Author's Notes: This was written for the HG/SS holiday exchange on Live Journal. This was the prompt I chose: #71. Fic: Post-war Hermione and Severus are both doomed to spend Xmas alone until they run into each other in Diagon Alley or London. How, why, and what happens next is up to you. Happy ending, please. Any rating. This prompt was submitted by GinnyWeasley31, and the story is dedicated to her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Special thanks to my beta reader, JuJuJenn. And thanks to Illyria who did some Brit-picking for me. Any errors, however, are mine alone.

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Eight

Two days after the Halloween feast, Filius Flitwick’s head appeared in Snape’s fire.

“I must talk to you immediately, Severus,” Flitwick said. “May I come through?”

“Of course, Filius,” Snape replied. He pushed aside the pile of first-year essays he’d been grading and got to his feet as Flitwick stepped out onto the hearth.

“Drink?” Snape asked, holding up a decanter of brandy.

“Yes, and make sure you pour one for yourself. We actually have something to drink to tonight!”

Snape set the decanter down and spun to face the tiny wizard.

“You’ve done it?” Snape asked. “You’ve created the counter-curse?”

“I have finished all the theoretical and linguistic work,” Flitwick corrected. “We must still test it on our animal specimens. I am confident, however, that the counter-curse will work.

“I sent my notes and formulae to two different colleagues – keeping the entire discussion hypothetical, of course. Working independently of each other, each of them reached the same conclusion I did.”

“How soon will you be able to begin the animal testing?” Snape asked. He turned back to the table with the decanter and poured brandy into two glasses.

“We will need to cast the curse on several animals, including both the Nogtails. Then we will need to allow them to heal completely before we attempt the counter-curse.”

Snape handed one of the glasses to Flitwick.

“Will the fact that Miss Granger’s injury is more than six years old make it more difficult to repair the damage?”

“I hope not. That’s why we need to wait until the test animals are completely healed before we make the attempt. Miss Granger may have thicker scar tissue, perhaps even some adhesions. I would like to try to reproduce her injury as exactly as possible. I know that we can make a vast improvement in her appearance, but I don’t know if we will be able to repair all the damage.

“Excellent brandy, Severus,” Flitwick added as he sipped the amber liquid.

“I will cast the curse tomorrow morning before classes,” Snape said as he sipped his own brandy. “Hagrid will be pleased that we are, at last, going to make an attempt to cure his ‘wee beasties’, rather than just sacrifice them as we’ve been doing for the last few months.”

“If Hagrid knew that it was Miss Granger we were attempting to help, he wouldn’t be so reluctant. He’s always had a soft spot for her.”

“Indeed,” Snape said. He wondered what Filius would think if he knew that Snape, too, had developed a ‘soft spot’ for Hermione?


The following morning, Snape made his way to the remote spot in the Forbidden Forest where the test animals were caged.

Flitwick was already there, as was Hagrid.

“You didn’t need to be here, Filius,” Snape said.

“I thought I could help by casting the Stunning Spell for you. You’re going to need to cast the curse at least twenty times. You’ll be exhausted when you’re done.”

“I appreciate your consideration,” Snape said.

Flitwick picked out ten of the largest, healthiest looking rats and, one at a time, he Stupefied them. Snape then cast the skin melting curse on each of them. They repeated the process with ten ferrets and both the Nogtails.

Then Hagrid brought out six hairless rabbits.

“I’ve been takin’ care of ‘em since their mum got killed,” Hagrid said.

“We don’t need to use your pets, Hagrid,” Snape assured him.

“Iffen’ me bunnies will help Hermione, then I want you ter use ‘em,” Hagrid said.

Snape didn’t ask Hagrid how he knew that Hermione was the one they were trying to help. Although large and lumbering, and occasionally indiscreet, Hagrid wasn’t stupid. Like Filius, Hagrid had probably put the clues together and arrived at the logical answer.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Flitwick piped up. “Having a hairless animal to work with will actually be a help.”

Flitwick cast the Stunning Spell on each of the rabbits. By the time the last one fell over unconscious, there were huge tears rolling down Hagrid’s cheeks and into his beard.

“Go on and do it quick, afore I change me mind,” Hagrid said to Snape as he blew his nose into a spotted handkerchief.

Snape cast the curse six more times and then tucked his wand back into his sleeve.

“I hope I shall never have to hear the words ‘subtergum fundo’ again,” he said with vehemence.

