Chapter Text
After the war, Snape did not see Granger around much. It was understandable. She lost her magic. It could be some unknown curses, trauma, or anything else. To be honest, he never liked Granger, even though she testified for him in court. Well, he probably should have thanked her for that, letting him keep a peaceful life at Hogwarts rather than rotting in Azkaban.
Nevertheless, this didn’t mean that he must like her. There was no moral obligation there. He was thinking of saying a few nice words to Granger, a ‘thank you’, maybe, but in the past two and half years, he rarely saw her. That made sense. If he lost his magic, he would prefer to be left alone, far away from the others.
So, he was quite surprised to see her at the Yule Ball.
The celebration was not his thing, but Minerva insisted. She said people wanted to see him, a war hero. He would inspire the young generation to have faith in rebuilding the community. Not believing in all this bullshit, out of courtesy, he went. After he received the Order of Merlin, First Class, people whom he didn’t know would come to him, praise him, shake his hands, telling him how brave they thought he was. He was pleased for recognition, which he craved frantically in his youth; these words became pointless when he heard them on almost every occasion.
He was an hour late. The plan was simple: talk to Minerva, get a drink, and go back to his room. He got these all done in ten minutes, and then decided to have some fresh air.
Once he stepped outside, he saw Granger in the garden, alone. It was hard not to notice her. The red dress was incredibly prominent -- he wondered since when she cultivated such a flamboyant taste -- meanwhile a pair of diamond earrings was excessively bright.
Granger was sitting on the bench, looking a bit drunk. Did she look so different -- probably taller? Snape never thought Granger would be capable of dressing up, or drinking. She was always, in his memory, a girl with messy hair, carrying a heavy bag in which there were a dozen books and papers, constantly demanding justice and fairness.
“Professor,” she noticed him and greeted him. Her voice was soft, but enough to make him feel inadequate. “You are here.”
He nodded.
“Are you having fun today?”
“Fun is overrated, Miss Granger.”
Granger looked at him, laughed. Her eyes were bright, reminding him of the stars in the dark, humid, summer sky. He felt sorry for her. So bright. He remembered Minerva asking him whether anything that could help Granger regain her magic. Of course, it was unlikely: St Mungo’s could not even identify the cause.
It must be painful, thought Snape now. The pain of being taken away from the thing that defined your identity, of being deprived of the ability that marked who you truly were.
“Professor, you didn’t change.” She invited him, “Wanna sit next to me? We can stare at the garden together while other people are having fun.”
“It sounds rather intriguing,” he mocked.
He did sit down with her. It was the moment he realized that there was no warming charm. Of course, she lost her power. She couldn’t cast it. Her skin was pale, so pale. The snow fell down on her hair, and her body was shaking.
“Here.” He took off his robe. He felt clumsy. It didn’t feel right, when he handed her the robe. She looked surprised, and he thought she would leave, and get back to her friends. That would make more sense.
She tilted her head, giving him a big smile. “Thank you.”
“It is cold,” she continued. “But I love this garden too much.”
She put on the robe quietly.
They locked gazes. There was a warm and uncomfortable feeling slided through him. Bizarre. But he still didn’t move.
“How have you been?” he heard himself asking.
“You don't look like a person who would ask ‘how have you been’?” She grinned.
Awkward, uncomfortable… and stupid. He felt inadequate once again, as if someone was laughing at him, someone was making fun of his clumsy behavior.
“I would simply take back my question,” he said, trying to stand up. “Have a nice evening.”
At the same moment, she grabbed him. Her fingers were cold. He could feel the power, the insistence. She looked up to him again. “Don’t go, Professor.”
Granger looked fragile, sad, and also very drunk. Was this really her? She was nothing if not resilient. She was annoying, having too many trivial questions and pestering others to offer explanations. She was smart, as many people would say. She could be many different things, but not fragility. Or, this was some cruel game she was playing on him.
“Just don’t leave me here.” She insisted, and pulled out a bottle of wine under the bench. “See? I stole this from the kitchen. Let us not waste it.”
He hesitated. Part of him wanted to run, but another part of him was curious. “ will stay.”
“To your question,” she moved and sat even more closer to him. “I am leaving.”
“From where?”
“Here. This world. You know… all the stuff. It is time, isn’t it? My magic will never come back. It is gone.”
He didn’t say anything. It would be cruel to lie to her. Her friends might have done that already.
“It is fine. Don’t feel sorry for me.” She was so close to him. He started to worry that she could hear his heart beating frantically. But she didn’t. “I just finished my university degree at LSE. A nice university from London, if you even heard of it. ”
He didn’t know she went to Muggle school in the past three years. That was a piece of new information.
“I also got a job,” She said.
“What kind of job?”
“At a hedge fund. You probably don’t know what that means,” she looked into his eyes again. The intuition of running got even more stronger now. “But basically, I will handle people’s money.”
“Like working at Gringotts?” He frowned.
She busted out a laugh. The sadness in her eyes faded. “Yes, exactly, Professor. Just like Gringotts.”
“No need to be sarcastic,” he pointed out.
“I learned from the best.”
She was sitting so close to him. Snape was tempted to cast the warming charm, but he figured this might not be the best idea. When a witch or a wizard loses their magic, it would be painful for them to see other people use it.
“I will miss this.”
“Then you come back. Visit,” he said.
“Probably not. At least, not for a while.”
“It is not easy.” He chose his words carefully.
“I know,” she nodded. “The hardest part is that I still feel it. I still feel my magic. Look.”
She held out her hand, and murmured something. There was a piece of green leaf on her palm. “It was just weird,” she commented.
“This is wandless magic.”
“It is.”
“How did you do that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t use my wand anymore, but can still perform some useless tasks. The healers have no idea what is going on. ” She changed the subject, “Let us not discuss this. The world isn’t all about me, is it? How have you been, Professor? Anything interesting in life? I have heard you are the most popular bachelor in town. At least, according to the newspapers.”
“Don’t tell me you trust the nonsense.”
She chuckled, and then took a big sip of wine.
“You are very drunk, Miss Granger,” he frowned. “I would advise you not to indulge yourself.”
“Not Granger. Call me Hermione,” she smiled at him. No one had ever smiled at him like that, free, without holding back anything. Lily used to smile at him, but they were so different. Granger was more certain.
“It might not be proper,” he refused.
“One day,” she sat even closer to him. This time, he could smell her perfume. Rose, woody, lightly smoky notes, quite earthy. Her voice was dreamy. “One day, we will go by first name.”
Before he could respond—say something witty—he felt something touch his body. Without looking down, he knew she had leaned against his shoulder. Her hair brushed his face, and his heart began to race.
“Goodbye, Hogwarts,” finally, she murmured.