Chance Encounter
Early July, 1998
Rain came in across the frigid waters of the North Sea and fell onto the little cottage. The sounds of droplets hitting the room echoed through the house. In the hearth, a warm fire had been burning all night. Over the past month, Severus had learned to enjoy the slow pace of life on an island of his own.
He had a routine he followed that started with waking as late as he pleased. After waking in his small but comfortable bed, he wandered to the living room to start the fire. Once the hearth was glowing warm and bright, he brewed himself an exceptionally strong cup of tea.
Severus typically had two cups of tea in the morning as he read or planned his next set of potions to craft. It often wasn’t until mid-day when he started on his ‘work’. Without the confines of Voldemort’s grip or the deadlines of Hogwarts, Severus assumed he would be brewing potions at a slower rate. However, he was pleasantly surprised that it hadn’t been stress that caused him to be so quick, but rather his skill.
It was late morning when Severus found himself sitting in a chair near the fire. He warmed himself as he read through a potion for healing rare muscle cramps. As he sipped his tea Severus realized that he would soon have to leave the cottage again. It wasn’t necessarily a pleasant thought. He enjoyed his solitude (or at least that’s what he told himself). Going to the Ministry was his least-favorite part of the week.
However, Severus had procured a substantial amount of potions over the past week. And the Ministry desperately needed all manner of potions. There were people who needed what he created. Severus might not have cared about anyone anymore, but he didn’t like the idea of someone suffering for longer than needed.
Sometime after a second cup of tea, Severus heard a tapping sound on his kitchen window. Surprised by the sudden intrusion on his peace, he stood and made his way to the small kitchen. Outside the foggy window was a silvery-white owl. He opened the window and took the letter the small creature had brought him.
The envelope was black and velvety soft under his fingers. It was an expensive envelope. Severus knew without looking who it had been sent from. He had half a mind to toss it directly into his fire. However, he knew Draco deserved more than his silence. Carefully, he opened the letter and read.
“Professor Snape (I don’t know how else to address this seeing as though you refuse to let me call you Severus),
As you well know I am currently under house arrest. With good behavior (whatever the bloody hell that means) I’ll be released. My mother seems to think that this means I still have yet to make something of myself. While I aggressively disagree with her, I promised I would reach out to you once more.
From what I’ve heard, you’ve become a hermit. Good for you. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in visiting Malfoy Manor a couple times a month to tutor me. I’m still very much considering the prospect of being a Potions Master.
I didn’t forget what you said to me at Spinner’s End. I’ve reached out to other Masters of Potions, but none have returned my letters. I have a feeling I will never get a response. If you feel inclined to resume some level of teaching, I would pay you handsomely.
Regards,
Draco Malfoy.”
Draco’s penmanship was near perfect, yet Severus reread the letter three times. He let out a long sigh and rubbed his brow. Once again, the young Slytherin was beginning to give him a headache. He placed the letter on his kitchen table and began to pace the room.
Severus’ feelings towards Draco were complicated at best. He had been close with Narcissa and Lucius in school. Despite her mistakes, Narcissa cared deeply for her son. She had always strived to be a good mother. Even so, Draco was a selfish and rather arrogant boy–he always had been. However, he was still a far cry from his father.
While he may have tried desperately to be the man his father hoped he’d be, Draco was not half as cruel as Lucius. He didn’t seem to have it in him. He might have faked it, teasing the Golden Trio and acting as aloof as his father. However, it wasn’t who he was at his core. At his core, Draco was soft. It was his softness that had ultimately been his downfall.
Severus gripped the countertop as a wave of nausea hit his stomach. It was hard to think about Draco without thinking about the mess that Greyback had made of him. It was hard not to think about the sight, Severus had walked in on. The blood and the wet sounds of torture.
I couldn’t save him, Severus reminded himself.
He swallowed the fear and began to pace his kitchen once more. He considered the prospect of mentoring Draco as well as his obligations to the Ministry.
After a few minutes of silent debate with himself, Severus packed his potions and readied himself for his trip to the Ministry. He donned his infamous black robes and grabbed his suitcase full of potions.
