Under the Rain - Chapter Three - A Visit, Revelations
The wind had finally subsided, and with it the rain. Snape sat quietly in a moldering chair in front of his fireplace with a glass of Fire-whiskey when the flames swirled green.
“Minerva McGonagall for Severus Snape,” a voice called out to him.
With a wave of his hand, Snape allowed the call to come, and Minerva’s head popped into the fire.
”Severus, how good of you to answer. I was worried I might wake you,” Minerva greeted him, taking a breath before continuing. “I’m going to be in your area tomorrow with an old friend of mine, and we’d like to drop by.” Without waiting for his reply, she finished quickly, “We’ll arrive sometime around five. Please make sure the wards don’t kill us”.
With that, her head was gone, and Snape was left not entirely sure whether he had heard her clearly or not. The last thing he needed was the meddling influence of a couple old bats in his life. With a groan, he chucked his glass at the fire and tossed down the contents of a small vial sitting next to him. Within moments Severus Snape was asleep, if unwillingly.
* * *
The next morning, Minerva McGonagall and Abigail Maseten stood outside 18 Bogs End St., looking with some concern at the house Hermione had purchased. The house had not changed in appearance, at least from the outside, since the two women had taken a look at it a month before.
Abigail spoke first. “While it doesn’t look appealing from the outside, perhaps Hermione has made an effort to improve the interior. After all, she knows the importance of this project, and the consequences for failing.”
“I wonder if we have been so wise in forcing her into this - she never would have stood this sort of bullying, when she was younger.” Minerva voiced her concern quietly.
“She’ll get through it - she doesn’t have a choice. I’ve made sure of that,” Abigail muttered just as the door of the house flew open.
“Abigai, Professor! Come in, I’ve got tea set out ” Hermione was determined to be cheerful, and her face showed it.
The two women walked up the stairs and into the house, where they followed Hermione into a narrow parlor. The small room glowed with noontime sunlight, lighting on
the maroon and gold covered chairs and small oak table that dominated it. As Minerva and Abigail surveyed the room quietly, Hermione busied herself with fixing the tea tray set out on the table. After a few moments of
silence, the three women seated themselves, effectively sandwiching the young witch between the two older women.
“The place looks splendid, Miss Granger.” Minerva was the first to break the silence.
Abigail was quick to fill in,. “I see you’ve stuck to your House colors,” she said as she smiled encouragingly at Hermione. Hermione, in return, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, aware that a barrage of part sentimental, part therapy-aimed comments was sure to follow. When none did, she politely asked after the Hogwarts staff, and a few moments were filled with gossip from her former school, and sipping tea. With her belief that Fillius Flitwick was gay permanently secured in her mind, the conversation quite unexpectedly turned to Severus Snape.
“I had a chat with Severus last night, Abigail - I told him to be expecting us this afternoon,” Minerva casually dropped in.
Hermione looked quickly between the two older women, and Abigail hesitated, a brief look of panic flashing on the therapist’s face. Severus Snape had come up in her talks with Hermione many times, usually changing the girl’s tone from forlorn to acerbic in a matter of seconds. Hermione had never really gotten over Dumbledore’s death, and had blamed Snape for the deed even after he had been cleared of all charges by the Ministry. The death of an authority figure, followed so soon after by the deaths of almost all those she held dear, had undone the girl. At the heart of all her anger and fear sat Snape. Despite, or perhaps because of this, Hermione had denied all of Abigail’s attempts to discuss the former Professor’s role in her life.
“Snape is… nearby?” Hermione questioned almost casually.
The two older women exchanged glances, and a silence filled the room. After a few moments - which seemed like an eternity to the young witch - Minerva spoke.
“He lives around the corner, dear - as he has since the end of the war. I suspect that, in preparation for our visit, he has been less accommodating than you have.” She looked carefully at Abigail over Hermione’s head, a worried expression on her face. Quickly smiling down at Hermione, she shrugged. “You couldn’t have known, dear… after all, we didn’t realize that the two of you would be living quite so near one another.”
Hermione blinked, and looked at Minerva. “Perhaps you should have warned me, Professor, that I was moving in near a war criminal,” she replied, her voice shaking. Touching the tea pot with a measured gesture, she looked at Abigail and said, “The tea’s gone cold. Perhaps this is the time for our visit to end.”
“Hermione…” Abigail started, but Minerva simply nodded and placed her hand on the other woman’s arm.
