Mission Impossible

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The cottage door was heavily warded, though that much she had expected. It was exhausting enough to have to break through so many wards, but to do so in an undetected manner was even more tiring than she had thought. She had no idea what would await her on the other side. For all she knew he could be dead inside with the information long since torn away by the forces of evil. Or he could have evolved into the primal monster they all believed him to be, though she refused to believe that. The magic they had used to preserve him was highly unusual and came with a series of horrid side-effects, which in her encounters with him he had never exhibited signs of any of them. But all of that was different now.



Hermione braced herself as the final ward fell. Now for the muggle lock upon the door. Leave it to the brilliant Severus Snape to have also imposed a muggle device to ward off unwanted visitors. Just as easy to undo but the task of doing it silently or at least somewhat quietly would prove to be difficult.



It was dark inside. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Hermione dared not to alert him of her presence. If he were savage it was best for him to remain unaware of her arrival, the same being true if a trap had been laid. Darkness, however, made it difficult to see anything. She hadn’t thought to cast a vision enhancing spell before entering the tiny cottage and it was far beyond her grasp as far as wordless and wandless magic went. Though she was skilled this would be one occasion where her skills did not measure up to the demands of the situation.



Her eyes closed as she tried to recall. What was it she had read somewhere? An incantation that would allow her light that only she could see; some wandless utterance that perhaps she could conjure if only she could remember it. Of all times for her nearly flawless photographic memory to fail her, why now?



His approach had been deathly silent and she nearly shrieked when the wand tip was thrust against her chest. “Friend or foe?” he growled. His voice was raspy and low, hardly anything like the silky smooth baritone she’d remembered. “Though a dumber question I cannot fathom for I have no friends and no foe would be so friendly.”



She gasped tight breaths every nerve in her body standing on edge. The darkness shattered as he pulled his wand back and waved it skyward. Light filled the room and Hermione stood backed against the door, hands still trembling.



“You must be some twit from The Order. Albus had the good sense enough to finally send you but not sense enough to train you properly…” he rasped.



Her eyes were wide; taken aback with the picture she was presented with. A tall frail man who could hardly stand fully erect stood before her. His skin so pale that his blue veins could be seen clearly through it. Long tendrils of lank hair fell well past his shoulders and clumped together. His frame was so thin that had he not been clothed she would have seen his ribs poking through his chest. Scars and marks littered his face but the most disturbing was his eyes, or what should have been his eyes. Not so much barren holes; rather black voids that gazed in no particular direction. His lips were cracked the skin peeling back in a most unattractive fashion. What had become of him?



It was almost too much to bare seeing him in his current state. Hermione cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out but she could already feel the tears leaking down her cheek. She resisted the urge to rush forward and pull him into a tight embrace; partially afraid that if she did he would snap beneath her very fingers.



“Did they send me a mute?” he rasped. “Identify yourself lest I hex you back out into the snow.”



She couldn’t bare it. “I…” she barely allowed her voice to rise above a whisper. Pity coursed through her veins; how she longed to touch him. But the Severus Snape he had once been would have shuttered at the thought. Sure, they shared little more than two passionate fucks— though somewhere deep inside she desperately dared to believe it could have been something more—but he was a noble man who took help and charity from no one.



“Lost your tongue, have you?” he growled. Before she could respond his hand had darted out, if a bit clumsily, and grasped her around the throat. His weight fell forward and although she was certain his stumble had been unintentional he used his weight to ground her in place. For a man who could not see his aim was impeccable. “Who are you? Why are you here?” his yell was scarcely louder than a pointed whisper.



His fingers trembled against her neck. He was weak. Whatever he’d been surviving on out here alone it had barely held him together. Severus could feel that she was a woman. He was certain he had frightened her. The nearest village was miles away and no mere muggle would have been able to slip through so many powerful wards, even if his ability to keep them all held in place was slipping away. He dared not hope that Albus had discovered a cure, too much disappointment lie waiting in that dream.



Her lips parted as if to plead with him, but no sound escaped her. Hermione reached her hand up and gripped his forearm. She watched as he tensed and then she breathed a sigh of relief as he released the grip on her neck. “My apologies…” he growled.



She was beside herself. Her body was shaking, even at his weakest moment he still frightened her. “I’m here to help.” She said.



Severus paused for a moment, his head tilted oddly to the side. She waited with baited breath. “The Order sent you, no doubt.” He muttered and turned from her.



Hermione was beside herself once more. Was her voice so unremarkable that he did not recognize it or remember her? Had it been so long? Or was he somehow damaged in some way? It shouldn’t have held any importance to her; the mission was not to rekindle the supposed sparks between them, but rather to retrieve the information and bring the fallen Order member home to safety.



“Yes,” she said. “Your eyes…” she couldn’t help but comment.



“No longer see anything.” He said flatly. “Surely you can see that for yourself, you foolish girl.” He snarled. But his words had lost that edge they’d once held. Once upon a time an insult from Severus Snape would have left her trembling in her shoes but now the man that stood before her only served to dampen her heart with sorrow and pity.



“Yes, but how did you…what happened?”



He sighed. “Must you ask so many questions?”



“I’m here to help.” She repeated herself.



“I don’t need help.” He spat. “You need help. They need help. Or you wouldn’t be here. Simple as that.”



The truth of the matter was he was correct. Despite her own personal agenda The Order did need the information that he had. And while he himself would prove particularly useful if recovered in any functioning state, the information was her cause.



“Yes.” She said. “They need to know what you know. Your suspicions from before. About Vol— about You-Know-Who.” She had almost faltered. No longer did that name hold fear for her, but it had suddenly become important for her identity not to be revealed to him, though why she wasn’t certain— and no normal person, in Order member or not, would have referred to him otherwise even after his downfall. “But I’m here to help you.”



Severus contemplated this for a moment. Saying nothing, his features betraying precious little, though they had hardly ever done so in the past. “Why did they send you?” he queried. But she was not allowed a chance to answer. “Were you the only one they could trick into coming out here? Risking your life against the monster?” he sneered. “You should have stayed away…”



“S—supposing I volunteered?” she was choking on her words. She’d nearly called him sir. Did he really think so little of himself? Dumbledore had been searching for ages with no success. It had been a combined effort of several Order members just to track the location and several more to pin down an exact spot. But with Dumbledore being older and some of the other wizards not as skilled at spell cracking, they’d left it up to her.



“Suppose you did,” he said. “You’d expect some sort of reward. I have nothing to offer. And if not then you are here for your own personal gain. No one would volunteer for this.” He said.



“The information is needed by The Order.” She repeated herself. “But you are in need of help. Whether I volunteered or not is irrelevant.” She tried to steady her breath. “I am here to help, and eventually to return with you to The Order and bring the information you have with us.”



Silence fell between them. He knew not what to say. It had been so long since he’d had any contact with the outside world aside from Dumbledore and even that had ended months ago. After his sight had failed him he’d shattered the mirror fragment which had been his only connection to real life and given up all hope. It seemed like forever before he parted his lips again to speak. “You cannot help me, you foolish girl. Coming here was a mistake. The information you need is in a wall safe behind a portrait in the sitting room.” He gestured to a narrow archway that led further into the tiny cottage. “Take it and leave. Let me rot in peace.” He growled before turning with a bit of a stumble and disappearing into the darkened corridor of the far side of the cottage.





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