“Go on back to the castle and have some breakfast, Severus,” Flitwick insisted. “I’ll stay behind and discuss the care of the animals with Hagrid.”

Snape nodded and walked away.


Four weeks later, Flitwick was once again in Snape’s quarters, sharing a brandy with him. He had just returned from the makeshift animal hospital, which Hagrid was running deep in the Forbidden Forest, and had determined that the test animals had healed enough to attempt the counter-curse.

“It’s not really a counter-curse,” Flitwick explained. “It’s actually a brand new charm that mimics the old curse.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Snape said.

“In my notes, I refer to the curse Bellatrix modified as a Masking Curse – Magically Activated Subdermal Kinesis. What I have created is, for want of a better definition, a Remasking Charm – Redistribution of Magically Activated Subdermal Kinesis.

“We will basically cast the same curse Bellatrix Lestrange cast, though the wording is a bit different, and the charm light is amber, rather than orange. The beam can be focused, quite precisely, with the wand. This will result in the subdermal tissue melting, or, rather, re-melting. The distinction is that we will control the melt. We will redistribute the melted subdermal tissue back into its proper place, reshaping it as we go. Then we will smooth the epidermis back over it.”

“It sounds very much like the Muggle plastic surgery Miss Granger’s mother asked her to consider,” Snape said.

“Don’t those Muggle doctors use knives?” Flitwick asked with a shudder.

“In some cases, yes, but there is also a relatively new device being used these days called a laser. It works by focusing a beam of high-intensity light.”

“Yes, well, there is one other element of the charm that no Muggle doctor could ever reproduce, and that is intent. The Unforgivables are only effective if the caster has the intent to cause harm. Conversely, this charm is only effective if the caster has the intent to do good, or to help the person it is being cast upon.”

“You have created the first of a whole new class of charms, Filius,” Snape said. “You should call it a Commendable. Perhaps the Ministry will finally take notice and give you the recognition you deserve.”

“You know that means nothing to me, Severus,” Flitwick said. “Besides, I must keep a low profile for as long as that bastard Scrimgeour and that cow Umbridge hold positions of authority in the Ministry. If I ever decide to publish this, I will do so under an assumed name or through one of my untraceable intermediaries. More importantly, if I were to publish information on the Remasking Charm, I would also have to publish information on the original curse, and I believe that is better left to legend.”

“You’re probably right,” Snape agreed. “Some megalomaniac will figure out how to use it and fancy himself the next Dark Lord.”

Flitwick stood and placed his empty brandy glass on the side table.

“We’d best get some rest tonight, Severus. Tomorrow will be a trying day.”

“I admit I’m a bit concerned. I’m not a medi-wizard and have nought but the most minimal of medical knowledge outside of the healing properties of potions. How will I know if I’m achieving the proper results?”

“You won’t be casting the Remasking Charm, Severus,” Flitwick said, “and neither will I, thank Merlin.”

“Poppy?” Snape surmised.

Flitwick nodded. “I’ve been working with her for the last two weeks, explaining the charm and teaching her the incantations. She has a great deal of affection for Miss Granger, so she will have no problem forming the proper intent when the time comes. I will assist, but mostly I will be there to guide her through the proper procedures. She will be doing the actual reshaping of the subdermal tissue as she is familiar with anatomy.”

“How will I be of help, then?” Snape asked.

“We have been using a Stunning Spell on our test animals. We need you find another way to keep the subject asleep and unable to feel pain for at least several hours. I had first thought we would be able to use a bewitched sleep, but that slows down the metabolism so much, the Remasking Charm would be ineffective.”

Snape stroked his long nose with a slender forefinger as he considered the possible potions he could use.

“Sleeping Draught will put the subject to sleep, but there is a difference between being asleep and being unconscious. The draught may not cause a deep enough sleep to prevent the pain that will accompany the procedure. The Draught of Living Death may be necessary.”

Flitwick sighed. “That is the conclusion I reached, as well.”

“The dosage will have to be carefully regulated. As the subject …” Snape jumped to his feet and began pacing.

“Fuck this, Filius; we are talking about a person, not a bloody test subject!”

“Indeed, we are. The ‘test subjects’, however, are necessary for practising the charm. We will have just one opportunity with Miss Granger. We must get it right.”

Snape stopped pacing and resumed his seat. “It will be very difficult to balance the proper dosage of the Draught of Living Death along with the healing potions and painkillers.”

