Snape Redux

Snape Redux

By April Grey

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

Chapter 13 – Midsummer’s Eve, Part I

A/N: Originally intended as one chapter, I threw in the towel and split it into two chapters once it ran over 6,000 words. No cliffies at the end of this section.


“Harry, Harry wake up. I’ve located Snape.” Hermione was shaking her friend, having already cast a sleep spell over Ron.

Harry groaned and reached for his glasses. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I figured out where he is hiding. Also we need to bring the rattle. It does have something to do with the fifth Horcrux after all.”

“Hermione, are you sure?”

“Never more so,” she whispered. “Hurry up and get dressed. Meet me outside the Burrow.”

She was fighting the Imperius Curse, fighting with all her might, but Snape’s will was stronger than her own. She felt like a helpless puppet as she obeyed his commands to betray her friend.

Harry met her outside the Burrow. “Do you have the rattle? Show it to me.”

Harry produced it and handed to Hermione.

“Thank you. We’ll Apparate there and take him by surprise.”

“Why didn’t Ron wake up?”

Hermione grabbed Harry by the waist and they Apparated.

“Expelliarmus,” Snape casually drawled, another flick of Snape’s wand and Harry found himself wrapped in vines.

Hermione just stood there with a blank expression on her face.

“Damn you, what have you done to Hermione?” yelled Harry.

Snape ignored him and turned to Hermione. “The rattle, please.”

Hermione, still trying to fight it and shaking with the effort, handed over the rattle.

Snape took it and examined it. “Yes. I wish I’d known of this sooner,” he said to himself.

“Snape, you fucking wanker! What did you do to her?”

“Scourgify!”

Harry’s mouth filled with suds. Snape smiled. Hermione trembled--she was trying as hard as she could. Tears collected in her eyes.

“Relax, Granger. It will all be over in a moment. Then you can have your precious Potter back.”

He placed the rattle on the ground several feet away from where Harry was struggling with his bonds and spitting soap. He walked a few steps away and then suddenly turned with his wand pointed directly at Harry. “Mobili-horcrux.”

Harry started to sweat, then in spite of the soap in his mouth he screamed as the scar on his head got brighter and flared crimson.

“Protego,” and a shield erected between Harry and where Snape stood with Hermione. Harry screamed until Hermione feared his vocal cords would break.

In shock, Hermione stopped fighting the curse as the scar on Harry’s forehead took on a life of its own. It turned into a small crimson snake and wriggled off of his forehead into the air!

It writhed upwards and completely off of his body. Snape was chanting, his voice still hoarse from the punishment at Voldemort’s hand. His wand directed the living scar downwards into the rattle. The snake wrapped itself around the rattle and then turned into a bright green mist that was absorbed into the metal.

Snape collapsed. Hermione wanted to sob but the spell wouldn’t let her. Harry had gone very quiet and then after a few minutes he yelled, “Snape!”

“Not a word, Potter,” Snape said pulling himself up and pointing his wand at Harry again. “Not a word or you shall suffer something a bit worse.” He slowly got to his feet and turned back to the newly activated Horcrux--the one that had originally been intended for Harry, but had been created by Lily’s death instead. Snape spoke quietly, as if talking to himself.

“Now here is the most dangerous part. The curse on it has now been activated but not triggered. And I am bloody well clueless as to what it’s going to do.” He stood there, tapping a finger against his cheek.

“You’re a fucking bastard, Snape!” yelled Harry.

“Fucking bastard, indeed.” Snape still seemed to ignore him. “Granger, take him back to the Burrow. Once there you will discover you are no longer under an Unforgivable. Say Potter,” he looked over his shoulder at Harry, “wouldn’t you just love to know what else she did for me while under my spell?” He leered, “Your Mudblood friend here certainly is a ‘tasty’ bit of all right.” Just the tip of his tongue moistened his upper lip. “Now go!” he said in silky tones.

Hermione found her body moving forward. She picked up Harry’s wand on the way. She knelt by Harry, took his hand and they Apparated back in the yard behind the Burrow.

Snape hadn’t lied. Once there, she was free of the Unforgivable and she started crying. Harry was cursing and wiping off the last of the soapsuds from his mouth.

“What’s going on out there?” it was Mr. Weasley in a nightshirt sticking his head out an upper floor window.

“I’m sorry.” Harry called out, “Couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk and stubbed my toe.”

“Oh, is that all?” Mr. Weasley, father to George and Fred, knew better than to look too hard at a seemingly sensible excuse.

“I’m leaving, Harry.” Hermione was breathing hard, trying to push her emotions down again. She had never been so humiliated in her life.

“Hermione, did he take advantage of you? You need to talk about this!”

“No. We’ll talk in the morning. I don’t want to be caught here.”

“I’ll kill him. I’m going to find him and kill him.”

