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In Search of a Life	By : devsgma Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 2554 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe, nor am I making any monies from the stories I write

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In Search of a Life

by devsgma

T (PG-13)

AN: I've run out of ways to say thank you, Lariope. In Search of a Life, which is told from Snape’s POV, is a sequel to In Search of a Wand. I strongly advise you to read that story first, or this one will leave you completely lost.

The annoying little twit stopped in front of him, wiped her soggy eyes, and had the audacity to glare – at him. After the tongue lashing he’d given Granger, Severus was astonished that she had the fortitude to even look in his direction. She pulled something from her pocket, enlarged it, and shoved it into his middle. Then Granger said the most astounding thing he’d ever heard in his entire life.

“Meet your son. If you have any questions, you can owl me in Australia.”

She’d long since disappeared by the time Severus closed and re-secured the shop door. He stood there for an unknown amount of time staring at the object she’d thrust into his hand, afraid to open it. If she’d told the truth, it contained froth made from dreams. Froth that would surely fade if he allowed himself to believe, even for an instant, that they were actually within his grasp.

Severus made himself put the album down on the counter of the shop while he finished tidying his lab. All the candles had been doused when his hand reached out in the darkness to touch it again.

It had still been there.

It had remained unopened on a shelf in the spartan flat above the shop until he received a reply from a very discreet former… comrade… who fled to Australia after the Dark Lord’s demise. There had been no sleepless nights over Severus’ decision to let this former Death Eater escape detection. He’d been brought into Voldemort’s fold very late in the game; his allegiance forcibly taken. In exchange, his Muggle-born wife and their children had been allowed to flee the country. Severus had had to caution him – more than once – over the expression of horror on his face when confronted with the evil that had been their mutual Master.

The missive arrived on a Wednesday morning, and Esther muttered, “Thank Merlin,” when Severus informed her he would be in his flat for the remainder of the day. He chose to ignore her comment, which had been a reflection of his mood for the past month, and took the unopened letter with him. The kettle had still been warm; therefore, it wasn’t long before Severus sipped a strong cup of tea and contemplated the simple envelope with his name on the exterior.

Severus rose, retrieved the album Granger had left with him and set it beside the envelope on the small dining table. He resumed his seat, folded his hands and stared at first one object and then the other. As long as the letter remained sealed and the album closed, the possibility existed that she’d told him the truth. The son she’d spoken of could never be the green-eyed, red-haired daughter he’d dreamed of having before Lily had married Potter, but he would still be his child. The impossible child Severus thought he had buried alongside her memory.

The cup’s bottom was found, the envelope duly opened, and the letter finally read. It contained the name of a Muggle hospital, a date of birth for one Andrew Matthew Granger, and the current address of his mother, Hermione Granger. It appeared she was living with a Monica and Wendell Wilkins, who had moved to Australia within a month of Dumbledore’s funeral.

Clever, Miss Granger. Very clever.

Did you ever know how fervently the Dark Lord searched for your parents after he almost captured you and Potter at Godric’s Hollow?

Godric’s Hollow on Christmas Eve. London on Boxing Day.

What were you doing there, Miss Granger? Severus silently asked an absent Hermione with a frown on his face. Surely, a witch of your obvious foresight wouldn’t have neglected her contraceptive potion if she’d been out for a mere fling.

Why were you there?

The parchment held no further answers, only more possibilities. The dates were certainly within the time frame Severus had allotted. He tossed it aside in favor of the album that was drawn closer and opened.

“Hello, Andrew,” Severus said quietly as the tiny wrinkled face of a newborn baby greeted him on the first page. “Your hair is quite dark, which leaves Weasley out of the equation. You’ll be quite thankful for that in the future, but there’s still Potter, isn’t there? What color are your eyes, little man?”

Severus searched for older pictures of Andrew and found one near the end that couldn’t have been taken too long before Granger’s visit. The child had been looking up, straight into the camera, a broad smile of delight on his face… and the eyes weren’t green.

“But they’re not brown either, are they, Andrew?” he asked while he leaned closer and peered intently into the captured irises. “No, they’re not. They’re hazel. My mother’s eyes were hazel. Your… grandmother… had the most beautiful eyes,” Severus told the picture. “They would change shades depending on what she wore. They fascinated me as a child.”

The possibility had become a reality. Severus Snape had a son. A son whose mother he’d belittled from the first day she’d become his student. A son whose mother he’d driven from his shop with foul insults and more belittling words.

I’ll never see him in the flesh, Severus acknowledged as he turned back to the beginning of the album and studied, not the child, but the relationships portrayed in the Muggle photos. They showed him a mother – and grandparents – who loved Andrew a great deal. They freely showed him the life of a child who had no need of a father, and the resurrected dream struggled against the cold logic that tried to return it to its tomb.

The battle continued over the next few weeks, logic reigning supreme during the hours Severus labored in his shop. Bitterness would overwhelm him when he realized that the business he’d worked so hard to obtain and improve would never be Andrew’s. It wouldn’t matter that he’d already had a will drawn up leaving it – and Spinner’s End – to his son. Andrew would grow up, without him, in Australia. Severus, and whatever property he managed to acquire during his lifetime, would mean nothing to the boy. They would be sold, and the proceeds sent to a bank “Down Under.”

Evenings found him drawn back to the album to study the face of his son and the people who mattered the most in his young life. Most of all, he pondered what possible motive Granger might have had in mind when she decided to inform him of his progeny. It was quite obvious, from the glimpses she’d thrust into his hands, that she loved Andrew more than Severus thought possible given her reaction when she had discovered who “Hershel” really was.

