Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In Search of a Wand	By : devsgma Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 4860 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter Universe, nor am I making any money from my efforts.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
AN: Thank you, Lariope, for all your hard work. Many, many thanks to all of you readers who take the time to read and review!

The Burrow was the first place Hermione visited after finding a place to stay. She hadn’t notified anyone she was returning, mostly because she didn’t want any kind of party to mark the occasion, and partly because she was afraid there wouldn’t be one at all. Since Hogwarts hadn’t re-opened until this past fall, Hermione knew Ginny would be at Hogwarts for her last year, Arthur Weasley would mostly likely be at work, and that would leave Molly at home by herself. Or so she hoped.

Knocking on the door she listened carefully, but didn’t hear anything or anyone moving around inside. After knocking slightly louder, she was about to go around the house and check the garden when the door opened.

“Hermione! As I live and breathe!” Molly exclaimed before throwing her arms around the girl on the stoop.

“Molly… can’t breathe,” Hermione whispered while trying to return the exuberant hug.

“Sorry, but I’d convinced myself I’d never see you again,” Molly stated with a watery smile after releasing the other witch. “Come in, come in! Would you like a cup of tea or juice? I’ve just pulled a sheet of Arthur’s favorite biscuits out of the oven so they’ll go nicely with either.”

“Tea would be wonderful, thank you.”

Molly was still Molly, and Hermione was suddenly quite glad she’d started there. As she followed the Weasley matriarch to the familiar kitchen, it seemed like only yesterday that they’d been preparing for Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“How… how is everyone?” Hermione asked after taking off her coat and sitting down on one of the chairs. As Molly bustled about getting their tea and a plate of still-warm biscuits, she chatted on about different members of her large family. Bill and Fleur were expecting their first child, Harry and Ginny were getting married as soon as she left Hogwarts in the spring, and Percy was seeing a nice young witch named Audrey.

She became quiet while setting their cups on the table, and it wasn’t until she’d taken a sip of tea that Molly continued.

“I’d always rather hoped that you and Ronald would end up together, but I’m guessing that’s not why you’ve returned, is it?” Molly asked while offering Hermione the plate of biscuits.

“No. No, it’s not, Molly. I’m sorry – but it’s not,” Hermione said quietly before taking a small bite of a biscuit. “Is he well?”

“He is, but I should warn you, when he finds out you‘ve returned…” Hermione was quite surprised to see the woman at a loss for words.

“You think he’ll be angry?” Hermione offered with a worried frown.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Molly replied quickly with a sad shake of her head. “He’ll be over the moon, I’m afraid. Let him down gently, please?”

“I already did,” Hermione explained. “When I left to find my parents, I told him there could never be anything but friendship between us.”

“You did?” Molly asked with a surprised expression on her face.

“I did,” Hermione said firmly.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Molly muttered before taking a large bite of a biscuit.

“What exactly does that mean?” Hermione asked.

“He’s been full of all sorts of plans for when you returned, and he’s always been quite certain that you would. He’s still training to be an Auror, of course, but he’s saved every Sickle he could while working part-time for George. He plans to build the two of you a house over on the next hill north of here,” his mother advised with a weary sigh.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione whispered and put her head in her hands.

“I know, dear,” Molly said. Reaching forward, she patted one of Hermione’s knees and added, “It’s not your fault he can’t face facts, Hermione. After Fred… left us, there were a lot of things he refused to acknowledge, and I think – especially if you’ve already told him it could never be – he’s merely holding onto a dream to get him through one day and on to the next.”

That made Hermione feel worse than ever, not that she’d marry the silly twit over it, but some of her tentative plans were abruptly changed. There would be no dinner with just “the boys,” and she’d avoid Ron like the plague if necessary. Her own life was complicated enough without having to relive part of it because Ron was stuck in the past. She was no longer responsible for taking care of him, hadn’t been for over a year, and she was determined no one was going to put her back in that role.

Molly had mentioned Fred’s name, and when she did, Hermione had noted the innate sadness attached to it. It took her breath away whenever she thought of something happening to Andrew, and she wondered how the woman in front of her had managed to survive after the death of one of her children. Bill’s injuries and George’s ear had been bad enough, but to have to bury a child… It was unthinkable.

Hoping to gain a bit more information before she left, Hermione drank half of her tea before asking, “How is little Teddy doing? Harry mentioned him once or twice, and it sounds like he’s growing by leaps and bounds.”