“Harry, are you talking to someone out there?” asked Mr. Weasley, returning to the window.

“Just coming in, sir,” he told Mr. Weasley. “All right, Hermione, but first thing tomorrow we talk.”

Hermione returned to her room.

Damn you, Severus, she thought. You could have just asked for my help. You didn’t have to do it that way.

She continued to silently rage. He could have trusted her. She was torn between her need to be furious with him and her desire to analysis it all.

What had Snape done to Harry? So the rattle had been prepped as a Horcrux, but his mother had died instead of him. Voldemort’s soul had still torn even as he was injured, but the torn off part of his soul hadn’t made it to the rattle; instead, it had become Harry’s scar. Harry had been the fifth Horcrux, but he’d been a living one, just as Dumbledore supposed Nagini was the sixth.

“Severus, why didn’t you trust me?” She could answer her own question. If she had helped of her own free will and something had gone wrong, then she would have been seen as his accomplice. He was protecting her! But it was more. He was whipping Harry up to a frenzy. Hinting that he’d used her sexually in addition to a slur on her background guaranteed that Harry wouldn’t just kill Voldemort when he had a chance, but Snape as well.

Hermione was going back. What if the curse on the Horcrux was too much for him to handle? She had to help him, that took priority over her hurt pride. She had to make him see how stupid he was being with his self-hating vendetta.

She Apparated to the area just outside the barn.

“Lumos”, slowly she walked in.

“Severus?” She heard nothing and walked into the barn. Other than a small singed spot on the floor of the barn where the rattle had been, there were no signs that he’d ever been there.

“Dammit, Severus, when I catch up with you—” she shook her head. She was angry with him, yet couldn’t hold it against him. She went back to Grimmauld Place and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of Horlicks. At this point it was the only way she could sleep outside of sleeping potion.

&&&

Snape Apparated into the safe house of the Death Eaters. He was in a foul mood and if even one of those brown-nosing idiots showed his face tonight, Snape would hex him to Hell and back.

He had his bedroll, some food, some left over money and his bottle of whiskey. All that really mattered was the whiskey. His last night on Earth and he’d managed so far to have psychic sex with a student of his, use an Unforgivable Curse on her, wash out Potter’s filthy, little mouth, destroy a Horcrux which had nearly gotten the best of him, and now, now he was going to get rip roaring drunk.

He opened the bottle. “To the beautiful, not too virtuous and, in fact, incredibly perverse Miss Granger,” was his first toast. He took a swig from the bottle and it felt good. In the middle of his last toast, “to the woman I luff, whose got the most amazing lil’ fanny in either the Muggle or Wizarding Wor—,“ he passed out behind the couch. Which was a good thing, because when Nott’s wife and Yaxley came by for a quick slap and tickle, they never even saw him.

&&&

“How long has he had you under Imperio? Days? Weeks?”

“Harry, have you gone round the bend?” asked Ron.

“Ron, Snape hinted that he sexually abu--had his way with her.”

“What the—the bastard. Did he touch you, Hermione? Cause if he did--”

“Let her answer, Ron.” Harry was pacing around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. “It seems a bit convenient that you were able to defeat two Horcruxes at Godric’s Hollow and then Snape just happened to know about the Ravenclaw Rattle as a third Horcrux.”

“What are you suggesting, Harry?” said Hermione, trying to decide how much of a lie was needed.

“Exactly how long did he have you under Imperio?”

Ron went even redder, “Hermione, what did he do to you?”

“Oh Merlin, the two of you—“

Hermione closed her eyes. She could say she’d been under since she left her parents. It would explain her behavior, it would take care of everything and all their problems would be swept under the carpet. But Damn It All, NO!

“Not that I feel I owe an explanation to you, with you both jumping all over me. But it’s very easy to explain. I received an owl.

“It wasn’t Viktor’s handwriting but it didn’t look like Snape’s either. In it, Viktor said he’d hurt his arm at Quidditch but still wanted to rendezvous with me later than night.”

She glared at the two boys, daring them to say anything.

“There was a portkey attached and set to go off in a couple of minutes. I had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.” Again, she waited but no interruption came as her friends merely watched her without judgment.

“When I arrived, Snape was there. He was a gentleman. ALL RIGHT? No inappropriate touches. He used Legilimency on me and found out about the rattle. And I was able to pick up a couple of bits of information while he was in my mind. One, he wants revenge, not just against you, Harry, but also against Voldemort for killing someone he loved. And two, he’s not mentally well. He wants you to kill him as part of his revenge—“

“With pleasure,” said Harry, looking a bit feral.

“I’m right behind you there, mate,” growled Ron.

“Stop it! He’s not well. Don’t you see he’s baiting you?”

“He killed Dumbledore. That signed his death warrant right there,” Harry had a particularly mulish set to his mouth.

