Chapter 2
Severus follows Miss Good down a dark hallway toward the back of the house to a large but cozy kitchen, his eyes adjusting to the warm glow bathing the room. Vintage though surprisingly modern, Severus takes in the dark beams of wood running along the high ceiling that match the polished countertops and sturdy floor. Bundles of herbs and spices have been hung to dry on a rack above a wide island taking up the kitchen’s center, and at the far side of the room, the largest aloe vera he has ever seen dangles in a window above the sink.
It’s… quite charming, actually.
Severus doesn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe cracked linoleum and peeling wallpaper… a lair, perhaps.
As she begins to rummage around in a cupboard, his gaze is drawn to an open tome laying on the counter to his left. A neat but clearly handwritten script fills the page, with impressively detailed illustrations of various ingredients. Severus leans closer to better read the small print when a hand flips the book closed with a definitive thump. His eyes linger on the partially visible sigil branded into the worn leather cover, noting its similarity to the one outside, before drifting his gaze from the splayed hand before him, past a slender wrist and up to meet the cool gaze of Miss Good staring back at him.
“It is not my intention to pry, Miss Good,” he says.
“Oh, but isn’t it?” She replies icily, narrowing her gaze at him.
Josephine stands close to the strange man just a little too long for her own comfort as the silence stretches, her arm still outstretched before him as she searches those black eyes of his for what his aggravatingly stoic expression refuses to tell her.
“It’s my grandmother’s,” she finally continues in a clipped tone, pulling away and returning to her previous task.
“Coffee?”
“Tea, if it is no imposition.” Severus raises an amused brow as she throws a pointed look over her shoulder mid-pour. “Though coffee will suffice, of course.”
Keen to keep a close eye on her hands as she prepares his drink, he follows her to the other end of the kitchen.
“Does your grandmother know what you do?”
Josephine huffs a mirthless laugh. “Listen, Mister…?”
“Severus,” he replies, appearing at her side. “Severus Snape.
Josephine can hear the tinge of amusement laced in his dark voice, both enticing and irritating her in equal measure. She steels herself before turning her head to meet his gaze.
“Well, Severus…”
Her teeth sink briefly into her bottom lip as a sideways smile briefly tugs at his mouth.
“I make soaps… tinctures and salves and the like. Most of our customers are no-maj’s. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it’s not me,” she states matter-of-factly.
“You would be remiss to lie to me, Miss Good.” He warns, though his hardened expression hardly reaches his eyes. Rather, those eyes seem rather too smug for Josephine’s liking.
Well, that’s certainly ominous, she thinks with a hard swallow.
He then places a familiar vial on the counter in front of her, and she can feel his scrutinizing gaze burning in her periphery as she tries to look at the vial— her vial, damn it— with a neutral expression.
Fuck.
“This here is an entirely unique potion acquired from the Black Belle. Quite impressive, actually… Ever heard of her?” Severus asks, tapping a light finger atop the cork.
Josephine reluctantly looks up and returns his gaze, shooting for a look of innocent curiosity despite her thundering heartbeat.
“Can’t say that I have,” she quickly replies, desperately hoping her tone of defensiveness isn’t as obvious to his ears as it is to hers.
“Well, no matter. You see… upon dissecting the contents of this particular brew, I found traces of what appeared to be death cap, a well-known species of toxic fungi,” Severus continues. “But upon further inspection… I instead identified it to be a close cousin, of sorts. One that is reported to grow in this region. One, in fact, that I curiously happened to spot growing right in your front yard.”
Severus tilts his head slightly as he analyzes the mounting panic in her eyes and hitched breathes rising sharply in her chest despite her otherwise calm expression. To anyone else less seasoned in the art of deception, she might have actually succeeded with this performance.
A pity for it to have been a spy dropped on her doorstep.
“Coincidence, Miss Good?” He finally asks with a raised brow.
Fuck!!!
Josephine scrambles internally to think of a next move, her mind racing for something— anything— but all her cards seem to be laid out before him now, and she can feel with a terrible certainty that the man isn’t bluffing.
