I, Snape - Chapter Nine

by April Grey

A Change of Pace

Snape was pacing Dumbledore’s office furiously. He was not a happy man. Hermione sat quietly in the chair across from Dumbledore’s desk. She was afraid, but from the comments of the last few minutes she began to realize that the situation might not be as bad as she feared.

Dumbledore spoke, “Well, Severus, if you will go off on a frolic of your own, what can you expect? You weren’t here for the final staff meeting. You walked away from me as I attempted to bring you up to snuff on all the events. So be reasonable, man!”

Snape stopped just in front of the portrait of a grizzled headmaster who stuck out his tongue at the potions professor’s back. “I can’t believe you are just going to close up the entire castle. What, no one will be here at all?” Snape’s voice rose dramatically.

“Even the house elves have departed, with the exception of Dobby who is taking care of a few last minute details.” Dumbledore kept his voice low, wishing that Snape might follow suit. “I had hoped you would agree to take a holiday yourself. But if you insist on staying here, well this place is your home. However, I do not think this ridiculous notion of a Hogwart’s graduate being on detention is one of your better notions.”

Snape turned two shade’s paler than usual and sputtered, “But, but she turned me into a cat! She kept me prisoner for three days.” He pointed a long, bony finger at the Gryffindor girl. “It’s-- it’s her fault that Madam Pince quit her job!”

“Tut. Tut. I wouldn’t go too far down that avenue. Madam Pince did not mention Miss Granger. She threatened only you and Hogwarts with a sexual harassment suit. Which I might add I only narrowly dissuaded her from pursuing.” Dumbledore popped in a lemon drop and continued to glare at Snape. There was a pregnant pause before he continued.

“Well, I said she could stay with you. You still have a spare bedroom in your chambers, don’t you?”

Snape spoke slowly and icily, “I use it for storage.”

Dumbledore made a face at Snape that indicated to Hermione that he wasn’t buying it. “Well, then send her back to her family, or have Dobby clear out the room. It matters little to me, I’m leaving on my own holiday. The first one, mind you, since Tom Riddle started causing all these problems. You are on your own, Severus. The whole castle, including the library, is off limits with the exception of the pantry. And I do expect that as soon as Dobby has finished re-arranging your rooms to accommodate Miss Granger, you will allow him to join his friends.

“Have I made myself clear?” He peered over his glasses at an ashen Snape.

“Quite,” said Snape in a strangled voice.

The Headmaster turned his attention to Hermione. “I’m very sorry that we cannot just send you back, Miss Granger. I dare say merely walking into those chambers will be punishment enough, in and of itself. Severus? Are you still refusing to allow house elves into your rooms?”

Snape looked at his feet, “They are my rooms to do as I please.” He said in a truculent voice.

Dumbledore sighed.

“Well, last time they ruined an experiment,” said Snape defensively. Hermione noted that Snape was losing ground, fast. He was beginning to remind her of a Second year receiving news of a week’s worth of detention.

“Yes, yes, as if you didn’t have a whole potions lab of your own, you need to conduct experiments in your sitting room. Last time I looked you were growing mold on sandwiches. Well, as you said, they are your rooms. Miss Granger, my condolences.” Dumbledore stood up.

“So Severus, you are determined to have Miss Granger as your guest?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” his voice was silky, yet barely above a whisper.

Gone was all trace of the avenging Snape, Hermione noted with some relief and satisfaction. She was worried about what she would find down there in his chambers, but it had to be better than Azkaban, thought Hermione.

“Miss Granger, I am sure it will be better than Azkaban. Barely.” Dumbledore said, seeming to read her mind. “I am disappointed in your lack of judgment, though I am sure your heart was in the right place. Forgery, as Prof. Snape has ‘eloquently’ pointed out, along with forced transformation and imprisonment are serious abuses of your talent. He has been quite generous in not calling in the Aurors.”

Hermione nodded her head and looked abashed. Snape sneered, but the set of his shoulders and head as he continued to stare at his feet belied the expression.

Hermione was keenly aware that something unspoken had gone on. An entire other conversation which she was not privy to seemed to shadow the discussion. She felt certain that were she not present, very different words would have been spoken. Either way, it was obvious that Snape was held in disgrace.

Dumbledore picked up a beat up multi-colored rucksack and began to leave the office. Hermione looked at Snape and found he was still staring at his feet. Snape followed Dumbledore out and Hermione followed them both. She thought that it had to be one of the oddest meetings she had ever witnessed at Hogwarts.

Althea heard the beep from outside her front door.

“All righty now, Cobblestone I know that you will take good care of the place. I’ll be back in two weeks and I want you to try and have some fun.”

Cobby gave his mistress a reproachful look. “Cobby be missing you somethin’ terrible. How can Cobby be happy when Master’s dead and Mistress goin’ off to Devil only know where with some Gigolo?” The elf burst into tears and threw himself on Althea. “DO change your mind, Mistress!”

Althea went down on bended knee and kissed the elf on his bald pate. “Nonsense. A Gigolo? Albus? I shall miss you, you silly old thing.” She got up and dusted her knees off. “See you in a fortnight.”

