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darnedchild) wrote2010-01-28 02:42 pm
darnedchild) wrote2010-01-28 02:42 pm
Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road - Part 25
Summary: Devsgma and Darnedchild have combined their talents to tell you the story of what has happened to our favorite pair. It starts with a few letters from one extremely grouchy potions maker to the manager of a used book store. Canon through Deathy Hallows to the point of Severus Snape's supposed death at which point it becomes AU. This fic is a collaborative effort and was originally born from an aborted RP that never quite made it off the ground.
Rating: PG13 (possible R)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.
Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road
Part 25
The Forbidden Arte of Amore sat untouched upon Simon’s desk for at least a week while he labored to fill the vast number of orders he’d received for various hang-over potions. He knew they were in anticipation of the coming New Year.
“Far be it from me to deny our noble apothecaries their fair share of profits due to the misery of others,” he commented dryly to Yorick as the night of drunken celebration drew one day closer and the last of the orders had left his flat. “Even though there is no one to blame for their misery except themselves.”
Turning away from the front windows, Simon eyed the empty tea cup in his hand and approached the bird.
“It’s a far cry from the ones they suffered a few years ago, so I suppose there’s room for some sort of idiotic behavior now,” he commented while heading to the kitchen to refill his cup. Stopping dead in his tracks, Simon whirled around and sent a wide-eyed, horrified look to the falcon.
“Good gods! Yorick! Did you hear the drivel that fell from my lips? Understanding and – and – acceptance of a behavior that leaves the participant incapacitated and completely worthless?”
Waiving both hands in the air, empty cup in one, he moved back toward Yorick.
“This is all Hermione’s fault. It’s her influence!” Simon stated emphatically, while nodding his head in understanding and relief. “I’m not getting soft. I’m not!” he repeated, while finally making his way into the kitchen to refill his cup.
Perhaps it was this resolve to prove that he wasn’t getting soft that finally made Simon pick up the volume he’d received on Christmas day. Its pages were yellowed, but the print was still quite legible, so it didn’t take him long to find the potion he knew that Dumbledore would have used.
“Duplicitous old bastard,” Simon muttered while re-reading the list of ingredients. “I wonder if he brewed it himself or had someone else do his dirty work? Who was available around that time? Slughorn? Of course, it could have been sitting in his cupboard for years, merely waiting the call of its owner to be put to the most judicious use.”
A handwritten list of the ingredients, along with the remembered properties of each, was etched onto a new sheet of parchment. Next, various herbology books were consulted and any forgotten or newly discovered variables were noted as well. Sitting back in his chair, Simon consulted the original volume of love potions and then added the directions for brewing the liquid. Finally, noting the dimming light in the room, Simon paused long enough to light several candles near and on his desk.
“Now, if I wanted to reverse this dastardly potion, where is the weakest point? Ah, here. Yes,” Simon muttered to himself, as he started making notes on a fresh sheet of parchment.
Further study of the list made him frown and pick up the original again.
“I’m surprised they used this one, Yorick. Wait – when was this published?” he muttered while flipping to the first few pages of the book. “A hundred years or so ago. They would have used the original strain, which would have been more than adequate. I wonder if Dumbledore’s brewer did, or if they used the modern, easy to acquire, milder version?”
It took Simon almost a month to devise what he thought might work as a cure. The problem was there were several variations depending on the actual ingredients used in the original potion. Since he didn’t have a sample of that potion, and he didn’t know if he had ingested the potion or if it had been applied to his skin, Simon’s research was at a standstill.
There was another problem he was loath to admit. He would need assistance in the brewing of all the variations. Too many ingredients needed to be added simultaneously for him to do it alone. Finally, there was the question he was still unable to answer. Did he want the potion neutralized?
One witch held both an answer and the assistance Simon required. If she provided the wrong – right – answer, the assistance might not be required.
Folding his notes and placing them inside The Forbidden Arte of Amore, the small packet was placed in a pocket of his vest. His wand was slid up a sleeve and as he pulled on his cloak Simon paused in front of Yorick’s perch.
“I suppose it’s too much for you to wish me any sort of luck on this foolish endeavor of mine?” he asked the silent bird. “Save your breath, my chicken. I know. Believe me, I know.”