Hermione sighed. It was time for plan “B”. She sadly accepted that she’d never be able to get through to either Ron or Harry. Severus would be dead by the time they realized that he was on their side. With her very protective escort they returned to the Burrow.

&&&

The pain in his forearm awoke him. Next there was the pain in his head and the nasty metallic taste in his mouth to let him know that for the first time in years, he had indeed become totally and completely inebriated. Well and good, if he was going to die, let him go with a hangover that would make him glad to go.

The pain flared again. He had half of a cheddar and pickle sandwich somewhere about. He found it, crammed it in a pocket and heeded the summons. He’d die with a hangover, but at least not with an empty stomach.

Arriving in a small clearing in an area of quaint old cottages, he didn’t see anyone else about. He started walking. That was the problem if you didn’t show up exactly when you were summoned, Death Eaters tended not to stay in one place. Turning the corner, he saw the field where the Death Eaters were organizing their attack.

Snape wandered around, staying on the periphery of the group and as far as possible away from the Dark Lord. They had Apparated to a Folk Village Museum about a half-mile away from where the battle was to take place. The Museum wasn’t open that day, and the few people living in the village, influenced by various charms, had wisely chosen to stay inside.

He spotted Wormtail and headed over to him. Snape was more than a little tempted to do some Legilimency to see if he’d been the one to peach on him to the Ministry.

“Oy, Snape where’s your robes?” said Wormtail.

“Back at Hogwarts where I left ‘em. Want me to go get them?”

“Well, you can’t participate if you aren’t dressed properly, you might be mistaken for a Muggle if you are wearing Muggle clothes.”

“Why don’t you tell the Dark Lord that? In fact, I don’t remember anyone being too concerned about my clothing when you were all hexing me half to death!”

“Well, suit yourself. No skin off my nose,” his nose twitched in a singularly rat like manner.

Snape sighed and took out his sandwich.

Wormtail did a double take. “Is that cheese you got there?”

&&&

By mid-morning Hermione felt ready to scream. Today was the day that Voldemort had planned his attack and yet everything was going along as scheduled for the weddings.

Mostly it was a day devoted to the final de-gnoming of the garden, arranging flowers (both the squirting and non-squirting ones) and cooking. Molly Weasley and Camille Delacour were doing their two nations proud. Mrs. Weasley was in charge of the main meal, Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding, along with a buffet of side dishes for several hundred guests. Camille was working on a five tiered fresh mulberry and cream wedding cake, Neapolitan glaces, ice sculptures of courting swans and dolphins, and petite four pastries.

Camille’s mother, Ondine, had shown up looking quite human for a Veela except that men in her presence seem to forget what language they were supposed to know, reverting to whatever it was that Neanderthal man probably spoke. Eventually Fleur sent her off to pick some wild flowers because the men just didn’t seem to be able to function at all when she was around.

Hermione shouldn’t have felt any shock at all when she saw Kingsley Shacklebolt running towards them.

“It’s started. It’s started,” he called out.

All of the Weasleys came out from the house and the surrounding area.

Camille and her family stood in a small clutch, speaking animatedly to one another in French. Hermione could make out Fleur complaining that the Dark Lord couldn’t have begun his attack because her Bill had not yet returned.

“Where?” said Remus holding onto Tonks.

Slightly out of breath, Kinglsey said, “Isle of Man, the Meayll Circle.”

“Everyone now, we follow the plan,” said Tonks looking very serious. “I’ll let the Ministry know where the battle is and Remus will alert the various Order members.”

“There’s a Muggle village called Cregneash, a half mile away from the circle. We’d been watching the circle but it was at the village that they gathered. It’s on fire and some Muggles have been taken hostage.”

“Oh, no,” murmured Mrs. Weasley.

“Come along, Molly,” said Camille, “We must ensure the food is not ruined. How good is your stasis spell?”

The twins had filled Hermione and her friends in about the mysterious parchment that had arrived at Hogwarts two days ago. They knew that six pairs of Order members had been monitoring the sites for any unusual activity.

Brooms were quickly distributed as everyone prepared to enter the fray, with the exception of Gabrielle who was much too young to do battle and was left in charge with strict orders to make sure the stasis charms on the food and ice sculptures held. Whatever doubts or fears Mrs. Weasley had, Camille was resolute that the weddings would not be delayed by this “seelly beesness.”

&&&

Snape in a brilliant trade now had himself a Mask and Death Eaters robes along with an empty stomach. Funny how Wormtail was completely prepared to be helpful once there was something in it for him. Snape attempted to find out if Wormtail had been the one that informed on him, but Snape found such a rubbish dump of ugly refuse in his mind that it just wasn’t worth the bother of searching. It was his bet though that it was Wormtail who had betrayed him simply on the basis of Wormtail’s abundance of mean emotions.