It turned out that Molly didn’t see Teddy very often, but she did have a few pictures she showed Hermione, and they both agreed he was darling. Hermione longed to haul out the shrunken album she’d brought that contained Andrew’s pictures just to show Molly, but the time wasn’t quite right.

His father needs to find out about him before anyone else. I can’t imagine Snape showing off photos, but I can always send Molly a few.

Other names were mentioned and the appropriate happiness or sorrow was expressed depending on the circumstances, and they were suddenly – finally – down to the name that interested Hermione the most.

“What about Professor Snape? Did he make a full recovery?” Hermione asked while picking up another biscuit. “These are really good. Do you think you could give me the recipe?”

“I’d be delighted to,” Molly said with a beaming smile. She immediately jumped up and brought her recipe box to the table before finding a blank card to make a copy for Hermione. Hermione watched while this was done and silently cursed herself for attempting to make the previous questions seem less important to her than they were.

“Here you are,” Molly said as she handed the card to Hermione. “Mind you use fresh coconut and not the dried type, or they won’t taste nearly as good.”

“I will,” Hermione said with a smile while slipping the card into her purse. She had decided that rather than ask Molly – who was no one’s dummy – another question about Snape, she’d do a little research at Hogwarts instead. She was fairly certain he hadn’t gone back to teaching, but it would have been nice to know in case he was there. Molly surprised Hermione by shaking a finger in her direction, and she prepared to swear an oath to use fresh coconut when the older witch started speaking again.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve had to listen to that man rant about your saving his sorry hide,” Molly said with a smile. “I’d visit him every other day while he was at St. Mungo’s – since he had no one else – and I’d be lumped in the same “do-gooder” category he’d put you and Harry in. The blame for that rests firmly at your feet, Hermione.”

“What do you mean? He’s not sorry he’s alive, is he?” Hermione asked, worried that Snape would be extremely angry at being told he was a father, instead of being only mildly incensed.

“I don’t think he is now,” Molly advised. “In the beginning, he was furious about owing you a life-debt. He spouted some nonsense about only just having managed to get out from under the thumbs of his last masters and not needing a mistress taking over.”

“Ah!” Hermione said when enlightenment dawned. “I never thought of that.”

It put a whole new perspective on her situation with her former Potions master. One that could very well turn out to be entirely in her favor.

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Molly said with a chuckle. “And I really doubt he would have either, except Rita Skeeter found out you’d saved his life and wrote a big article for the Daily Prophet, milking it for every last drop of romantic drivel she could.”

“Oh – joy,” Hermione muttered lowly. There was now another angle to worry about. What would Rita Skeeter do with the information that she and Snape had a child in common?

Oh, bloody hell. She’ll turn it into some type of fairy tale love story – or make me out to be a whore for both sides.

“Did he go back to teaching?”

“Heavens, no!” Molly said with a laugh. “He has a small apothecary in Diagon Alley, and from what I hear, since he’s hired someone else to do the actual waiting on customers, his potions sell quite well.”

Good to know, Hermione told herself. They talked of other things while the rest of the biscuits were eaten and the last drop of tea disappeared. Feeling suddenly tired, Hermione stifled a yawn.

“Molly, thank you for the tea, but I really need to go,” Hermione said before she stood and picked up her coat. “I haven’t adjusted to the time change yet, and I’m completely knackered. I just had to stop by and see you first.”

And do a little digging to see what I’m up against.

“That’s quite all right, Hermione, dear. I’m thrilled that you did,” Molly told her as she accompanied Hermione to the door. “I’d insist that you stay with us while you’re here, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now – with Ronald and all.”

“I agree totally, Molly, and it’s fine, really. I’ve got a room at a Muggle bed and breakfast not too far from here, so I’ll be very comfortable,” Hermione told her before giving her a brief hug and leaving.

There was no way she was going to go see Snape before she’d had some sleep and a chance to formulate a plan of action. The last time she’d mapped out a plan on her own that ended up involving Snape, she’d wound up with Andrew.

**********

It took no time at all for the word to spread that Hermione was back. She’d had lunch with one of her old friends from the Muggle world, visited Ginny and Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, and been invited for a supper at The Burrow, where the rest of her friends left alive had gathered. Ron and Harry had been there, of course, but it was easy to avoid any heart-to-heart talks in the crowd of people that were there and wanted to know how her life was going. She had no easy answers when questioned about why she hadn’t as yet found a job, but when she told them that she was looking for a career and not merely a job, the person asking would smile or nod as if that made perfect sense.