Quietly letting himself out of the flat, Simon turned to Apparate and arrived in the alley behind Marks and Sons. It didn’t take him long to find his way past the few Muggles he found in the streets and much, much too quickly he was confronted with the front door.
Well, bugger. I’ve forgotten the voice changing potion, now haven’t I?
His eyes narrowed when he realized he no longer gave a damn if anyone recognized him, or his voice. There was no longer any hesitation in his step as Severus pushed open the door and stepped up to the front desk.
“I’d like to see Miss Granger, if you don’t mind. The name is Snape. Severus Snape.”
If you do… Well, we’ll deal with that if the need arises, won’t we? he decided, while taping his fingers impatiently on the desk.
-~8~-
“Severus Snape?" Hermione knew she'd screeched, but the name one of her clerks had given her was, frankly, impossible.
Improbable, not impossible. Just extremely unlikely. Someone was clearly trying to take the piss at her expense, and, while she had no idea why they would be using this particular tactic, she did not like it. Not one bit. Someone was impersonating her Simon and that...
That needs to stop, right there. He's not 'your' anything, not anymore.
"You tell this Severus Snape that he can... No, I'll do it." She didn't even bother trying to identify the confused look on her employee's face, but the stunned expressions on the ones at the front desk who must have heard the impostor's introduction were quite clear.
Although none of them were as stunned as Hermione when it came apparent that it really was him.
"Simon? I mean, Severus?" She shook her head to clear it, and started again. "Mister Snape. I was told you wished to see me? My office, then?"
-~8~-
Raising a brow at one of the male clerks was an extremely satisfactory use of his time while Severus waited for Hermione. The flustered employee suddenly announced he had to sort some books and took off toward the rear of the store. Severus frowned slightly when he realized the man looked vaguely familiar.
A former student?
Adversary? Not possible, probably the former given the speed with which he left.
And finally—there was Hermione. She was, he noted with an inner sigh of relief, prepared to be at least civil to him. His eyes swept her form and it was with a pang of regret that he noted her hair was bound up in her armor.
Glasses, trousers and blouse complete the business ensemble. I wonder if I would have fared better at her home?
Too late for a change in plan. The situation is what it is and must be dealt with here and now.
Proceed as you mean to go on, you fool.
A small smile lifted the corner of Severus’ mouth and he nodded.
“Your office would be perfect – Hermione. Please, lead the way.”
A small gesture at the fleeing back of the clerk proceed the question, "Is that, by chance, your Mister Fitzgerald?"
-~8~-
She hated it – Loved it. – when he said her name. Rather than let him see her react, she took her time looking for the man in question.
"No, actually. That is Mister Fitzgerald." She nodded toward the older man hovering in the doorway that led to the warehouse. Hermione was sure that news had spread like fiendfyre and her friend was probably concerned, so she gave him a reassuring smile as she led Simon – Bugger it all. – Snape to her office.
"He's devoted to his wife and his three grandchildren." She bit her tongue, annoyed with her babbling. Why did I tell him that?
Once they were safely in her office, behind a closed door, Hermione realized her tactical mistake. They'd been in this position before, and he'd kissed her senseless then. Her palms grew tingly at the thought, so she rubbed them against the fabric of her trousers as discretely as possible.
"So, you wanted to see me?"
-~8~-
“No,” Severus stated quite simply. He waited a beat before beginning to speak again, mostly because he’d caught a whiff of a fragrance. A fragrance he’d personally brewed for the witch standing in front of him. It gave him enough courage to take a step toward her.
His tone was soft and unlike his normal sarcastic speech when he said, “I had no desire to merely see you, Hermione. I have come to humbly beg your pardon for the damage I’ve done to you and our – friendship. I don’t know if you read or burned my letter of apology and it doesn’t matter except that I would like to repeat the words. I was completely and utterly wrong, and I chose a cruel way to demonstrate my apparent ongoing stupidity in misjudging your motives in cultivating our friendship. Can you possibly forgive me enough to give me another chance?”