The Dark Lord had begun his magic. The sky, quite clear when they arrived, was collecting clouds and a fog was rolling in from the sea. One could feel the developing storm as the atmospheric pressure dramatically changed.

It had always impressed Snape how the Dark Lord had mastered magic lost to Wizards and had powers only dreamt of in modern day Great Britain. Actually there was a lot that drew him to Voldemort. It had seemed apparent to the younger Snape that since Muggles were too weak to defend themselves, they therefore didn’t deserve protection from the overbearing bleeding hearts at the Ministry of Magic. That’s what his uncle had always said.

Of course, had Lord Voldemort taken over the Wizarding World, they would have continued to conceal their presence from the Muggles. But they would have used their powers to live as kings. As long as they kept out the Muggleborns, because their loyalty could not be trusted, the Purebloods and Halfbloods would have had a shadow government and lived lives beyond the wildest dreams of any nobility.

This had seemed reasonable to Snape as a young man and, indeed, the theory was still attractive. Unfortunately put into practice, Voldemort was not the stable, benign ruler that Snape had envisioned. Furthermore, his followers could not be trusted to use reasonable restraint when it came to lesser creatures than themselves. All too soon and too late Snape had realized his trust in them had been poorly placed.

It was made worse when he found out that the Dark Lord intended to kill both Potter Senior and Junior. Any fantasies that Lily would wake up one day and realize her mistake in marrying Potter and return to him were dashed. He had begged for Lily’s life to be spared and still the Dark Lord had mucked it up royally.

Snape bent down and threw a rock out on the empty pasture. They were using Muggle-repelling charms along with a disillusionment charm to avoid notice by the occasional Muggle that walked down the lane or drove by in buses and cars. It was working well, along with the ever-thickening mist that enshrouded them.

Snape shivered. He sensed Dementors coming. Well, he shouldn’t fear a thing from them. He’d taken about every happy memory he’d ever had and stowed it away in a big jar hidden at Hogwarts. He’d been his own Dementor in recent years.

The image of Hermione came to him, dressed in red corset and black stockings and nothing else. All right, he did have a happy memory, damn her! Wanting him to stay on, tempting him to cling to life when he’d quite resigned himself to death. She was ever so the temptress. Even with all that frizzy hair!

A horrid thought struck him. In the back of his mind, he’d never doubted that the Potter child would triumph over the Dark Lord. He’d been certain of it because of Dumbledore and himself being by Potter’s side to guide him to victory. But Dumbledore was dead, and Snape wasn’t exactly in an exalted position of trust as they had planned. And without the destruction of the final, remaining Horcrux, well, things were looking in Voldemort’s favor.

Blast that Granger Girl! The simplest thing would have been to follow through with his plan. If death by Potter were not possible he could hang himself from a good sturdy tree limb or even the rafters of that barn he’d been staying at. But he couldn’t now. She was Muggleborn, just like Lily, and therefore at risk of being one of the first to be ethnically cleansed from the new state if Voldemort succeeded.

If the combined powers of the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry did not defeat the Dark Lord, then Snape would have to live long enough to make sure that Granger were safely transported away from the country and out of harm’s way. It might take a bit of persuasion. To be honest, he’d most likely have to use Imperio on her again. Damn the girl! She’d insinuated herself into his life and now he couldn’t help but care for her. Love her.

Snape sat down on a boulder more depressed than he’d been since he’d decided to arrange for Potter to kill him. Well, the only thing for it was to make sure Voldemort died for good. And hopefully that meant--Nagini!

The only question now was whom could he use in order to trick Nagini out of safety and onto the field of battle? Supposedly the Dark Lord could see through the serpent’s eyes and would know in a moment if the snake were in danger. Therefore, he’d have to time it carefully to ensure the Dark Lord had his hands full and was completely distracted when it occurred.

Snape sighed. It would be nice to snog Hermione just one more time. Yes, he’d most definitely would do it if the opportunity presented itself again.

It was at that point in time that Snape first smelled the smoke.

End Part I Midsummer’s Eve


A/N: Just a reminder that the day before a feast day or holiday is considered the “eve” of the event. I.e., New Year’s Eve is the last day of the year.

Please keep feeding the author--for she has been writing non-stop and posting every other day and is very hungry!


My sincere thanks to my reviewers: Lyndie578, Ash, Firewall, PrettyDelial, Little Bird, Killer Kadoogan, and Claire.

Also, three people took on the challenge of guessing which site Voldy would choose. Wolf Moonshadow at Ashwinder voted for Callanish, as did Pretty Delial, a reviewer at AFF.net. Ash, also reviewing at AFF.net, chose the Isle of Man.

Congratulations Ash, I dedicate this chapter to you. Give Pikachu a hug for me.