Chapter Text
“Thank you for coming, dear,” the Headmistress said to her former student. “And so quickly. Do you have any idea why he would be asking for you?”
The click of their heals echoed off the old castle walls as the two women made their way from the Headmistress’ office down toward the hospital wing. Students stared and whispered as the women walked determinedly past, no doubt recognizing the famous curly hair and determined face of Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio, savior of the wizarding world, keeping stride with their Headmistress.
Hermione frowned in thought, watching a group of students in front of them scatter. “I’m afraid I don’t, Minerva. We haven’t been in contact for years. Has his condition improved since you owled me?”
The older woman pushed open the infirmary door and sighed. “Still in and out of consciousness. Never alert enough for us to figure out which potion he was working on, or what caused it to explode – he’s back this way, follow me – and Madame Promfrey has him stable, but she’s hesitant to treat him any further until she knows the underlying cause, of course.”
In a private room toward the back of the infirmary, they entered to the sight of flowers, chocolates and presents dotting the tables on both sides of the room. In the center on a white hospital bed lay Severus Snape.
Even in his present state, Hermione thought to herself that he looked better than the last time she’d seen him, at his trial. He’d been too thin then, staring blankly ahead, not seeming to care about his fate at the time; although he did owl a succinct and formal note of gratitude to Harry and herself for their glowing testimonies in his defense.
“Let me see if Poppy has a moment. Stay with him, dear?”
Hermione nodded her reply.
Once alone with the Potions Professor, Hermione pulled a chair next to his bed and chanced a few diagnostic spells. He seemed fine physically, overall. Stable. The trouble appeared to be neurological. She swallowed. No wonder Madame Pomphrey was hesitant to start further treatment; nothing was more difficult to heal than the human mind.
She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for a moment before her eyes wandered to his neck. The scars from Nagini were still there, but they had healed quite well. Her mind drifted to the night in the shack, when she’d held him, hands covered in blood, doing everything to -
“Mine…” came a soft moan that Hermione was sure she imagined.
Two familiar voices approached the room and she turned to face the healer. Poppy smiled. “Nice to see you, Miss Granger. Thank you for coming. He hasn’t woken yet, but he keeps calling your name. I didn’t realize the two of you were close.”
“To be honest, we aren’t,” she admitted, twisting her fingers awkwardly. “I’ve no idea why-”
“Hermione…”
There was no mistaking it this time. The three women turned quickly to see Severus Snape’s eyes flutter open. As Madame Pomfrey ran some complicated diagnostics, Hermione absently put a hand on the bed. He was gazing fondly at her from under half-lidded eyes.
“Professor! You’re awake.”
Slowly his brows met in confusion. He blinked his eyes open and shook his head, sitting up. “'Professor?' You’re… oh, you’re young. Are you my student?”
She sent a worried glance to Madame Promfrey, who returned it. The healer turned to her patient. “Do you know who you are, my dear?”
“Well of course I do, Poppy. Severus Tobias Snape.”
“Can you tell me today’s date, and the current Minister?”
“Sure. It’s…” He faltered, and suddenly looked quite worried. “Oh. No.”
“Severus,” Minerva cut in, “you were working on a potion. There was an accident. Septima found you after the explosion; she vanished everything in case the liquid was still dangerous. If you could tell us what it was, we might be better equipped to help you. Do you remember?”
He was silent for a long moment, struggling to put the pieces together before his eyes widened with realization.
He laughed. Loudly. Poppy looked more worried than before.
“The accident. Yes, I remember. Well, I remember it all, that’s the trouble, isn’t it?” They were fearing he’d gone quite mad as he waved the healer away. “Save your magic, Poppy. I know the counter-potion. I’ll have it brewed by next week.” She did not look convinced even as he added, “It’s 2002. Kingsley. Satisfied?”
“I’m certainly not,” Minerva said sternly. “What in the name of Circe happened? I don’t think you’ve blown a cauldron in your life.”
If Hermione didn’t know better, she’d accuse Severus Snape of looking guilty.
“I’ll tell you, Minerva,” he conceded, “but you won’t like my answer. You know the situation with Her – with Miss Grainger’s parents.”
The woman’s face softened as she glanced to Hermione, who was still coming to terms with the fact that she’d heard Severus Snape laugh. “Yes, I know.”
He turned to the young Griffindor with a strange look. “You owled me for advice, wondering if perhaps a potion could theoretically be a more viable way to undo the charms.”
Nodding, she added politely, “And I can’t thank you enough for the books, and for your advice. They’ve been very helpful with my research.”
“Miss Granger,” he said quietly. “You saved my life, and then you asked me for help. Did you really think I would owl you a few texts and go about my business?”
Her mouth popped open, but no words came out. Was he really telling her that…
“I’ve been working on a cure since I received your letter, and I’m close. Some promising research from a century ago pointed me toward alternative uses for time sand that could-“
“Severus Snape!” the unexpected shrill from his boss made everyone jump. “Tell me you didn’t!”
The look of guilt returned to his face.
“You – you could have blown up the school! And we’ve only just finished rebuilding. You could have been killed! Time sand is a class one restricted substance for a reason. How could you –“
“It was for Hermione,” he said quietly.
Still looking cross, the woman folded her arms. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“Anyway, like I was saying – it was more explosive than I’d predicted, and it worked too well. The brief contact restored all my memories.”
Hermione looked confused. “Isn’t that… well… the point?”
He paused, then realized. “Oh, I’m not explaining well. I mean, my whole life’s memories.”
The three women exchanged glances.
He sighed, frustrated. “All my memories. Forever. From the day I was born until the day I’ll die. Everything.”