If she refused, there was the answer to the question that had plagued him since the last time he'd seen Hermione. If he had no hope of rekindling what they had had, he would leave, and keep Dumbledore’s last curse as the only source of light left.
-~8~-
No.
He had said no. That hurt more than she wanted to admit.
And then he apologized, again, for hurting their friendship.
She wanted to tell him that he had ruined a lot more than just a simple friendship, that he had broken her heart, but she couldn't.
Nothing has changed, not really. He's still obsessed with Lily and I'll never be anything but second best, maybe not even that. I can't do that.
"Oh, Severus. I can forgive you, I do. But I can't give you another chance, I'm sorry."
-~8~-
It was rather surprising how low Severus’ spirits sank when she forgave him, but refused to allow him to remain in her life. His eyes dropped and he nodded his head. His last words to Yorick came back to mock him now. It had been a foolish mission, at best.
“I understand,” he stated while raising his eyes and meeting her glance. “I can’t bring myself to throw my body on the floor and grovel, Hermione, so I won’t trouble you further. Your Mister Fitzgerald will be adequate to handle any requests I send in the future.”
Turning toward the door, he paused when The Forbidden Arte of Amore nudged him in the side. Pulling it, and his notes, from the vest pocket he laid it on a corner of her desk.
“Consider this a belated Christmas present, if you will. I have no further need for it, and it should make you a tidy sum someday if you ever figure out the rest of it. Fare well in your life, Hermione. You deserve it.”
Shutting the door quietly behind him, Severus didn’t pause to look at any of the books on the shelves. He was reminded of a time, not too long ago in this very room, when he’d disregarded them in favor of a witch.
She is gone, but the books will remain. Again.
-~8~-
For some reason, she hadn't expected him to look so upset at her refusal.
He was out the door before she looked at the book he had left and realized there was something tucked into its pages.
Mere seconds later, she had scanned the notes and read bits and pieces of his handwriting, just enough to figure out what he had been working on.
An antidote!
Her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment, then started again, faster than before.
Hermione dropped the book on her desk and ran to the door, jerking it open hard enough that it swung back and hit the wall in her haste.
He had made it to the front door and she would never reach his side in time to stop him unless she...
Loud enough to be heard throughout the store, Hermione called out as she rushed toward him, "Severus, wait! Please!"
-~8~-
The bang of a door startled Severus somewhat and he picked up his pace as he neared the front door. Hermione’s words reached him as his hand touched the handle to exit.
She probably wants to refuse the gift. Give her the opportunity or leave and make her send it by owl?
That at least would give her time to read the notes and realize the potential.
And be terribly, terribly rude behavior behavior on my part.
Which she does not deserve.
Severus considered the options briefly and turned in resignation.
“Miss Granger, you could have returned the gift by owl if needed. It really wasn’t necessary to test the hearing of everyone in the shoppe,” he stated with more than a trace of the old sarcastic tones coming to his aid at long last. “I’m sure all within a three block radius would have thanked you.”
-~8~-
That's the Severus I remember.
"I don't want to return it, I want to discuss the notes you left in it. If you don't mind. My office, again?" She offered a tentative smile. "Please?"
-~8~-
For one brief moment, Severus had hope, but before they could gain a small foothold on his soul, he dashed them into shards with a firm shake of his head.
“No,” he stated again quite simply. “You have everything I could bring to the puzzle in my notes, Miss Granger. The smartest witch of her age should be able to piece together the rest.”
Severus knew he was throwing away a chance to be with her, possibly work along side her, but without the hope of some type of relationship to build upon…
“As I said,” he told her in a firm tone. “I no longer have any need for the antidote and don’t wish to waste any more of my time delving into possibilities. I make enough for my needs, therefore it’s yours to do with as you please.”
-~8~-
She’d hurt his feelings with her refusal.
That wasn't even close to making them even, but it was enough to give Hermione the hope she needed to extend her hand toward him.
"What if it would please me to work on the antidote with my friend? Will you give me another chance?"
-~8~-
Pushing aside the inner, snide voice that told him Hermione was playing him for a fool, Severus slowly took the small hand she offered, but refused to move.
“If you’re saying, what I – What I hope you’re saying – you don’t require a second chance, Hermione. You’ve never used up the first one.”