Severus stood in front of his hearth. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Ministry of Magic’ before stepping into the flames. Within seconds, he found himself in the great halls of the Ministry. Dark stone and busy workers were all he could see. He only hoped he wouldn’t have the misfortune of running into someone he knew.
Severus walked quickly through the halls. He didn’t allow himself to be caught up in the gazes of others. He told himself that it didn’t matter if they stared at him. He didn’t care about them or their opinions of him. He was there to do a job and leave.
Just as Severus was about to make it to Shacklebolt’s office, a voice called out, “Professor Snape.”
He wanted to keep walking until he made it to the Minister’s office. However, the source of the voice was an incredibly fast walker. In less than a second, Hermione Granger placed herself firmly between Severus and his destination.
“Granger,” he said, only barely hiding his irritation at being stopped.
“I was hoping I’d find you,” she said with a slight smile. “Harry mentioned that you might be here this week, and I suppose fortune is on my side.”
Severus wanted to know how Potter had any idea of his whereabouts. The idea made him uneasy. “What is it that you want? I have a meeting I must attend.”
“Right,” she gave him a serious look. “I…I…” She hesitated.
Severus stepped around the stuttering woman.
“I want to learn how to control Legilimency.”
That sentence made him stop in his tracks. Severus turned to face Granger once again. He raised an eyebrow. “Control it? I was unaware you were a Legilimens.”
The young woman’s cheeks flushed pink. “I…wasn’t. But now I am. And I…well, I’m struggling to control it. Harry mentioned you’re a Legilimens so I thought maybe-”
“People do not suddenly become Lgilimens, Granger. No matter how smart you think you are, it takes time and dedication.”
“I’m aware of that,” she argued. “But that’s not what happened to me.”
He studied her for a long moment. Granger was one of his top students (likely one of the top students in all of Hogwarts). However, she had the inclination to believe that all information could be found within the pages of a book. Not to mention she had the grating personality of someone who saw the world through rose-colored glasses.
However, the idea of someone suddenly developing Legilimency was fascinating. Even if that someone was Granger.
“Sir?” She stared up at him with a calculating look.
“How did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Granger admitted.
“That’s not helpful.”
“I know but it’s the truth. I first noticed it a day after the war ended.”
Severus considered that for a moment. Could it be stress related? Could it be a curse? His interest was thoroughly piqued. However, he wasn’t eager to invite the Gryfindor princess over to his home.
“I’ve gone to several specialists,” Granger explained. A flicker of frustration danced across her features. “No one can explain it.”
“And you think I can?”
“You understand Legilimency more than most. Additionally, your academic accomplishments are well-documented. If you can’t figure out what’s wrong with me, I have faith you could point me in the right direction.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Granger.”
“It’s not flattery. You’re…sort of my last hope.”
Severus hated that something inside him desperately wanted to help Granger. He shouldn’t have cared about her nervous expression or the way she kept her hands dug deep into her pockets. However, he felt his heart go out to the young woman. She really was desperate if she was coming to him.
“Fine,” Severus said at last. “I will owl you the address to my lab and you will arrive precisely when I ask you to. If you’re a minute late, I will not waste my time with you.”
Despite his harsh words, Granger’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Would you like me to change my mind?”
“No, sir,” she replied quickly. “I’ll…wait for your owl.”
Severus turned away from her and towards Shacklebolt’s door. He didn’t bother knocking.
The last thing Severus wanted to do after leaving the Ministry was to go to Malfoy Manor. However, he felt that he owed it to Draco to provide some guidance. He couldn’t help but feel that he should have been able to protect the young man more than he had.
When Severus arrived outside the Manor, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that it was raining. It was always raining at the Manor. He walked across the yellow lawn and up to the large, stone house. A kinder person would have knocked and waited to be let in by a house-elf. But Severus was not a kind person. He let himself in and cast a drying spell onto his clothing and hair.
The Manor was emptier than it had been during Voldemort’s stay. There was also a lot less blood and cries of pain. Bellatrix’s laughter no longer echoed through the house. Instead, there was an eerie silence in the halls, as if the house itself was mourning all that had been taken.
Severus walked until he heard the sound of conversation.
That’s a good sign, he thought to himself. If Draco and Narcissa were talking at least they were keeping each other company. He knew how cold and lonely the Manor could be.