Seeing all of them had been wonderful, and she was gratified to think that most of them were gradually putting the tragedies of what they had gone through behind them. There had been smiles, laughter, and many, many hugs exchanged, but there had also been the occasional sad silence when one of the fallen was remembered.

Angelina Johnson had been present, which had rather surprised Hermione until she realized Angelina was there with George. Molly hadn’t mentioned their seeing each other, and Hermione wondered if it was as much a surprise to Molly as it had been for her. If it was, George’s mother handled it well and had given Angelina a hug as warm as anyone else’s.

At the time, Hermione had remembered how different Molly’s reaction to Fleur had been in the beginning. She wondered, briefly, if it had more to do with the person than the circumstances, but she supposed losing a child could change a person’s outlook a great deal.

Having one had greatly changed Hermione’s perspective of the world and her parents’ role in it. Not too long after having had Andrew, she had had a major epiphany and spent three straight days crying and apologizing to her parents for every situation that might have caused them concern while she was making her merry way through the wizarding world. Her mother had smiled gently and explained that she was probably feeling the effects of what was commonly called “the baby blues” and took her back to the Muggle doctor who had delivered Andrew. The medication she had prescribed had helped, but Hermione’s vision of her parents had been altered forever. The advice, freely offered during Hermione’s teenage years, was no longer seen as nagging meant to control, but rather as the love and honest concern they had for her welfare.

All of these thoughts and more ran through Hermione’s head while she watched the interplay between mother and sons. She smiled when she realized that Andrew would have the same feelings toward her that she’d had toward her parents. It was no use thinking she’d do things a tad differently than her parents had because the perspective wouldn’t be there until Andrew had his own children.

“I didn’t think my family was that amusing,” Ron said as he took a seat beside her.

“They’re not amusing, Ron. They’re… they’re dear,” she replied, continuing to study the dynamics between Molly and the rest of her brood.

“Dear? Are you mental?” he asked with a large grin on his freckled face. “Australia’s sent you round the bend, love. It’s a good thing you finally came back to us when you did, or there’d be no hope.”

Hermione’s face lost all traces of a smile as she turned her head to look at Ron. She made sure he was meeting her eyes when she said, “I’m only here for a visit, Ron. I’m not staying.”

She hated seeing the light in his eyes die, but not enough to give him any false hopes. He nodded and dropped his head, but Hermione put out a hand and lifted his chin to meet her eyes again. “Please, understand. My home, my life, is now in Australia.”

“Course I understand, Mione,” he said while brushing her hand away. “No matter what you think, I’m not stupid,” Ron said before he rose and headed out to the garden.

And that was her cue to go running after him, saying everything and anything to try and make peace. He’d be in the garden a long time if he was waiting for her. Harry had looked up when Ron left and then glanced in her direction with both eyebrows raised. She made a slight shrugging motion with her shoulders to convey the idea she had no clue what was wrong with Ron. Harry frowned and soon followed the other man into the garden.

Hermione sighed, rose and made her way over to Molly to begin her good-byes. She didn’t feel like being the recipient of Harry’s dark glares the rest of the evening, not to mention having to put up with the presence of a “wronged” and sulking Ron, so she used the excuse of jet lag yet again. The circuit of the room was quickly made, with a few invitations given and accepted before she was able to leave.

Later, flopping down on the bed in her room after kicking off her shoes, Hermione realized she was still using every delaying tactic she could. Her visit was into the third day, and she still hadn’t worked up the nerve to beard the lion in his den.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered while crooking an arm over her closed eyes.

As surely as if she were in the same room, Hermione could hear her mum’s voice saying, You’re waffling, Hermione. Tomorrow will never come.

“But it’s so hard.”

Then it needs to be done as quickly as possible. The wait is always worse than the deed itself.

The arm across her face was removed, and Hermione sighed again. This business of being a grown-up had been a lot easier to contemplate when she wasn’t actually having to make decisions on her own.

After she sat up, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

“Prove Ron wrong, quit talking to yourself, and do what you came here to do.”

Going straight home wasn’t an option. Her parents would never say they were disappointed in her if she did, but she would be disgusted enough with herself for all three of them.