“It’s time to go. Hermione, it’s been a pleasure. Please keep in touch.” Minerva gently pulled Abigail out of her seat, and the two women left, their steps echoing through the house.
“Minerva McGonagall for Severus Snape,” a voice called out to him.
With a wave of his hand, Snape allowed the call to come, and Minerva’s head popped into the fire.
”Severus, how good of you to answer. I was worried I might wake you,” Minerva greeted him, taking a breath before continuing. “I’m going to be in your area tomorrow with an old friend of mine, and we’d like to drop by.” Without waiting for his reply, she finished quickly, “We’ll arrive sometime around five. Please make sure the wards don’t kill us”.
With that, her head was gone, and Snape was left not entirely sure whether he had heard her clearly or not. The last thing he needed was the meddling influence of a couple old bats in his life. With a groan, he chucked his glass at the fire and tossed down the contents of a small vial sitting next to him. Within moments Severus Snape was asleep, if unwillingly.
* * *
The next morning, Minerva McGonagall and Abigail Maseten stood outside 18 Bogs End St., looking with some concern at the house Hermione had purchased. The house had not changed in appearance, at least from the outside, since the two women had taken a look at it a month before.
Abigail spoke first. “While it doesn’t look appealing from the outside, perhaps Hermione has made an effort to improve the interior. After all, she knows the importance of this project, and the consequences for failing.”
“I wonder if we have been so wise in forcing her into this - she never would have stood this sort of bullying, when she was younger.” Minerva voiced her concern quietly.
“She’ll get through it - she doesn’t have a choice. I’ve made sure of that,” Abigail muttered just as the door of the house flew open.
“Abigai, Professor! Come in, I’ve got tea set out ” Hermione was determined to be cheerful, and her face showed it.
The two women walked up the stairs and into the house, where they followed Hermione into a narrow parlor. The small room glowed with noontime sunlight, lighting on
the maroon and gold covered chairs and small oak table that dominated it. As Minerva and Abigail surveyed the room quietly, Hermione busied herself with fixing the tea tray set out on the table. After a few moments of
silence, the three women seated themselves, effectively sandwiching the young witch between the two older women.
“The place looks splendid, Miss Granger.” Minerva was the first to break the silence.
Abigail was quick to fill in,. “I see you’ve stuck to your House colors,” she said as she smiled encouragingly at Hermione. Hermione, in return, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, aware that a barrage of part sentimental, part therapy-aimed comments was sure to follow. When none did, she politely asked after the Hogwarts staff, and a few moments were filled with gossip from her former school, and sipping tea. With her belief that Fillius Flitwick was gay permanently secured in her mind, the conversation quite unexpectedly turned to Severus Snape.
“I had a chat with Severus last night, Abigail - I told him to be expecting us this afternoon,” Minerva casually dropped in.
Hermione looked quickly between the two older women, and Abigail hesitated, a brief look of panic flashing on the therapist’s face. Severus Snape had come up in her talks with Hermione many times, usually changing the girl’s tone from forlorn to acerbic in a matter of seconds. Hermione had never really gotten over Dumbledore’s death, and had blamed Snape for the deed even after he had been cleared of all charges by the Ministry. The death of an authority figure, followed so soon after by the deaths of almost all those she held dear, had undone the girl. At the heart of all her anger and fear sat Snape. Despite, or perhaps because of this, Hermione had denied all of Abigail’s attempts to discuss the former Professor’s role in her life.
“Snape is… nearby?” Hermione questioned almost casually.
The two older women exchanged glances, and a silence filled the room. After a few moments - which seemed like an eternity to the young witch - Minerva spoke.
“He lives around the corner, dear - as he has since the end of the war. I suspect that, in preparation for our visit, he has been less accommodating than you have.” She looked carefully at Abigail over Hermione’s head, a worried expression on her face. Quickly smiling down at Hermione, she shrugged. “You couldn’t have known, dear… after all, we didn’t realize that the two of you would be living quite so near one another.”
Hermione blinked, and looked at Minerva. “Perhaps you should have warned me, Professor, that I was moving in near a war criminal,” she replied, her voice shaking. Touching the tea pot with a measured gesture, she looked at Abigail and said, “The tea’s gone cold. Perhaps this is the time for our visit to end.”
“Hermione…” Abigail started, but Minerva simply nodded and placed her hand on the other woman’s arm.
“It’s time to go. Hermione, it’s been a pleasure. Please keep in touch.” Minerva gently pulled Abigail out of her seat, and the two women left, their steps echoing through the house.