“We have ten rats, ten ferrets, two Nogtails, and Hagrid’s six hairless rabbits. I would rather we make our mistakes on the rats and ferrets. The Nogtail’s skin is most similar to human skin, thus we should use them to perfect our technique with the Remasking Charm. If at all possible, I would like to be able to return Hagrid’s pets to him.”

Snape smiled at that. “As would I.”

“Is two days sufficient time for you to do the proper calculations and brew the potions?” Flitwick asked.

“I’ll need to weigh the animals to calculate the dosages. The brewing won’t take long; I have everything I need in my lab.”

“Poppy and I have been using the Room of Requirement for our lessons. We will set up our makeshift operating room there, as well.

“Shall we say, Friday night for our first test?”

“I’ll be ready.”


It was a very trying time. Snape watched as the test animals twitched in pain when the dosages were too low or lapsed into coma and died when the dosages were too high.

He berated himself more harshly with each failure.

Flitwick reminded him that failure was only failure if one didn’t learn from the experience. Snape would grumble and swear – and go back to his lab to rework his calculations for the fifth, tenth, or twentieth time.

Poppy was also experiencing doubt. The first animal she cast the Remasking Charm on ended up looking worse than when she had started. She had thrown her wand down in disgust and declared that Filius would just have to find a competent matron to cast the charm.

Flitwick had reassured her, expressing his confidence in her abilities.

“It just takes practise, Poppy,” he said, patting her consolingly on the back as she sat on a low stool in front of the fire.

It took nearly three weeks, but by the time the last ferret had been treated, both Snape and Madam Pomfrey were able to perform their tasks nearly perfectly.

The two Nogtails were treated and, had they not been classified as moderately dangerous creatures by the Ministry of Magic, they could have been released back into the wild, none the worse for their experience. As it was, Hagrid decided to keep them, although he did build a special pen for them, far away from the castle’s vegetable gardens.

The six hairless rabbits were returned to their pre-cursed state. Hagrid cried when Snape levitated the cage with the restored rabbits down to his hut.

“Lookit ‘em!” he bawled. “They look like they never bin hurt.” He poked a sausage-sized finger through the bars of the cage to stroke a hairless rump.

“Did you miss yer daddy?” he crooned.

“Madam Pomfrey did an exceptional job on them,” Snape said.

“And they dinnit suffer none?”

“We made sure they didn’t feel any pain,” Snape assured him.

“I’m grateful ter yeh,” Hagrid said.

“We are grateful to you for offering your pets for our experimentation. It was helpful to have them.”

“Is Hermione goin’ ter be all right, Professor?”

“In spite of our tests, there is a difference between animals and people. We are hopeful, however, that we can repair the damage Miss Granger suffered.”

“I ain’t never really seen what was done ter her, but I seen what my poor bunnies looked like. She was hurt bad, weren’t she?”

“Indeed she was, Hagrid.”

Hagrid sniffled again. “You’ll fix her. I know yeh will.”

“We shall give it our very best effort.”


“We need to contact Miss Granger and get her here,” Flitwick said over brandy that evening.

“The Christmas holidays start in five days,” Snape said. “I will arrange for her to be here the day after the students leave. We can perform the procedure the next day.”

“It will be a lovely Christmas present for her, won’t it, Severus?”

“Let’s hope so, Filius,” Snape replied. “Let’s hope so.”


After Flitwick left, Snape sat down to write to Hermione to tell her that they were ready to attempt to repair her injury. It was then that he realised how fiercely he missed her and how fervently he desired to see her healed.

They had sent letters back and forth on a regular basis, but they had only seen each other once since the end of the summer holidays.

Now, the realisation that he would see her in just a few days caused a flutter of anticipation.

What would happen in her life once she was healed? Would their relationship move forward? The problem, he conceded, was that he wasn’t sure what his feelings for her were.

He knew he desired her; that had not changed. He admired her courage and respected her intellect.

While not conventionally pretty, Hermione was certainly not unattractive. Once she was able to resume normal interactions with people, both magical and Muggle, she would attract the notice of any number of men. They would be men of her age and without his saturnine homeliness. He hoped she would be discerning enough not to fall for the first man who flattered her ego.

He felt protective of her. At that thought, he felt the tingle at the back of his mind that reminded him of the promise he’d made to Albus.

The idea of Hermione being used and cast aside caused a sudden, sharp pain he didn’t immediately recognise.