Glancing down at their hands, he squeezed hers gently.
“I can make no promises,” Severus advised soberly, when his gaze rose again. “There are no guarantees we can find an antidote. Even then, that I will… That my feelings will… We may end up as we began, Hermione. Merely friends. I think you know all that, but I need it said.”
Part 1 / Part 26
Rating: PG13 (possible R)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.
Part 25
The Forbidden Arte of Amore sat untouched upon Simon’s desk for at least a week while he labored to fill the vast number of orders he’d received for various hang-over potions. He knew they were in anticipation of the coming New Year.
“Far be it from me to deny our noble apothecaries their fair share of profits due to the misery of others,” he commented dryly to Yorick as the night of drunken celebration drew one day closer and the last of the orders had left his flat. “Even though there is no one to blame for their misery except themselves.”
Turning away from the front windows, Simon eyed the empty tea cup in his hand and approached the bird.
“It’s a far cry from the ones they suffered a few years ago, so I suppose there’s room for some sort of idiotic behavior now,” he commented while heading to the kitchen to refill his cup. Stopping dead in his tracks, Simon whirled around and sent a wide-eyed, horrified look to the falcon.
“Good gods! Yorick! Did you hear the drivel that fell from my lips? Understanding and – and – acceptance of a behavior that leaves the participant incapacitated and completely worthless?”
Waiving both hands in the air, empty cup in one, he moved back toward Yorick.
“This is all Hermione’s fault. It’s her influence!” Simon stated emphatically, while nodding his head in understanding and relief. “I’m not getting soft. I’m not!” he repeated, while finally making his way into the kitchen to refill his cup.
Perhaps it was this resolve to prove that he wasn’t getting soft that finally made Simon pick up the volume he’d received on Christmas day. Its pages were yellowed, but the print was still quite legible, so it didn’t take him long to find the potion he knew that Dumbledore would have used.
“Duplicitous old bastard,” Simon muttered while re-reading the list of ingredients. “I wonder if he brewed it himself or had someone else do his dirty work? Who was available around that time? Slughorn? Of course, it could have been sitting in his cupboard for years, merely waiting the call of its owner to be put to the most judicious use.”
A handwritten list of the ingredients, along with the remembered properties of each, was etched onto a new sheet of parchment. Next, various herbology books were consulted and any forgotten or newly discovered variables were noted as well. Sitting back in his chair, Simon consulted the original volume of love potions and then added the directions for brewing the liquid. Finally, noting the dimming light in the room, Simon paused long enough to light several candles near and on his desk.
“Now, if I wanted to reverse this dastardly potion, where is the weakest point? Ah, here. Yes,” Simon muttered to himself, as he started making notes on a fresh sheet of parchment.
Further study of the list made him frown and pick up the original again.
“I’m surprised they used this one, Yorick. Wait – when was this published?” he muttered while flipping to the first few pages of the book. “A hundred years or so ago. They would have used the original strain, which would have been more than adequate. I wonder if Dumbledore’s brewer did, or if they used the modern, easy to acquire, milder version?”
It took Simon almost a month to devise what he thought might work as a cure. The problem was there were several variations depending on the actual ingredients used in the original potion. Since he didn’t have a sample of that potion, and he didn’t know if he had ingested the potion or if it had been applied to his skin, Simon’s research was at a standstill.
There was another problem he was loath to admit. He would need assistance in the brewing of all the variations. Too many ingredients needed to be added simultaneously for him to do it alone. Finally, there was the question he was still unable to answer. Did he want the potion neutralized?
One witch held both an answer and the assistance Simon required. If she provided the wrong – right – answer, the assistance might not be required.
Folding his notes and placing them inside The Forbidden Arte of Amore, the small packet was placed in a pocket of his vest. His wand was slid up a sleeve and as he pulled on his cloak Simon paused in front of Yorick’s perch.
“I suppose it’s too much for you to wish me any sort of luck on this foolish endeavor of mine?” he asked the silent bird. “Save your breath, my chicken. I know. Believe me, I know.”
