A Turn for the Better

Chapter 61 ~ The Challenge Continued

Snape’s double took a menacing step toward the Potion’s master, his pallid face twisted in a sneer.

”In the other timeline, I was a hero. I didn’t fight my destiny but accepted it, the misery, the pain, the glorious unfairness of it all. Unlike you, I wasn’t a coward. You raped your wife, then murdered a man who did nothing but stand by you . . murdered him like a coward. You bound him, poisoned him and then slit his throat because you were afraid to face the future . . . and in this timeline you took that same Mudblood you raped and kept her as your personal plaything for four years, before you married her, too weak and pathetic to let her go. You call yourself a man? You’re no man, Severus Snape .You’re a writhing, groveling, sniveling coward . . .”
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The double took another step toward Snape, who stared at it, then shakily lifted his wand.

”Riddikulus!” he rasped hoarsely

The other Snape turned into a pale, ghostly, translucent image of itself, fading into nothingness. The creature let out a hiss and floated quickly away into the darkness. It had been a Boggart of course. A Boggart was a creature that took on the form of what a person most feared to protect itself. No one knew what a Boggart looked like in its natural shape, because it always appeared as something else.

Snape stood there, blinking after the creature, his heart pounding. He had never known a Boggart to speak before, but since it was his own fear and he was alone, maybe the illusion had intensified. Simply looking at himself as he was in the other timeline might not have invoked enough fear, but those words . . . those cutting, stinging words.

Snape faltered. He suddenly had the urge to end this game. Up to this point it had been challenging, even a bit fun. But this last obstacle had been a psychological attack, reaching into his mind and pulling out his darkest, innermost misgiving. Severus Snape, as strong as he appeared to be, was not made of stone. He had a conscience. In this timeline it wasn’t buried as deep as in the other.

As a young man, he initially felt some guilt at killing Tom Riddle, but when he read about the atrocities he had committed, he felt less guilty about it, and finally pushed the wizard’s death into a dark, niche of his consciousness and just didn’t think about him any longer. But the hard fact was, when he killed Tom Riddle, the wizard had been nothing but supportive of him. Snape had betrayed the trust of the only man who seemed to care about him. And Hermione. He had coerced her. He was a young, randy wizard at the time, but he hadn’t given her much choice in the matter when he had sex with her. As a young man, he didn’t think it was rape, but as an older wizard—

And he had been weak for Hermione, he still was. He loved the witch deeply and couldn’t imagine himself without her. In the other timeline he had been resigned to being alone and lived with it stoically. Here, he needed, wanted someone . . .

Doubt and guilt began to creep over him as he stood there, a sense of despair filling him, welling up from his very soul. The air around him became cold, almost chilling. He reflexively wrapped his arms around himself, letting his head hang.

Behind him, a floating form shifted and drew silently closer, hovering behind the wizard, drinking in his hopelessness.

Snape’s wand hand began to lift. He was ready to give up, to end the challenge. The Knight had failed. He raised his wand, his eyes turning up to the night sky. It was filled with twinkling stars. He breathed out, smoke curling before him.

The wizard stopped, his eyes resting on his warm breath. It shouldn’t be visible this early in the season. Something was wrong here.

Suddenly Snape spun, snarling as he saw the Dementor hovering behind him, adorned in long black robes, scabby gray hands with black nails dangling from the sleeves, a hood drawn over its head. It smelled of death. The creature looked at Snape out of the blackness of the cowl. He could only see its glittering eyes.

The despair he felt wasn’t self-generated. It was the effect of the Dementor’s proximity. It had almost made him give up. Anger swelled inside Snape, building in strength as he focused all his will on what he had to do next.

”Expecto Patronum!” he roared, firing the spell at the Dementor and staring in disbelief as his Patronus appeared with a roar, charging the creature and chasing it down the row.

Snape hadn’t cast this spell in many, many years, since he was a teenager himself. It had been a doe then, the same Patronus that Lily Evans had. He couldn’t bear to summon it after they parted ways. It reminded him of her, and he didn’t want to think of her any longer. Well, it would never remind him of her again, because it had changed.

Snape watched as his Patronus trotted back toward him, silver and sleek, sitting down on its haunches, the dark eyes looking up at him for a moment before it faded. Snape stood there, staring at the empty space.

A lioness. His Patronus was a lioness.

Hermione. It reflected his love of Hermione. A Patronus could only change when there was a powerful connection that hadn’t there before. Obviously, his love for Hermione was so strong, it negated his connection to Lily completely.

A Patronus also gave its master a renewed feeling of strength and self-worth whenever it appeared, which was part of the magic that repelled Dementors. Snape felt encouraged. How could he ever have thought of disappointing Hermione by not finishing the maze? He knew she wouldn’t act disappointed, but she would be.

The wizard tucked his wand into his waist, picked up the divining rod and continued on, determined to reach his bride and claim his prize.

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Four hours had passed, and Hermione was getting worried. She didn’t know exactly what was in the maze. She had only been assured it would be challenging and her husband wouldn’t be killed.

She paced around the cottage, stopping every few minutes to stare out of the window. Several times she walked outside, watching for any sign of him, before returning to the cottage. She began to think she shouldn’t have done this. What if he was hurt and unable to fire the spark?

Finally, she put on a robe over her nightgown and stepped into her shoes. Grabbing her wand, she opened the door and headed out of the cottage. She was going to find Severus.

The cottage was surrounded by the hedge of blue and white roses. Torches were placed around the perimeter so she could see clearly. She located an opening in the hedge and began to walk toward it. She got within ten feet, and the opening suddenly filled with foliage, effectively closing it, keeping her from leaving.

”What the hell is this?” Hermione cried at the hedge as if it could hear her. “Open up!”