Taking one final look around her, Althea walked out the door and to where Dumbledore was waiting for her.

“You look so beautiful!” said Dumbledore taking her in his arms and kissing her gently.

“Well, I feel right silly in these Muggle clothes you sent me!” said Althea with a smile.

Albus, holding her loosely, looked her up and down. “You are smashing. Those trousers are made of blue denim and are quite sturdy, that leather jacket is for motorcycling and you are perfectly attired for what I have planned. Did you read what was on the back?”

Althea giggled, “Yes, ‘Al and Al’ inside a big heart. You are so sweet.” She kissed him again, this time the kiss went a bit deeper than before and they were both a bit breathless before it broke.

Dumbledore led Althea over to the motor scooter. The Vespa was a custom painted rainbow of colors, looking quite chirpy, if not a bit retro sixties flower power.

He patted the seat and beamed. “It’s brand new and I tweaked it all last week. You won’t believe the speeds it can fly at. You are going to need those heavy clothes, in spite of the warming spell, once we pick up some altitude. He handed her a pair of goggles and a leather helmet that matched the ones he wore.

“Are we really going to fly it?” asked Althea with some excitement.

“It’s all the rage. Hop on!”

Althea got onto the back of the seat of the scooter and placed her arms around Dumbledore once he seated himself. He was wearing an identical outfit to Althea’s but his silver hair and beard were plaited, whereas Althea’s raven tresses where held in a ponytail.

“Ready?” asked Dumbledore in full twinkle.

“I just have to ask you, once more. You do think Severus will be all right? I’m worried that you’re not there to watch over him.”

Dumbledore gave her his most reassuring smile. “Not to worry. At the last moment, a perfect babysitter showed up.”

“Babysitter?” Althea was astounded.

“Yes, my love. A Miss Granger. She’s normally quite responsible, Head Girl of Hogwarts, wouldn’t you know? It seems she has detention with your son.”

“I’m confused. A Head Girl having detention? Well, Hogwarts has changed since I was there.”

“Indeed. It seems that she turned your son into a cat.”

“Oh dear!-- Did he have any fun?”

“I couldn’t imagine him not enjoying it. But still discipline must be maintained.” Dumbledore said with a serious look.

“Quite. Tell me,” whispered Althea, “she’s not a Gryffindor, is she?”

“However did you guess?” Dumbledore revved the scooter. “First stop, the Riviera. I know this delightful pensione in Nice.”

Althea clapped her hands in delight and off they went-- up, up, up into the clear blue sky.

“Ugh.”

“Kindly refrain from commenting, Miss Granger,” Snape’s voice was so low Hermione could barely make out the words.

This is disgusting, she thought. How could anyone live like this?

“Please don’t touch anything, just head to your room.” Hermione thought she detected a hint of desperation and embarrassment in his voice.

“How can you find anything here?” Hermione wondered out loud. “Oh, I suppose you could perform an ‘Accio’.” She extended a finger to test how deep the dust actually was on an indeterminately colored tome just at her eye level.

“Miss Granger, kindly be quiet and please,” he removed her hand from the book, “do not touch anything.” He sounded distracted. Away from the safety of his potion’s lab, here was a man suddenly aware that all his secrets were in danger of being uncovered.

Hermione continued to stare all about her. Wherever she looked there were piles and mounds of parchments and books, journals and newspapers. Some had deeper layers of dust on them than others. And then there were the empty bottles; some were whiskey, some port, brandy, Fresca cans. Fresca? She spotted an old plate coated with something, maybe the mold experiment referred to by Prof. Dumbledore. Tea cups, coffee cups, shot glasses, wine glasses, brandy snifters-- all with dried on film-- struck the eye wherever one looked. Truthfully, it was much worse than at 12 Grimmauld Place. There was a small path through the sitting room, which branched off to an overcrowded worktable in one corner. The end of the path was into a corridor with three doors all on the left hand side. Even the corridor only had a small path winding through it. Books and boxes were stacked to the ceiling there.

“Tell me this is the storage room and not your sitting room?” Hermione pleaded.

“Miss Granger!!!” Snape growled her name and whipped open the first door on the left. Hermione hesitated and then stepped inside. Much to her relief, Dobby had been there. The small room contained her bed from her Head Girl’s room, her trunk – restored to its normal size- a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a cheerful little fireplace complete with an armchair and footstool. It smelled clean and fresh and Hermione was grateful indeed that she had such a good friend in the house elf.

Snape looked a bit stricken, but he said nothing and quickly strode down the corridor to the last door on the left, which was his room. He stepped inside and slammed the door.

Hermione continued to explore, opening a second door to a shared bath. Fortunately, Dobby had cleaned that room too, in record time thought Hermione. She sat on the bed and wondered when her detention was to begin. And then a sickening thought came to her. It had already begun! With the castle closed to her and Prof. Snape, there was no library! She immediately thought about all the books and journals she’d seen in his sitting room. But he’d told her not to touch anything. O dear Gods above! There would be nothing to do for two weeks but stare at the four walls. Hermione laid her head down and closed her eyes. No lovely little potions to brew because the laboratories and stock rooms were off limits. She began to panic. Surely, Prof. Snape had some project that needed doing! Maybe he’d let her clean up the sitting room? Her heart sank further as she realized that the reason the room was like that was because he… liked… it… like… that. She shivered in disgust. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. Prof. Dumbledore was right; it was only slightly better than Azkaban. But instead of dementors for company she would have Snape!