Quietly letting himself out of the flat, Simon turned to Apparate and arrived in the alley behind Marks and Sons. It didn’t take him long to find his way past the few Muggles he found in the streets and much, much too quickly he was confronted with the front door.
Well, bugger. I’ve forgotten the voice changing potion, now haven’t I?
His eyes narrowed when he realized he no longer gave a damn if anyone recognized him, or his voice. There was no longer any hesitation in his step as Severus pushed open the door and stepped up to the front desk.
“I’d like to see Miss Granger, if you don’t mind. The name is Snape. Severus Snape.”
If you do… Well, we’ll deal with that if the need arises, won’t we? he decided, while taping his fingers impatiently on the desk.
“Severus Snape?" Hermione knew she'd screeched, but the name one of her clerks had given her was, frankly, impossible.
Improbable, not impossible. Just extremely unlikely. Someone was clearly trying to take the piss at her expense, and, while she had no idea why they would be using this particular tactic, she did not like it. Not one bit. Someone was impersonating her Simon and that...
That needs to stop, right there. He's not 'your' anything, not anymore.
"You tell this Severus Snape that he can... No, I'll do it." She didn't even bother trying to identify the confused look on her employee's face, but the stunned expressions on the ones at the front desk who must have heard the impostor's introduction were quite clear.
Although none of them were as stunned as Hermione when it came apparent that it really was him.
"Simon? I mean, Severus?" She shook her head to clear it, and started again. "Mister Snape. I was told you wished to see me? My office, then?"
Raising a brow at one of the male clerks was an extremely satisfactory use of his time while Severus waited for Hermione. The flustered employee suddenly announced he had to sort some books and took off toward the rear of the store. Severus frowned slightly when he realized the man looked vaguely familiar.
A former student?
Adversary? Not possible, probably the former given the speed with which he left.
And finally—there was Hermione. She was, he noted with an inner sigh of relief, prepared to be at least civil to him. His eyes swept her form and it was with a pang of regret that he noted her hair was bound up in her armor.
Glasses, trousers and blouse complete the business ensemble. I wonder if I would have fared better at her home?
Too late for a change in plan. The situation is what it is and must be dealt with here and now.
Proceed as you mean to go on, you fool.
A small smile lifted the corner of Severus’ mouth and he nodded.
“Your office would be perfect – Hermione. Please, lead the way.”
A small gesture at the fleeing back of the clerk proceed the question, "Is that, by chance, your Mister Fitzgerald?"
She hated it – Loved it. – when he said her name. Rather than let him see her react, she took her time looking for the man in question.
"No, actually. That is Mister Fitzgerald." She nodded toward the older man hovering in the doorway that led to the warehouse. Hermione was sure that news had spread like fiendfyre and her friend was probably concerned, so she gave him a reassuring smile as she led Simon – Bugger it all. – Snape to her office.
"He's devoted to his wife and his three grandchildren." She bit her tongue, annoyed with her babbling. Why did I tell him that?
Once they were safely in her office, behind a closed door, Hermione realized her tactical mistake. They'd been in this position before, and he'd kissed her senseless then. Her palms grew tingly at the thought, so she rubbed them against the fabric of her trousers as discretely as possible.
"So, you wanted to see me?"
“No,” Severus stated quite simply. He waited a beat before beginning to speak again, mostly because he’d caught a whiff of a fragrance. A fragrance he’d personally brewed for the witch standing in front of him. It gave him enough courage to take a step toward her.
His tone was soft and unlike his normal sarcastic speech when he said, “I had no desire to merely see you, Hermione. I have come to humbly beg your pardon for the damage I’ve done to you and our – friendship. I don’t know if you read or burned my letter of apology and it doesn’t matter except that I would like to repeat the words. I was completely and utterly wrong, and I chose a cruel way to demonstrate my apparent ongoing stupidity in misjudging your motives in cultivating our friendship. Can you possibly forgive me enough to give me another chance?”
If she refused, there was the answer to the question that had plagued him since the last time he'd seen Hermione. If he had no hope of rekindling what they had had, he would leave, and keep Dumbledore’s last curse as the only source of light left.
No.
He had said no. That hurt more than she wanted to admit.
And then he apologized, again, for hurting their friendship.