He thought it the height of absurdity that his promise to Albus might force him to comfort her after some witless oaf broke her heart.

He dropped his quill as he came to a sudden decision.

He went to the hearth and threw in a pinch of Floo powder.

“Minerva McGonagall,” he said.

“Is everything all right, Severus?” Minerva asked a few moments later. She was wearing a green tartan dressing gown, and her hair had been released from its usual bun, but was tidily secured in a hair net. “It’s late. I was just getting ready to retire.”

“I need to speak to Albus,” Snape said.

“Now? Can’t it wait till the morning?”

“If it could wait, I wouldn’t have bothered you,” Snape said.

Still she hesitated.

“Please, Minerva,” Snape said.


In all the years she had known him, she had never seen such a pleading look on his face.

“Is this regarding Hermione Granger?” Minerva wanted to know.

“In a way, though not directly,” Snape replied.

“Do you need me to be there?” she asked.

“No. I just need the password.”

“The cat’s meow,” she said.

“Thank you, Minerva. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you, I’m fine.”

“You’ll let me know if you need my help?” she persisted.

“Of course. I just need to clarify something with Albus.”

“He’ll be glad to see you. He misses you, you know,” McGonagall said in a slightly chiding tone.

“Good night, Minerva,” Snape said without commenting on her remark.

“Good night, Severus,” she replied.

Snape pulled his head back out of the fire and closed the Floo connection.


Less than five minutes later, he was standing in front of the statue of the gargoyle that guarded the spiral staircase that led to the Head’s office.

“The cat’s meow,” he intoned and wondered if being Headmaster or Headmistress automatically instilled the desire to have ridiculous passwords. If that was the case, he sincerely hoped he’d never be appointed Headmaster. (Though he was sure there was very little likelihood of that ever happening!)

The gargoyle leapt aside, and the wall behind it opened, revealing the stone staircase. Snape stepped onto the bottom step and rode the turning spiral staircase up until it deposited him outside the highly polished oak door that led into the Head’s office.

He didn’t bother with the knocker, but opened the door quietly and slipped inside.

As though sensing his presence, a wall sconce lit, bathing the room in a soft glow. Snape looked around at the portraits of the previous residents of this office. They all seemed to be slumbering in their portrait frames. He could hear their soft snores. He made his way to the newest portrait to find its way to these walls.

“Albus,” Snape whispered. There was no response.

“Albus!” Snape called a little louder.

The likeness of Albus Dumbledore, which was slumped against the side of his frame, snorted a bit and opened one eye sleepily.

“Severus!” Dumbledore exclaimed as he straightened up and blinked.

“Keep it down, old man,” Snape whispered. “I’ve no desire to have my business become the subject of rumour among this lot.”

“Oh, we’re old hands at keeping secrets,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

Snape just snorted.

“It’s good to see you, my boy,” Dumbledore said.

Snape had to swallow the lump in his throat. Although his killing of Albus Dumbledore had been ordered and planned by Albus himself, Snape still carried a burden of guilt over it. Until now, he’d been unable to face the portrait of the man he’d been forced to kill.

“I … I am sorry I have not been in to see you before now,” Snape mumbled.

“I understand, dear boy. You are here now, however, so you must have something important to say.”

“I have a favour to ask of you.”

“As you can well imagine, being dead has diminished my powers somewhat, but I will do what I can,” Albus said.

“You must release me from my promise to protect Potter and his friends,” Snape said.

Dumbledore seemed surprised by the request.

“What promise?” he asked.

“Don’t be obtuse, Albus,” Snape hissed. “You know very well to which promise I am referring.”

“Might I remind you, Severus, that it is in very poor form to castigate a dead man?”

Snape scowled. “Might I remind you that patience has never been one of my virtues?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, I seem to remember that. The only time you displayed any patience at all was when we were playing chess. I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish that last game,” he added, “even though I was on the verge of being checkmated.”

“Weasley played the game out,” Snape mumbled.

“Ronald Weasley?” Dumbledore asked.

“It’s a long story. He … he took over your game and actually managed to defeat me.”

“He always was underrated as a strategist,” Dumbledore said. “He turned out well, didn’t he? It is gratifying to know that both he and Harry ended up as Aurors.”

“As much as I would like to spend the next several hours engaged in idle gossip,” Snape said with as much sarcasm as he could muster, “there are things I need to do.”

“I’m not keeping you here, Severus. You are free to leave.” He closed his eyes and rested his head against the side of the portrait frame.