The hedge remained closed. Hermione stalked around the perimeter, finding two more openings that immediately closed as she approached them.

”Oh, gods damn it,” she seethed.

Then she pointed her wand at the hedge.

”Reducto!” she cried.

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Snape had been quite busy in the maze. After siccing his Patronus on the Dementor, he had to anesthetize a flock of Doxies with a spray bottle of Doxicide that had been conveniently supplied. The creatures had ambushed him from the hedges, swarming around him. He had been bitten by one, and as a result floated helplessly for about five minutes before the effects of the bite wore off.

Next, he came to the edge of a rather large chasm he had to cross. Several brooms and a very long staff rested against the hedge. Snape thought had to select the broom that would get him across the gap, but none of them would fly. He stared at them for several minutes. They were old fashioned brooms with thick, stiff bristles and flat broad handles.

Hm.

Then he had an idea. He levitated one of the brooms with his wand and laid it at the edge of the chasm, fixing it in place. Then he laid the next one slightly on top of it, then the next, using all the brooms and forming a slender bridge to the other side. Readjusting his sword and pouch, he carefully picked up the long staff and used it to help balance himself as he carefully tightrope walked across the broomsticks. There were a few hairy, one-legged moments and he ran the final ten feet as the brooms fell behind him. There was a small splash below. Apparently there was water at the bottom of the chasm.

He had just finished a game of chess. The board had been enormous and the pieces were life-sized. He had to play the part of the black knight, directing the movements of the other pieces. It was a good game. The Potions master won, of course, the king dropping its sword at his feet. He had just left the board and was using the diving rod to walk up the row when he heard a rumble and all the hedges surrounding him began to shudder.

”Shit!” Snape cursed, breaking into a run as the maze began to reconfigure itself, hedges closing in on him from all sides.

He fought through them, the bloody roses pressing into his nose and covering him with their perfume. The bad part was there were thorns as well, that scratched his face He fought through them, finding openings and rows that closed quickly behind him. The reconfiguration only took a minute, but it felt like forever as Snape was buffeted about and nearly smothered by roses. Finally, the maze was reconfigured and Snape stood in the middle of an open row, thorns embedded in his shirt and trousers, tears in his clothing, red scratches on his face and hands and rose petals in his hair. He angrily brushed them off.

”What the hell happened?” he hissed.

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Hermione stood horrified as she heard the maze reconfigure itself. She hadn’t known that would happen when she blasted it. Nothing happened where she was standing, but she could only imagine what Severus had gone through. She hoped he was all right.

The rumbling stopped and an opening appeared in the hedge directly in front of her as if taunting her. She took a step toward it, and it filled in only slightly. She took another step and it filled in even more. Hermione stepped back and the opening widened.

”Bloody hell,” she hissed. Then she had an idea.

”Severus! Severus! Are you out there?” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth, hoping her voice would carry.

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Severus suddenly cocked his head. He heard something. A very faint shout.

”Severus!” Hermione cried again. “Are you in there? Are you all right? I’m here!”

The Potions master began to run through the maze on his own, carrying the rod with him, Hermione’s voice becoming louder and louder, but several row over to his right. He searched for openings and ran through them, heading back the other way, orienting on her voice. He hit a few dead ends, and there was a hag in one of them, with crooked, sharp fingers and gnashing teeth. Hags were flesh-eaters. Severus blasted her and retreated quickly. He didn’t have time for battles now.

”Hermione!” he yelled.

Hermione heard him, and renewed her yelling, her heart pounding at the sound of his voice.

”I’m here! You’re almost here!” she cried, happy and relieved as his voice carried over to her.

The final few rows were very convoluted, but Snape had dropped the divining rod and threw off the pouch and sword in his haste to get to Hermione, so he had to go the final rows alone. It was maddening. Hermione was only one row over now, calling to him desperately. He had to navigate the entire perimeter, and fell into a very deep puddle that had two Grindelows waiting at the bottom of it. They attempted to drag him down.

Furious, Snape choked the hell out of one of the creatures until it went limp and drifted downward. He managed to swim up and grab the side of the hole, gulping air before the other Grindelow pulled him back under. Hermione, who was only one row over, could hear him cursing and splashing about.

”Severus!” she cried.

Snape managed to pull the Grindelow off him and swam upward, throwing the creature out of the puddle, then climbing out of it, drenched and angry. The creature gasped, its gills working furiously, having no water to breathe. Snape kicked it back into the puddle.

”Severus! Are you all right? What’s happening?” Hermione called fearfully.

Snape didn’t answer her as he continued navigating the maze, soaking wet now, not thinking to dry himself with his wand. He was almost there. Suddenly, there was an opening in the hedge and he stepped through. Hermione was standing on the other side of the maze facing the hedge. He had entered the area behind her.

”Severus!” Hermione cried, tears in her eyes now. Why wasn’t he answering her? What had happened to him? Oh, this was horrible. She should have never, ever made him go through this? Something had got him . . . she just knew it.

Snape crept up behind the witch, aware she was crying.

”Severus!” she screamed, nearly insane with worry.

”Yes?”

Hermione spun and saw him standing there. He was drenched, his hair was plastered to his head, there were scratches on his face and hands, his shirt and trousers had little rips in them and he stunk of roses.

He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

”Oh, Severus! You’re all right! You made it through,” she cried, leaping into his arms, not caring he was soaking wet as she kissed him happily.

”Barely,” he growled when they broke their kiss.

Then Hermione realized his state.

”Oh, you poor thing. Let me fix you up. I have some medicinal potions inside,” she said to him, taking his hand and leading him to the small cottage.

”You’re going to fix me up, Mrs. Snape, believe me,” he said softly, his eyes resting on the curves beneath those robes. He saw her legs were bare.

Hm. This looked promising.

It was going to be quite the night for the Knight.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.