Summary: A tragic accident changes Hermione Weasley's life forever. A ghost from her past teaches her about grief and healing. (This story is about Severus and Hermione post-Epilogue. The circumstances of his survival are addressed in subsequent chapters.)
Categories: Post-Hogwarts Characters: None
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Character Death
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 2
Completed: No
Word count: 3172
Read: 2836
Published: 03/13/13
Updated: 03/27/13
Story Notes:
Many thanks to SamusAran/SeverelyLupine for the prompt.
So here's the challenge: Write a fanfic. Any fandom, but you've got to label what fandom it is when you post it to give the reader a fighting chance. There are only three rules:
- Don't use any character names (at least not of any characters who are in the story; it's okay to reference ones that aren't physically present in the fic)
- Don't use any obvious physical descriptions (e.g. glasses/scar/green eyes for Harry, black robes/big nose for Snape, bushy hair for Hermione).
- Don't use titles for characters that would give it away ('Potions master', 'Headmaster', etc.)
Write a fic where the reader can still tell who the characters are just by how they're portrayed (as well as perhaps the world around them and the situation they find themselves in). Also, try to really write the characters in such a way that people who aren't from your particular corner of fandom (at least for the bigger fandoms) can still recognize them. (Like, if you write Snape-centered romance, don't just write Snape assuming that everyone knows he's totally sexy. Write it so that even someone who only reads canon-compliant fics will recognize him, too, even if it's still a Snape romance.) To get around using names, you could stick to pronouns or, if you want, make up different names for the characters (as long as the new names don't give it away, like turning Remus into Romulus or Loup). You can reveal the characters at the end of the fic or let people guess in comments. This could be especially challenging to fanfic writers who usually write non-canon pairings or 'fanon' version of characters, but the challenge is the whole point.
1. What Have I Done? by Sariana
2. At the End of the Day by Sariana
What Have I Done? by Sariana
Author's Notes:
A/N: Inspiration (besides the challenge above): Victor Hugo's Les Miserables The original plot bunny was inspired by the novel. The story and chapter titles are from the Broadway musical. This story is kind of a sequel to a story I haven't written yet. But that's how it goes sometimes. This story is completely un-beta'd. Feel free to point out any errors or inconsistencies. Canon compliant (mostly).
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Les Miserables and owe many thanks to both of them.
"You have a visitor, Ma'am."
The woman in the bed looked up in surprise. A visitor? No one knew she was here; who could be visiting her?
Her eyes drifted to the door, and her breath caught in her throat. For there at the door stood what must be a ghost. The man waited silently at the door, looking intensely at the woman in the bed. She heard the nurse say to him, "She can't speak well yet, but don't worry; she'll regain her voice soon."
The woman knew she must have imagined the slight smile she saw briefly touch the man's lips. If this was the man he appeared to be, the ghost of her memories, he did not smile. Then again, the ghost of her memories would not be here, now, visiting her as she lay injured in the hospital--a Muggle hospital, at that. Perhaps her injuries were more serious than she had been led to believe; did she in fact have a head injury? Or perhaps the medications being pumped into her IV were causing hallucinations. There was no other explanation for the appearance of this man, in her room, announced as her visitor.
As the nurse left the room, the man entered silently.
It was true that the woman had not yet regained the use of her voice; so she waited silently as the man approached her bed. He looked different from how she remembered him; twenty years do change a person. She knew she had changed. But there was no mistaking his identity, despite the impossibility of his presence here.
0~0~0
The man simply stood regarding the woman for several moments. How had she come to be here, in this condition? He knew her injuries were severe; the accident had been serious. He did not yet comprehend her situation, but he chose not to address that question. At present it was more important to gauge her reaction to his unexpected appearance in her hospital room. As yet she had simply gazed at him silently, with little expression on her face. He continued to watch her face as he neared her bed, focusing on her eyes and the confusion he saw there. He kept his expression neutral as he finally spoke.
He tried her married name first but stopped when he saw the pain it caused in her eyes. Next he tried her maiden name, but she shook her head at that. So he reluctantly settled for her Christian name. He saw her eyes widen in surprise and actually had to suppress the grin that threatened to take over his face. It wouldn't do for her to see him grin, of all things.
Remembering her dire health status sobered him quickly, and he continued speaking.