The topic of Hermione’s thoughts, Snape, sat in his room on his bed. He felt devastated. Never in his wildest imagination did he think he’d be saddled with having Miss Know-it-all Granger for his roommate. He knew his flat was a tad untidy. He never invited guests because, well, he had no friends. Of course, nearsighted as a bat Sibyll Trelawney didn’t seem to have minded much. So why did Miss Granger have to make such a fuss about it? Snape felt injured, doubly injured since the Headmaster had seemed to take her side, the Gryffindor side, yet again!

He rested his body on the dull, thin graying sheets and old, torn comforter of his bed. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the humiliation of Miss Granger’s passing judgment on his chambers. Add that to the memories starting to storm back into his mind of the time he spent as a cat. Had he? No. Yes. He had fucked Mrs. Norris. For a moment Snape thought he’d be sick to his stomach. Then he realized that he no longer had his bathroom to himself. If he were sick to his stomach, she’d hear him! Perspiration broke out on Snape’s forehead. He was in Hell.

Quietly, he got off the bed and glided to the bathroom door. It was ajar. He glanced in only to see that every inch of the bathroom sparkled like new. The toilet seat was down! Snape felt a tremor come over him and he staggered back to his bed. This wasn’t happening. He pulled the covers over his head and prayed for it all to be a bad dream.

Hermione had a thought. She called out, “Dobby?” and there he was.

“Miss Granger, Dobby do be very pleased to see you.” His huge eyes seemed even more gelatinous and rounder than usual, probably because they were filled with strong emotion.

“I went looking for you in the kitchens, but you weren’t there.” Hermione smiled.

“Dobby was told that, and so Dobby went looking for Miss Granger, but found Prof. Snape instead.”

“Oh, and that’s how he got out of my room.”

Dobby’s ears drooped, “Did Dobby do a bad thing, Miss Granger?”

Hermione gave Dobby a hug. “Not at all. It’s not your fault he’s a git. And a pig.” And someone I’ve come to care about, she thought sadly. Hermione shook her head of the thought. There was no purpose in thinking about the man that way, especially someone who hated you.

Hermione sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. She was thankful for the company. “So you’re all alone here? Where did the others go?”

“Half to Cancun and half to a shoe factory in Odensk, the vote split.”

“And where would you like to go?”

Dobby started to cry. “With Harry Potter, Miss. Dobby be missing him so much.”

Hermione patted the house elf on his back and strived to find a new subject. “Errr. So Prof. Snape doesn’t allow house elves into his chambers?”

“That’s right, Miss Granger. It’s all because a house elf saved his life.” Dobby smiled with pride.

“Really. That sounds like quite an interesting story.”

“Oh, Dobby would fetch the elf who saved him, but Dovey is gone to Cancun.” Dobby sniffed.

“So, do you know the story?” Hermione hoped it would be a long, entertaining one-- she had two weeks to kill.

“It be sixteen years ago, the night that Harry Potter defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. Headmaster Dumbledore assigned Dovey to stay at Prof. Snape’s lodgings but to stay invisible. He were to tell Headmaster if anything bad happened to Prof. Snape.”

Hermione sat up straighter and leaned forward.

“Well, as Dovey tell it, Prof. Snape, of course Professor were not a Professor then, he comes into the rooms all in a tizzy. He’s cursing and ripping his clothes and crying and carrying on something awful.” Dobby shut his eyes and she could tell he was reciting the story verbatim from memory. “And then he says, ‘I failed you, I failed you,” an’ he takes up this bottle of something nasty.”

Dobby opened his eyes and stared at Hermione for a moment shaking his head sorrowfully. “And then, he swallows the something nasty and starts to scream and burn. He be writhing on the floor in terrible distress. Dovey immediately take the professor to Madam Poppy Pomfrey and she works all night to save him. His mouth and throat and stomach and guts, why it was all burned to almost total destruction. An’ he almost died a couple of times. But because Dovey gets him to Madam Poppy Pomfrey, he don’t.”

Hermione felt a cold chill go down her back, as Dobby whispered to her, “An that’s why Prof. Snape won’t let house elves into his rooms. Should he try again, he don’t want to be stopped.”

She bit her lip to prevent the tears coming to her eyes. What sort of a mess had she gotten herself into?

“Thank you, Dobby. That was an interesting story.” She tried to look appreciative, in spite of her trembling. “You know, if you wanted to go stay with Harry for a while, he’s with the Weasley’s. I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind your help at The Burrow.”

Dobby’s eyes lit up. “Oh really, Miss Granger? Is you all right staying with the Professor? He’s awfully messy.”

She took the house elf’s hand, “I’m sure I can manage.” She smiled with a courage she didn’t fully feel, “Go ahead, everything will be fine.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger, thank you.” And Dobby winked out of the room. Hermione reclined on the bed, and tried to think pleasant thoughts.

On to Chapter Ten
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