“It’s Josephine,” she finally sighs in resignation. She slides his mug over to him, muttering, “Though I’m sure you already knew that, Detective Holmes,” under her breath as she whirls around and takes a seat at the island. She barely registers the hot liquid scorching her throat as she takes a deep gulp of her coffee in a poor attempt to settle her nerves.
“So. What do you want?”
Severus takes his mug and settles on the stool across from her, discreetly sniffing at its content before taking a sip. “Like I said, Dumbledore simply wishes to find you before the Death Eaters do.”
Josephine remains skeptical.
“Well, you’ve found me. Now what?”
“Now you will accompany me to Hogwarts to meet with him.”
“I don’t think so, darlin’.”
Severus would typically be tempted to throttle anyone who spoke to him that way, who dared to call him… darling. Perhaps the southern heat has officially cooked his brain, but he can’t help but feel some amusement— dare he say a nascent fondness— at her derisive tone when laced in the gentle lilt of her accent.
Regardless, he scowls at the impertinent witch.
Gods, I need to get out of this place.
“Dumbledore thought you might say that,” he sighs, pulling an envelope from the seemingly never-ending pockets of his trousers.
Curious, Josephine takes the offered letter and swiftly slices the elegant wax seal with her fingernail, peaking over at Severus with a suspicious glance before she begins to read.
Dear Miss Good,
Enclosed is a letter that your late grandmother sent to me some years ago, and I think it a timely message that I hope you may now glean use of.
Your grandmother was a rare source of light in my life and to many others in a time where our world faced a great darkness— one I fear we must soon all face once again.
I look forward to meeting and sharing more with you, one she loved so dearly, should you be amenable.
My late however sincerest condolences,
Albus Dumbledore
She soon draws another envelope tucked into the first, anxiously biting at her lip as she practically burns a hole through the parchment with a pain-filled stare.
Severus’s brows knit with confusion. He wasn’t sure how Dumbledore had planned to convince the witch, but he wasn’t entirely expecting his plan to cause such clear distress. His curiosity suddenly itches to know what might be inside those letters.
Later, perhaps.
“Go on,” he coaxes quietly after some time.
Without looking up, Josephine takes a shuddered breath and unfolds her grandmother’s letter.
Albie,
I normally leave the theatrics to you, but I thought I’d try my hand at it for once. I’ve charmed this letter to only open upon my death. So if you’re reading this, goodbye my good friend.
I write to you because I have this inkling that I am not long for this world— you’re not the only one who just knows things, you old goat— and I have some affairs to get in order before I depart. Specifically, the matter of my dear granddaughter, Josephine.
Would you do this old friend one more favor and keep an eye on her once I’m gone? She’s got spirit (perhaps a feral spirit, much like myself, but I’ve always found it to come in handy in a pinch) and can handle her own, as she’ll likely tell you. But I just couldn’t forgive myself if I left her alone in this world. And as you and I both know, the peace never seems to last long enough.
My granddaughter is slow to trust new folk and will surely fight you on it. But if the time ever comes, just show her this letter.
Hoping I don’t see you soon,
Belle
She blinks back unshed tears as new words appear once she reaches the end of the letter.
My dearest Josephine—
I am already so proud of you and hate that I won’t be there for all that you will do. But don’t worry, I’ll be watching from the other side (so keep those damn crows from pecking at my good couch!).
And don’t forget that head of yours, you’re gonna need it.
Love you bunches,
Grandma
A sad smile touches Josephine’s lips, her heart aching painfully as she reads and re-reads the line her grandmother would always say to her anytime Josephine left the house, often shaking a wooden spoon in her direction as she bounded toward the front door.
“Miss Good? Can you hear me?”
Josephine snaps back to the present, suddenly aware of the tears that must’ve escaped tracing down her cheeks and the warmth of Severus’s hand now resting above one of her own, squeezing gently to recall her attention.
Quickly recovering, she snatches her hand back and dries her face.
“It’s, uhm… it’s getting late,” she says, averting her gaze as she shuffles off the stool. Suddenly desperate to be rid of his presence and those prying eyes, she darts toward the door without bothering to see if Severus is following. “The guest room is just up here.”
***