"I am certain that my presence here has surprised you and is causing you to question your sanity. Be assured that I am indeed here in the flesh." He watched her swallow and nod slowly then continued. "It was merely by chance that I became aware of your presence here--both in this town and in this hospital. You see, I read the Muggle news, and I was aware that your parents had relocated here. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was likely to see you here, as well, small town that it is. You should know that I briefly considered relocating, but I chose to retain my life as I know it. I would have hoped that we should meet under different circumstances if our meeting was to be inevitable."
The man interrupted his monologue when he saw the tears forming in the woman's eyes. He was no longer accustomed to speaking at such length, but under the circumstances, he felt compelled to continue. The woman could not very well respond yet, and it seemed important to inform her of his knowledge, seeing as she knew nothing of him or his intentions.
To be sure, he was not completely sure of his intentions himself. He knew only that he could not leave her like this, in this place.
"Correct me if I am mistaken, but I infer that no one else knows you are here. Am I correct?"
After the briefest hesitation, she nodded and lowered her eyes.
"Then I shall send word to..." He paused. Whom would she want to notify of her condition? "Minerva McGonagall? The Minister..." He stopped, seeing that she was struggling to speak. She swallowed several times in a futile attempt to moisten her throat.
"O--own--ly Hair-ry," she croaked.
He nodded. "Very well. And I'm sure I am not mistaken that you do not wish to heal the Muggle way."
Yet again her eyes widened in surprise, or perhaps it was gratitude.
–I have the knowledge and the magical wherewithal to heal you, if you will allow me to do." He waited for her to process his offer and was not surprised to see her nod in acceptance. She trusted him.
"I shall make arrangements to contact Mr. Potter and to have you released into my care."
0~0~0
The woman looked up as the man left the side of her bed. For the first time she noticed a tall, pale young woman standing near the door. The man moved quietly and deliberately, but this woman was absolutely silent. The man spoke quietly to her, so quietly that the injured woman could not hear what he was saying. The silent woman did not say a word but instead made a series of gestures with her hands.
The injured woman was baffled. He knew sign language? The whole scenario was becoming more and more surreal. While the man was a ghost from the past, this unknown woman looked not much more substantial than a ghost in the here and now. She was quite pale, her wispy hair so blonde it was nearly white. She listened intently as the man spoke quietly to her again, and then she slipped silently from the room.
The man spoke more loudly as he made his way back toward the bed. –Lil--Elspeth will send an owl to Mr. Potter and take care of the paperwork to secure your release." The woman was certain he had started to say a different name. She had her suspicions as to what name it was, but she chose to ignore it for now. She struggled to find her voice and was able to form a single-word question: "Malfoy?"
Oddly, the man looked at first startled and then wistful at the mention of that name. "No, she is not a Malfoy, though I do see the resemblance to that family. I shall tell you Elspeth's story if you wish, but not at this time. First I would like to know what you remember of the accident.â€
He could picture the Muggle news article more vividly than he cared to do: "Auto Accident Kills 3, Injures One...recent arrivals and their daughter...unidentified driver killed instantly...sole survivor in serious condition but expected to recover...long rehabilitation...." He had known immediately whom the article referred to, including the identity of the driver, though the Muggle reporters would ever remain in the dark. He supposed he would have to throw them a bone; Muggles liked closure. What harm was there in letting the community know the driver was the woman's husband? A name and a few unimportant details would satisfy them.
The Muggles were a distraction; what mattered right now was this woman's memory of the event. He sincerely hoped she was fully informed, as he did not wish to be the one to deliver the news.
He spotted a cup of water on the side table and gently helped the woman to sip from it. Once she had wetted her throat, she would be able to speak more easily. He noticed her studying him and fully understood her confusion. Twenty years changed a person, and he probably had changed more than most. Once she was satisfied, he replaced the cup on the table and stepped back.
"My...fault," the woman was saying. "All...my...fault." She looked straight at him, and the look on her face would have broken his heart even twenty long years ago, back when his heart had been made of stone.
"What have I done?" She burst into tears.
End Notes:
A/N: The ghostly woman is an OC and is central to the "prequel" I have yet to write, which is the story of how the man came to be here and why.