As he approached the library–where the voices were coming from–he realized quickly that it was not Draco and Narcissa talking. It was Potter and Draco. And they weren’t talking, they were bickering. The thought made Severus want to laugh (if laughing had been a thing he did).
Even after the war–after everything–Potter and Draco were still driving each other mad. It was a rather comforting thought.
“So when I said, ‘don’t open those books’ what exactly did you think I meant,” Draco’s cold tone echoed down the hall.
“I just…well, I thought…I didn’t think this would happen.”
“How eloquently put. I’m sure the she-weasel just loves your pillow talk.”
“Stop talking about Ginny and me.”
“Oh, are you going through a rough patch? Is the savior just not doing it for her anymore?” Draco said with fake sincerity.
“We’re…fine. Just…help me clean up all this ink.”
“Hmm, last time I checked, I don’t work for you.”
Potter scoffed. “As if you have any idea what work means.”
“Oh, and you do? The Ministry begged you to join them.”
Severus had half a mind to see how long they would argue for while he stood in the hallway. However, he needed to talk to Draco. Without a word, he slipped into the library.
“Mr. Malfoy, I believe you requested-”
Both Potter and Draco nearly jumped out of their skins. In a second they both had their wands drawn and pointed at Severus. He couldn’t help but let the corner of his lips lift in a half-smile.
“Good to see that you two can work together. I worried it was impossible.”
“I…sorry, Professor Snape,” Potter lowered his wand, clearly embarrassed about being jumpy.
“You could have knocked,” Draco said as he slowly put his own wand away.
“And you two could have been more observant. I’m here regarding the letter you sent me. Do you have a moment to talk, or do you want to finish whatever this is first?” He gestured to the mess of ink that had splattered all over the floor.
“I can talk,” Draco said. He shot a glance at Potter before walking quickly out of the library.
Draco led them both to a quiet, warded office. He let the door shut behind Severus. For a moment both wizards were silent.
“I didn’t expect you to answer so soon,” Draco admitted.
He ran a hand through his hair. Severus noted the dark bags under his eyes. He wondered how much sleep the younger man was getting.
“In your letter, you mentioned you wanted to be mentored in potions,” Severus began. “I have no intention of being a full-time mentor-”
“I know,” he said quickly. There was a wild desperation in his eyes. “I…I would only need you to visit twice a month. I just…I’m trying to move on and…I guess potions have always been…natural.”
Severus gave a slow nod. “I suppose I can fit that in my schedule.”
“Really?” Draco looked at him with the same eagerness Granger had done only hours ago.
“Don’t make me regret this choice.”
“I won’t,” he straightened his posture.
“You’re already quite skilled with potions,” Severus said. “Is it safe to assume you’ve been making your own brews?”
“Sir?”
“Wolfsbane.”
Instantly, Draco looked down at the floor. Severus was fairly certain he was one of the few who knew the younger man’s secret. “Yes. I’ve gotten quite skilled at that one,” his words were bitter.
“Good. Do the Aurors know?”
“The Ministry knows.”
“And Potter?”
“I wouldn’t count on Potter noticing a Werewolf if it bit him in the arse.”
A smirk tugged on Severus’ lips. “I suppose there is some truth to that,” he took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that keeping this condition to yourself is-”
“Important, yes,” Draco’s cold eyes met with his. “I don’t need reminders. Thanks.”
Severus nodded.
“I take all the necessary precautions.”
“Good. How is your mother?”
“As good as can be expected,” his voice was quiet. “The healers think she’ll…be alright for another few years. The curse is…slow moving.”
He nodded. Despite all his skills, there wasn’t a potion in the world that could save Narcissa.
“So, you’ll…mentor me?”
“Yes. I will be back in two weeks. Be ready with appropriate potions equipment.”
Severus returned home, thankful to be back.
He made himself a cup of tea and walked out onto his front porch. He settled himself into a chair and gazed out at the dreary evening. Mist obscured his view of the ocean, but he didn’t mind. Severus had always preferred dreary weather. It was more honest.
As he sipped his tea, Severus realized just how quiet it was at his house. After spending a day out, he was suddenly more aware of his own solitude.
It’s for the best, he told himself. I like being on my own.
It was the truth. Company had only ever brought him trouble.