“Now, not tomorrow,” she muttered before standing up, slipping her shoes back on, and repairing the damage of the day to her hair and make-up. It didn’t take long as she wore very little, and the pins holding her hair in place needed only a small amount of readjusting. Picking up her coat and purse, Hermione concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to think about possible scenarios. She had apparently been a poor judge of character in Snape’s case, and she didn’t imagine she’d gotten any better at guessing what the man would or wouldn’t do.

********

Stepping into The Leaky Cauldron was a trial in itself. One that Hermione hadn’t even thought of until her hand opened the door. She kept her gaze focused on the goal, half afraid that if she saw the bartender from before, she’d chicken out and leave. As she approached the door that lead into the alley, her eyes betrayed her, and she glanced over at the table they’d sat at that night. Three men, obviously enjoying themselves, had claimed it, and Hermione was glad. There was no room for any ghosts her mind might try to supply, and she felt much better about being there.

Once in Diagon Alley, Hermione looked to the left and then right to try and find the apothecary Molly had told her about. A frown marred her face when she noted that many of the shops had already closed for the evening.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said to a passing witch. “Could you tell me where the other apothecary is?”

“There’s only one, dearie,” the woman said. “Right behind you. If it were any closer, you’d be standing in it.”

“Oh, but I thought there was another one now,” Hermione stated while turning to look at the shop which bore the sign Slug & Jiggers Apothecary.

“No,” the woman stated with a frown. “I think it’s gone under new management or some such, but it’s still the only one in the alley.”

“Thank you,” Hermione muttered as the woman hurried on her way. If this wasn’t the right shop, they probably wouldn’t be very forthcoming about the location of a competitor, but she had to try.

When she opened the door, a light tone filled the interior of the shop, and Hermione stood still for a moment, filling her nose with remembered scents and the odors she associated with the infirmary at Hogwarts. Too many memories tried to fill her thoughts, and she firmly chased them away.

“We’re just about to close, Miss,” an ancient woman behind the counter advised. “If you know exactly what you need, I can help you, otherwise; we’ll be open at nine in the morning.”

About to nod and tell the woman she’d be back tomorrow, it dawned on Hermione that this might be the best possible time to try and talk to Snape. There wouldn’t be any customers or salespeople to overhear.

“I don’t need to buy anything,” Hermione told the woman as she approached the counter. “I actually need to speak to Pro – Mister Snape.”

“Oh, he never talks to the customers. If you’ve a complaint of some kind,” the crone advised with a smile, “you need to fill out one of these forms.” Her hand had pulled out a piece of parchment, and she tried to give it to Hermione.

“I don’t have a complaint. I just need to talk to him,” Hermione said firmly.

“I’m sorry, Miss. My orders are clear. He’s not to be bothered by the customers,” the woman said while laying the form on the counter.

“Please, just – Tell him that Hermione Granger is here to see him, please.”

“Here, now. I thought you’d gone off and settled in Austria,” the old woman said while getting up off her stool and moving around to the front of the counter. She held out her hand and added, “Thank you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione had never known quite what to say to people who expressed their appreciation for what had been done during the fight against Voldemort. It had never been an issue in Australia; therefore, she hadn’t gotten much practice.

“Australia,” Hermione said while giving the woman’s hand a firm shake and releasing it as quickly as she could. “I live in Australia now, and you’re welcome.”

“Oh, that ruddy island where the kangaroos and those little gray bears with the great, funny noses live.”

Hermione had never heard it described quite that way before, and she couldn’t help the small chuckle that accompanied her brief smile. “That’s the place. But the koalas aren’t really bears; they’re marsupials. Could you tell him, please?”

“Mar-whatables? Yes, of course! My son is always telling me I’d forget my wand if I didn’t keep it up my sleeve. You wait right here, and I’ll go tell him.” The older witch paused and patted Hermione’s hand. “I’ll tell him, Miss Granger, but there’s no guarantee he’ll agree. He never sees anyone. Ever.”

“If he refuses – tell him I’ll keep coming back until he agrees.”

The other woman laughed aloud before she turned and headed toward a door behind the counter. “I’ll do that. My name’s Gertrude, Miss Granger. Ester will be on duty in the morning, and if he refuses, I’ll leave Ester a note to expect you.”

Hermione waited and took the opportunity to walk up and down the aisles of merchandise for sale. The labels were all hand printed, and either Snape had someone else mark the contents or his handwriting had drastically changed.