“Albus, you meddlesome old fool, you have not released me from my promise, yet!” Snape said, poking a finger into Albus’s painted chest.

Dumbledore lifted a lid to glare at Snape. “There is no promise to release,” he said, and then he closed his eye again.

“Don’t be daft!” Snape shouted, no longer concerned with waking the other portraits in the room.

“I am dead, Severus,” Dumbledore said, opening both eyes and fixing Snape with a penetrating stare. “I am neither daft, nor deaf. Do not shout at me.”

“You must release me from my promise. Please, Albus,” Snape said.

“And I repeat: there is no promise to release. The promise was fulfilled the moment Tom Riddle was destroyed.”

“That’s not true,” Snape insisted. “I have … I have felt it. I have been acting under its influence for nearly a year.”

“Explain,” Dumbledore said, sitting up straight and no longer looking sleepy.

Snape told Dumbledore about meeting Hermione at the Muggle bookstore. He told him about injury she had received and how it had been sapping her magical energy. He related the details of the counter-curse that Flitwick had developed and the experiments they had done on the animals.

“We’re ready to perform the Remasking Charm on Hermione … Miss Granger,” Snape said.

“It sounds like everything will come to a good end for her, then,” Dumbledore said.

“We are hopeful,” Snape said.

“Now, my boy, tell me the story behind the story,” Dumbledore said.

Snape flushed. “I think I have come to … to care for Miss Granger.”

“You think you care for her?” Dumbledore chided.

“That is why I need to be released from my promise; I need to be able to differentiate between my enforced obligation to her and any … any feelings I might have for her.”

“And I will tell you, yet again, that you were released from your promise when Voldemort fell.”

“But I felt it!” Snape insisted. “I could sense that her magical energy was dangerously low. She was underweight and on the verge of collapse. I was about to let her walk away from me – her welfare was no concern of mine, after all – when I felt a … a tingle.”

“A tingle?” Dumbledore repeated. “This tingle reminded you of your promise?”

“You begin to understand my dilemma,” Snape said.

“No, Severus. You continue to fail to understand that there is no dilemma.”

“You speak in riddles, Albus,” Snape said.

“I don’t know how much plainer I can state the facts, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “Do you remember your original promise to me?”

“As if I could ever forget it. I promised that I would aid Potter in his fight against the Dark Lord in any way I could, and that I would protect his life, even at the sacrifice of my own, until the Dark Lord was defeated or I was dead myself.”

Dumbledore nodded. “After the incident with the troll during Harry’s first year, I realised that he had formed a bond with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, and they with him. They would fight for him, and with him, and would follow him into whatever dangers he would face. I knew then that they needed to be brought under my and your protection, as well.”

“That was when the promise was modified,” Snape said. “I promised to aid and protect Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger in the same manner, and with the same diligence, as I would protect Mr. Potter.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “You pledged to aid and protect all three of them ‘until the Dark Lord was defeated’.”

Snape scowled as he considered Albus’s words.

“Then … then what was the tingle?” he asked.

“Oh, Severus, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said with a sad little smile, “the ‘tingle’ was not the result of some long-fulfilled promise; it was your own innate desire to help her.”

“There is no promise? There is no magical obligation binding me to her?”

“None. Be assured that anything you think you feel for Miss Granger comes from the workings of your own heart and is not any of my doing, even if I am a meddlesome old fool.”


Dumbledore smiled down on the man he had loved like a son, the man he had placed such an onerous burden upon, the man he had trusted with his life.

“Be happy, Severus,” Dumbledore said in benediction. “I know you have trouble believing it, but you deserve to be happy.”


Snape lifted a hand and touched the painted face of the man he had loved like a father, the man who had always believed in him, the man who had trusted him with his death.

“Thank you, Albus,” Snape whispered.

Dumbledore nodded sleepily as his eyes drifted closed and his head bent to rest against the side of the portrait frame once again.

Snape slipped out of the room and returned to his quarters to finish his letter to Hermione.

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Additional Author's Note: The admins here on Ashwinder have graciously extended Validated Author status to me. I am humbled by, and grateful for, their trust in me. Because of this added responsibility, I would like to ask my readers to be on the lookout for any mistakes that get past me or my beta. If I am notified of any grammatical, spelling, punctuation, or Canon errors, I will review and correct them as quickly as possible. I always want my stories to be of the highest quality and your help is appreciated. Thanks, Diane