With apologies to JKR, but she left the door wide open for this storyline. I couldn't resist the temptation to walk through.
At the End of the Day by Sariana
Author's Notes:
Apparently it was not clear to readers that the characters in chapter 1 were Severus and Hermione. (I forgot that I originally posted it on a SS/HG exclusive site, where their identities would be obvious.) I've been told this story must be labeled AU, though Severus's survival is explained in this chapter, and the story otherwise is consistent with canon and takes place post-Epilogue. Also, please note that in chapter 1 the nurse informed the "man" that "the woman's" voice soon would return. It now has done so. I also will be using characters' names for the remainder of the story.
Severus merely stood quietly and let Hermione cry. She needed to do this, to begin to process her grief. He did not know why she was blaming herself--it was the part of the story he had not been able to resolve to his satisfaction. As far as he had been able to determine, Weasley had been driving wholly in the Muggle way, though Severus could not fathom why. Hermione had sat beside him, her parents seated in the back. The Muggle police report had been clear that Weasley was not at fault in the accident. The vehicle had in fact been broadsided by a truck driven by an intoxicated driver. To a Muggle the whole scenario made perfect sense--a family had been devastated by a drunk driver; there was nothing they could have done to avoid the collision.
But to a wizard familiar with both Hermione’s and her husband’s formidable magical abilities, the accident made no sense at all. Why had they not simply removed themselves from the path of the truck? Or removed the truck from its trajectory? Any of a number of simple spells would have been sufficient to avoid the tragedy, yet none had been cast. Somehow Hermione must blame herself for that, though Severus could not comprehend why.
After several minutes, during which Hermione progressed through an entire box of hospital-grade tissues, Severus decided to interrupt her turmoil.
–Hermione.†He spoke gently at first and was not surprised that she did not react. He tried again, with more force. –Hermione!†Still she wept. Finally he resorted to the one tactic he hoped would get through to her. Slipping into an old persona he thought he had abandoned long ago, he spoke with an authority tinged with sarcasm. –Miss Granger!â€
To his immense relief, he saw her back stiffen as her body automatically responded to the memory from her scholastic days. Ever the conscientious student was Hermione Granger. Then he saw her eyes narrow as she processed what he had said.
–…not my name,†she managed to say.
Severus did smile now, his first real smile since entering her room. Hermione did not notice, as she was looking down at the crumpled tissues in her hands. –My apologies,†he said sincerely, –but I did nonetheless manage to get your attention. I understand how you feel--– He held up his hand as he saw her about to speak and interrupted himself. –Oh, yes, loss and grief are two things with which I am intimately familiar.†Though she did not visibly react to this statement, her silence told him she accepted it.
–Hermione,†he tried again. –You were hit by a drunk driver. It was neither your fault nor Mr. Weasley’s. You were the victims of an unfortunate reality of the Muggle world.â€
0~0~0
Hermione was mortified that she still retained such an instinctive response to the voice of Professor Severus Snape. Why, she had not been a student for more than twenty years! How could her muscles betray her so?
Yet this man was not the Professor Snape she had known those long years ago. Rather than sneering, disdaining, or even simply teasing her about Ron’s incompetence, Snape was standing next to her bed, letting her weep without a single disparaging remark, and telling her the accident was neither Ron’s nor her fault.
But she knew differently. It was all her fault, and hers alone, that she had lost nearly her whole family in one fateful moment.
–I wanted…I just wanted…no magic. Just one weekend, with my parents. I insisted. Ron didn’t want to do it, but I know how hard it was for my parents, how they always felt left out. I wanted to give them just one weekend without any magic, do things the Muggle way….†She knew she was babbling, just as she had done as a schoolgirl, but she could not seem to stop herself. It was almost therapeutic, this confession. So she continued to prattle on.
–I could never make up to them for stealing a year of their life. Things were never the same after that. My life as a witch was something I could never share with them; they could never really understand it. I felt torn between two worlds, one foot in Wizarding society, the other in the Muggle world.†She had to stop, for her throat was too dry again. She waited while Severus filled the cup from the small pitcher on the side table, still marveling at the contrast between this man an the one in her memories. What had happened to change him so?
Now he was nodding sagely, and she wondered at the look of understanding on his face.