Gertrude returned with a traveling cloak around her stooped shoulders and approached Hermione.

“I’m at a loss,” she started out saying to Hermione, who had resigned herself to returning tomorrow. “He didn’t say a word at first, but then he said he’d be out in a few minutes and that I was to close up shop as usual. You can sit on my stool to wait if you’d like. He put a nice cushioning charm on it, and it’s quite comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said and then watched while Gertrude turned the closed sign around and secured the door behind her.

Gertrude couldn’t have taken more than ten steps away from the door when Hermione heard another door close behind her. This was it, then, and she was far from ready.

“I had assumed, when I heard the nasty rumor that you’d returned, that you had the sense to stay away from me, Miss Granger. It appears I was mistaken.”

Hearing that voice, slightly rougher than it had been during her years at Hogwarts, instantly transported her back to the scared eleven year old sitting down for her first lesson in Potions. The implied insult did its work when her hands clenched and her face flushed. Hermione was sure that in his eyes she was still a silly schoolgirl, and she was suddenly quite angry that people, including Ron and Harry, were attempting to keep her locked in the past.

Spinning around, she raised her chin and glared at him. “Do you think you might be able to can the insults long enough to let me tell you what I need to tell you, so I can leave and never bother you again?”

“I know what you’re here to tell me,” Snape snapped back. “I don’t need to hear it, so save your breath, my patience, and just leave.”

His words shocked and appalled Hermione into silence, and her face blanched. How could he know? Unless he’d had her followed or investigated?

“What do you think you know?” Hermione asked carefully.

Her reaction had apparently given Snape food for thought, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“The same thing everyone else seems bound and determined to do. Apologize for not trusting me, but then, yours is a slightly larger burden of guilt, isn’t it?” he stated while walking closer. He stood over her, staring down into her face and hissed, “Did it finally occur to you, that had you not left quite so quickly that night, I might have been able to make contact with Potter, pass on the information Dumbledore wanted him to have that much sooner, and end the stupid war without so many having to die?”

Horror filled Hermione’s eyes as she shook her head. “I never – he wouldn’t have listened! You have to know that!”

“Do I?” Snape asked while his infamous brow rose. “Do I, Miss Granger? How do either of us know what he would or wouldn’t have believed since he was never given the chance? You – or should I say Rowena – was so filled with disgust that her libido had made her bed the dreaded bat of the dungeons she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Weren’t Potter and Weasley enough for you? Or did they prefer each other?”

“No!” Hermione said fiercely. “Don’t do that! Don’t twist what happened and make it worse than it was! I was shocked it was you, yes! But I wasn’t - I didn’t…”

“My memory must be failing,” Snape said while one hand held his chin and he gazed at the ceiling. “I see it quite clearly now. You didn’t leave, and we had a nice chat over tea and toast for breakfast. I was able to slip you the bloody Sword of Gryffindor, Potter didn’t almost die in that stupid pond, and we’ve all been living happily ever after.” Snape’s eyes returned to Hermione’s as he added, “I shall have to send an owl along to Fred Weasley, Tonks and Lupin that they’ve been faking their deaths long enough. Isn’t that a marvelous idea? I’m sure Teddy Lupin will be thrilled when his parents return unharmed.”

Choking back tears, Hermione pulled her hand back to slap his face. The blow never connected as her hand was caught in one of his.

“What’s the matter, Miss Granger? Guilty conscience bothering you?” he sneered.

“Why,” she gasped while pulling her hand out of his grasp, “why do you have to be so bloody awful?”

“Because it works so well for me, of course,” Snape replied before he walked over to the front door and unlocked it. It was swung wide open, and he bowed slightly as one hand made a sweeping motion. “I believe you indicated earlier that you’d never darken my door again?”

Hermione moved forward before she stopped in front of him and wiped her eyes. “Not yet, Mister Snape. You may think you know everything, but you don’t.” She pulled the shrunken album from her coat pocket with a hand that trembled. She quickly enlarged it, shoved it into his stomach, and made sure he had one of his hands around it before releasing her grasp. She took great pleasure in sneering back at him while she said, “Meet your son. If you have any questions, you can owl me in Australia.”

For once she appeared to have had the last word in her dealings with Snape. His mouth opened and closed several times, his gaze going back and forth between her and the album as she walked out of the apothecary and, apparently, back out of his life.

-~*~-
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

In Search of a Wand