There are too many missing pieces, he decided one night. Too many to allow me to let it rest.

The next day he arranged for a Portkey, informed Esther and Gertrude that he would be taking at least a week’s vacation commencing in three days, and wondered, not for the first time, if he was bound on a fool’s errand. His contact in Australia, after being assured that he didn’t intend to visit, made arrangements for lodging not far from the Wilkins’ home.

********

The few opportunities in which he’d managed to observe their interactions with Andrew only reinforced the impressions he’d obtained from the photos. The child was well looked after, greatly loved by all three adults in the home, and they didn’t appear to be lacking the necessary funds to continue to support him.

The fourth day of Severus’ visit had come – and almost gone – when the opportunity he’d been waiting for finally occurred. Granger left her residence alone, on foot, and quite intent on where she was going. She made it all too easy to follow her unobserved, and he scowled at her back. She’d grown too at ease with “peace” in his opinion, but then he mentally shrugged when he realized there probably weren’t all that many Dark wizards lurking about either.

Granger’s actions on the playground puzzled him further when he observed the copious amount of tears on her face.

Is she ill… perhaps dying? Is that why she made the trip?

Severus discarded that avenue of thought when he reminded himself that her parents were quite capable of rearing Andrew; there would have been no need to contact him. A shaft of pure ice struck and made him gasp when it occurred to Severus that the child could be the one in mortal danger.

Instead of finding neat little particles to fit the growing picture, Severus had found more holes. Holes he was convinced Granger could fill if asked the right questions. It hadn’t been easy, but the few he managed to wrest out of the belligerent, stubborn little witch had been a beginning.

Then she did the unexpected again. Granger asked if he wanted to see Andrew. The living, breathing, froth of an almost forgotten hope.

“I would,” were the only words his tight throat would allow him to utter.

The frolicking kangaroos displayed on Andrew’s bedding and bunting were completely ignored as Severus beheld what he’d long thought impossible. Wild thoughts ran through his mind and he remembered Granger grabbing for an absent wand. What would it take for me to snatch the small bundle and Apparate away? She wouldn’t be able to stop me. We would be gone in an instant. Untraceable. The railing of the crib creaked slightly under the pressure of his grip, Granger muffled a yawn, and Severus realized he’d been holding his breath.

Am I going insane? Severus asked himself as he retreated from the crib. Am I no better than… the Dark Lord? To even consider ripping a child – my child – away from his mother?

As rude as it was, Severus fled the room and then the house. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the… temptation as quickly as possible until he could regain control. Granger caught up with him before he was able to leave and extended an invitation he couldn’t refuse, but there was one last thing he needed to know if he was going to be able to sleep at all that night.

Severus frowned and then asked, “Why were you crying? On the playground.”

Hermione ducked her head before shaking it and meeting his eyes again. “It’s been a strange evening. One that has taken my emotions from the heights to the depths and back again. I’ve had to make some decisions, and it’s not always easy to reconcile what I want… with what is possible.”

I know the feeling well.

“Ah,” he said with both eyebrows raised. “You and I may have something besides Andrew in common, after all. Good night, Hermione.”

He had lunch with Hermione and her parents the following day, and Severus had been seated almost directly across from his son. The food was eaten, proper responses were offered to conversations, and he even managed to compliment his hostess’ cooking. Later, if Severus were asked what he’d eaten, he would have been able to recite the list, but he would have had no real recollection of how it actually tasted.

Severus longed to drink nothing but the reality of the child as he put a coating of mashed peas on his mother’s arm. He wanted nothing more than to gorge himself on the peals of childish giggles when Hermione gently admonished him. Severus had been quite concerned that anyone looking at him would realize what had occurred and wouldn’t allow himself to openly gaze at his son. The sarcastic bat of the dungeons had fallen hopelessly in love for the second time in his life, and it had taken less than an hour.

Hermione unknowingly threw Severus a life-line when she asked to become his apprentice. It was a fragile one that he reeled in carefully, for he didn’t know quite what he would have done if it had shattered. It hadn’t, and it was that gossamer thread which made the return trip to England – without his son – almost bearable.

Wonder of wonders, the whisper of a thread held and drew his son’s mother back to England. His heart froze in his chest when Hermione announced she would be living under Potter’s roof. Severus, when he’d been released from St. Mungo’s, had sworn he would never willingly suffer that particular person’s painful presence again, but the oath wilted when the remembered echo of Andrew’s laughter touched it.

When Kreacher opened the door of Potter’s house, Severus had been prepared for many things, but he hadn’t been prepared for Potter’s request to call him Harry. The bloody Boy Who Lived had always been the painful reminder of all Severus had thrown away in his hasty youth. The child he and Lily might have had. The dark hair, the green eyes stabbed him anew each time. His actual resemblance to James Potter had been the proverbial salt in the wound that would never heal.

Severus stood on the stairs, raised his chin and looked at the young man who’d just asked him to call him Harry. He waited for the familiar pain to strike, but it never arrived. It took Severus a few moments to understand why. Potter – as annoying as he would always be – was no longer the reminder of the ghost child he might have had. He’d been replaced by Andrew, who was very, very real.

Severus turned, smirked and said, “Albus led me to understand that all things are possible… in time.”

It appears the old bastard was right again.

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In Search of a Life