–As a matter of fact, I have some idea of how that feels. But that still does not explain why you believe yourself to be at fault. The Hermione Granger I last knew was not prone to self-deprecation.â€
–Don’t you see? I made him drive without using any magic. So it was all my fault that we were even in that car, without our wands. We didn’t have them with us at all.â€
0~0~0
Everything was starting to make more sense now. Severus was mildly concerned that she was not in possession of her wand but at the same time was relieved that said wands were not in the possession of the Muggle authorities.
Tiring of looming over Hermione’s nearly supine form, Severus hooked his foot around the leg of the one chair in the room and pulled it over to him. He sat so that his face was level with Hermione’s and began speaking carefully.
–If there’s anything I have learned over the years, it is that life is full of little choices. We tend to focus on the big things: Who will I marry? What career will I have? Will I have children? But the important choices are those we make every single day. And sometimes a seemingly insignificant decision is the one that irrevocably changes the course of one’s life. It’s a struggle to live with the consequences of our choices.†He had to stop here, as the memories of some of his own choices threatened to overwhelm him. He managed to maintain eye contact with Hermione, however, and he saw her expression soften slightly in understanding. She knew of his demons, at least the ancient ones.
Soon he had composed himself and was able to continue. –At the end of the day, we must accept and learn to live with our choices. The most we can hope for as fallible human beings is that we, eventually, can learn to forgive ourselves for our mistakes.â€
0~0~0
Hermione was uncharacteristically speechless. Had Severus Snape found religion? What was all this talk about choices and forgiveness? Of course everyone knew of the horrors in his past, of the terrible choices he had been forced to make between the truly horrible and the utterly unthinkable. But no one knew what had happened to him since. How had he changed so?
Hermione’s thoughts brought her to the logical question. –How is it that you are here? Not here in this room, but here at all? We saw you die--†She choked up, remembering the deaths she had recently caused. How had Snape survived those long years ago, while today her husband and parents were really and truly gone?
Then a horrifying thought occurred to her. –Did you have a Horcrux?†she demanded before she could stop herself.
Snape looked neither surprised nor angry at her question. He looked her directly in the eye and asked her a question in reply. –Do you really think I, of all people, would want a Horcrux?†He said it matter-of-factly, without any hint of irony. –Horcruxes are for those who fear death, and who are willing to commit the unthinkable to thwart it. I had no fear of death; indeed it was living that frightened me. What did I have to live for?â€
Hermione relaxed, for she realized that he spoke in earnest. –Then how?†She left the question hanging.
Severus laced his fingers together and placed his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to Hermione before answering.
–It seems my unwavering loyalty to an old man did not go unrewarded. You are, of course, aware that phoenix tears can heal even mortal wounds. Albus Dumbledore’s Fawkes arrived as I lay teetering between the worlds of the living and the dead. At the time I thought I was desperate to move on. It turns out I had something to live for after all.â€
Hermione remembered the mysterious young woman who had arrived with Snape. Could she be his--
With that thought Hermione lost her composure yet again. –How am I going to tell Hugo and Rose that they’ll never see their father again?†She looked at Snape almost accusingly. –Why did you deserve to live and he didn’t?â€
0~0~0
Severus was not surprised that she had turned her anger on him. He was all too familiar with grief and anguish. He kept his eyes locked with hers, willing her not to look away. –That is a question I cannot answer. I little understand my own presence in this world and do not presume to comprehend anyone else’s. I know only that I was told I was needed here. And so I returned to fulfill a role I never expected to have.â€
At that moment his attention was diverted by a commotion at the doorway. A woman dressed in medical scrubs burst into the room and headed straight for Hermione and Severus.
–Ready to go, Mrs. Weasley?â€
A/N: Though I have ended the challenge of not using names, I have continued with the challenge I set for myself. Besides using the title of Les Miz songs for my chapter titles, I also have included a small portion of the titular song in each chapter. Even if only three or four words, there is a phrase in Chapter One from the song –What Have I Done†and a phrase in this chapter from –At the End of the Day.†This has proven to be a more difficult challenge but is one I plan to continue for the rest of the story.
A/N2: I really didn’t want to kill Ron, but I also didn’t want Ron and Hermione to choose to split. It was important to me for this story at least that she really and truly loved him. So death was the only way to get rid of him.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.