that I would want to deprive him of the proper respect due him-- I've a good mind to end this audience right now." He glared down at her.

"I'm not suggesting that at all, and I beg pardon if it came out that way," she gritted out. "But as you said, you were under the thumb of a very powerful, Dark wizard. I believe you mentioned something about the Imperius. If you did -- hypothetically -- have something to do with spiriting the body away, perhaps intending even to preserve it from desecration..." Surely she'd given him enough excuses to choose from now!

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, thinking. Finally, he said, "I have no memory of doing so. However, as you say, it is possible that such a scenario as you suggest took place ... Out of the respect and deep admiration I have for Professor Snape -- Headmaster Snape -- I will make some inquiries. Many of the potential witnesses are, unfortunately, incarcerated... It may take some time."

"I'm sure Professor Snape would appreciate it-- If he could, I mean," Hermione added, trying to cover up her near flub.

"What is your interest in this, anyway? I'm certain there was no love lost between yourself and Snape. In fact, if I recall correctly, there was a particular animosity between him and your precious Potter."

"I just want to see justice done," Hermione said vaguely, counting on that being a Gryffindorish enough answer to put Malfoy off inquiring further.

Malfoy regarded Hermione for a moment longer than necessary, before saying coolly, "Yes, well. As I said, I'll see what I can do. And now I really must be off. I've already missed the train back to London." He moved to the door, the audience clearly over.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said. "And do give my regards to Draco and your wife. I know they tried to help as best they could." This last part she even meant sincerely; she knew Draco had done his best not to identify them at the Manor, and Harry had told them how Narcissa had flat out lied to Voldemort in the forest, in order to protect him.

Malfoy merely gave Hermione a side-long, suspicious glance, and took his leave.

Hermione sighed and followed him out. Some things would never change.

Author's note: Mmm... loves me some Lucius. He's just so fun to play with.