She wanted to tell him that he had ruined a lot more than just a simple friendship, that he had broken her heart, but she couldn't.
Nothing has changed, not really. He's still obsessed with Lily and I'll never be anything but second best, maybe not even that. I can't do that.
"Oh, Severus. I can forgive you, I do. But I can't give you another chance, I'm sorry."
It was rather surprising how low Severus’ spirits sank when she forgave him, but refused to allow him to remain in her life. His eyes dropped and he nodded his head. His last words to Yorick came back to mock him now. It had been a foolish mission, at best.
“I understand,” he stated while raising his eyes and meeting her glance. “I can’t bring myself to throw my body on the floor and grovel, Hermione, so I won’t trouble you further. Your Mister Fitzgerald will be adequate to handle any requests I send in the future.”
Turning toward the door, he paused when The Forbidden Arte of Amore nudged him in the side. Pulling it, and his notes, from the vest pocket he laid it on a corner of her desk.
“Consider this a belated Christmas present, if you will. I have no further need for it, and it should make you a tidy sum someday if you ever figure out the rest of it. Fare well in your life, Hermione. You deserve it.”
Shutting the door quietly behind him, Severus didn’t pause to look at any of the books on the shelves. He was reminded of a time, not too long ago in this very room, when he’d disregarded them in favor of a witch.
She is gone, but the books will remain. Again.
For some reason, she hadn't expected him to look so upset at her refusal.
He was out the door before she looked at the book he had left and realized there was something tucked into its pages.
Mere seconds later, she had scanned the notes and read bits and pieces of his handwriting, just enough to figure out what he had been working on.
An antidote!
Her heart seemed to stop beating for a moment, then started again, faster than before.
Hermione dropped the book on her desk and ran to the door, jerking it open hard enough that it swung back and hit the wall in her haste.
He had made it to the front door and she would never reach his side in time to stop him unless she...
Loud enough to be heard throughout the store, Hermione called out as she rushed toward him, "Severus, wait! Please!"
The bang of a door startled Severus somewhat and he picked up his pace as he neared the front door. Hermione’s words reached him as his hand touched the handle to exit.
She probably wants to refuse the gift. Give her the opportunity or leave and make her send it by owl?
That at least would give her time to read the notes and realize the potential.
And be terribly, terribly rude behavior behavior on my part.
Which she does not deserve.
Severus considered the options briefly and turned in resignation.
“Miss Granger, you could have returned the gift by owl if needed. It really wasn’t necessary to test the hearing of everyone in the shoppe,” he stated with more than a trace of the old sarcastic tones coming to his aid at long last. “I’m sure all within a three block radius would have thanked you.”
That's the Severus I remember.
"I don't want to return it, I want to discuss the notes you left in it. If you don't mind. My office, again?" She offered a tentative smile. "Please?"
For one brief moment, Severus had hope, but before they could gain a small foothold on his soul, he dashed them into shards with a firm shake of his head.
“No,” he stated again quite simply. “You have everything I could bring to the puzzle in my notes, Miss Granger. The smartest witch of her age should be able to piece together the rest.”
Severus knew he was throwing away a chance to be with her, possibly work along side her, but without the hope of some type of relationship to build upon…
“As I said,” he told her in a firm tone. “I no longer have any need for the antidote and don’t wish to waste any more of my time delving into possibilities. I make enough for my needs, therefore it’s yours to do with as you please.”
She’d hurt his feelings with her refusal.
That wasn't even close to making them even, but it was enough to give Hermione the hope she needed to extend her hand toward him.
"What if it would please me to work on the antidote with my friend? Will you give me another chance?"
Pushing aside the inner, snide voice that told him Hermione was playing him for a fool, Severus slowly took the small hand she offered, but refused to move.
“If you’re saying, what I – What I hope you’re saying – you don’t require a second chance, Hermione. You’ve never used up the first one.”
Glancing down at their hands, he squeezed hers gently.
“I can make no promises,” Severus advised soberly, when his gaze rose again. “There are no guarantees we can find an antidote. Even then, that I will… That my feelings will… We may end up as we began, Hermione. Merely friends. I think you know all that, but I need it said.”
Part 1 / Part 26