Written for the lovely Talesofsnape for the 2013 hpcon_envy LJ community.

Many thanks to Toblass for the quick beta!

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The first thing Severus becomes aware of is the blades of grass tickling his nose. The ground is fragrant and refreshing, full of the fecund smell of bourgeoning life. The crags and sharp edges of his Azkaban cell are no longer pushing into his skin. The bitter cold is curiously absent, allowing his joints to move unencumbered from pain.

The second thing he notices is the light and airy atmosphere surrounding him. It appears to be early morning, as dew clings tenaciously to petals of flowers that are starting to open from the shafts of sunlight warming them. There are no jeering or abusive guards that hover in the shadows, waiting to crush the fragile blossoms as surely as they’ll crush the life from another inmate.

The third—and most confusing aspect of his altered location—is one Hermione Granger, sitting cross-legged, not far from his position and watching him intently. She is dressed in Muggle blue jeans and a blouse that is white and pale yellow, the sleeves billowing with her movements as she idly creates a chain of oxeye daisies. Her feet are bare, each toenail touched with a peach-coloured hue that makes his breath hitch in his chest.

Is it to be torture then, before he dies? Allow him this moment of reprieve before the Dementors steal what’s left of his soul? How did the prison officials sanction this little trip to the countryside? He surely didn’t ask for it as a last request. He glances down to see that he’s still wearing his prison-issue garb, so that has not changed, at least.

“How do you feel?” Granger asks, studying him intently.

He breathes deeply and exhales loudly, thoroughly confused as to why his frame doesn’t hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and rolls to his back, panic starting to creep through his veins.

“Where am I?” he manages, his voice somewhat raspy from screaming.

Granger looks off to her right and frowns. “I’m not quite sure; Hertfordshire, I think.”

“You don’t know?” Severus sits up, intending to deliver a scathing opinion, but his tongue refuses to move, the words caught in his throat.

Beyond him is a vast meadow of lush, green grass, rolling hillsides, copses of trees and the clearest blue sky he has ever seen. Had he not been sitting in the middle of the majestic spectacle, he wouldn’t have believed beauty of this magnitude existed. A myriad of scents wash over him with each warm breeze that drifts by. If he were alone, he might’ve broken down in sobs to have witnessed something so pure. As it is, he’s not, so he’ll not disgrace himself by snivelling.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Granger says softly, giving him a gentle smile.

His eyes narrow. Did she know what he was thinking? How? Was it some sort of twisted Legilimency? But that wasn’t possible; he was an expert in Occlumency, able to keep the Dark Lord at bay for years. A mere student newly quit of Hogwarts would have no chance to breech his defences, even if she were a know-it-all swot.

“Why are you here?” Severus snaps.

Her expression shifts into something resembling resignation. “You should explore the area,” she suggests, evading his question. “You might even find a few people you know.”

He means to demand her answer to his original question, but her last statement throws him into utter confusion, mixed with tentative hope. Slowly, his gaze never leaving Granger’s, Severus stands and steps away from her proximity. Granger makes shooing motions, a spark of mischief glinting in her eyes. Curiosity getting the better of him, he turns and cautiously heads down the hillock towards a small stream. He stops upon seeing two people huddled together, balanced precariously on the boulders in the middle of the flowing water. A sob does escape this time, as he recognises the shock of long, red hair next to a young man with hair black as his own.

At his whimper, the woman turns and looks over her shoulder, her smile and eyes wide when she spies Severus. She tugs on the sleeve of the man next to her, dragging him up the slope to meet with Severus. A moment later, and he is engulfed in a bone-crushing embrace between Lily and Regulus. He closes his eyes and relishes the outpouring of love and affection denied him for the majority of his life.

---

Severus awakens once more in the field, the clouds allowing dappled sunlight to dot the meadow. And once again, Hermione Granger is sitting on the grass near him, plucking daisy petals in a childhood game of ‘he loves me, he loves me not’. She’s in a simple dress this time, of sage green and dark purple, a light cardigan gracing her shoulders. She looks pensive and grief-stricken.

The words are out of his mouth before he can recall them. “What’s wrong?”

She startles a bit, as if being caught out doing something naughty, sniffing but brushing away the wetness at her eyes and smiling. “Nothing at all. How do you feel?”

He glances down and sees that his clothing has been changed to a simple black linen shirt and trousers—far more comfortable than the muck and grime-covered clothing that made his skin itch. He sits up and mirrors her pose. “You asked me that yesterday. I feel adequately well, given that I’m currently a resident of Azkaban. Am I meant to feel differently?” He snorts. “Do they think to heal my soul with pretty pictures and false reunions with people I know are long dead? A vibrant soul is a feast for the Dementors, indeed.”

She looks as if he’d slapped her. “No! That’s not… No, I would never do that to you.”

“You? Are you responsible for this pathetic display of sentiment?” He sweeps his hand to encompass the idyllic scene. “Only you would think of something so wretched and pitiable for one such as me. Tell me, Granger… what are you getting out of this little spectacle?”

Once again, she refuses to answer his true question. “You don’t like it here? What would you prefer?”

He wants to rail at her, to spit vile things so she’ll leave him alone, to let him live out the remainder of his hours on this earth in some obscene sort of peace. But her pleading expression does horribly odd things to his chest, makes his heart ache in a way that hasn’t since Lily died.

“I can make it better,” she whispers, tears near to overflowing.

No, there is nothing that makes it better.

---

This time, when Severus wakes up, he is no longer in the meadow, but in his old bed, in his old chambers at Hogwarts. He bolts upright in a panic, his gaze darting everywhere, looking for potential danger. He shouldn’t be here, no matter what clout Granger has with the Ministry. That’s the conclusion he’s come to—that Granger has convinced the Ministry to allow her access to the last remaining Death Eater before he’s thoroughly Kissed by the Dementors. But to what purpose? As a favour to Potter?

“I should’ve realised that open spaces would make you feel vulnerable. I’m sorry.”

Severus turns his attention in the direction of the voice, off to his left. He discerns a young lady sitting on one of his ornately carved ladder-back chairs. Hermione Granger is wearing a dark green dress this time and sits with her legs crossed demurely at the ankle. Her hands are folded and resting atop her knee, as if she is in prayer.

She looks around the chamber, a hint of a smile playing about her mouth. “You’ve always felt safe here.” Her gaze drops to her lap. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Severus has no idea what the girl is going on about. Why is she constantly apologising?

“It should last for quite a long time, but I can come back and check on you often.”

He makes to get out of bed, but is unsteady on his feet, so he sits back down and remains on the edge. “Am I to stay here then?”

She bits her bottom lip and nods fervently, smoothing out the pleating in her skirt. “Don’t hesitate to tell me if you want something changed. Within reason, that is.”

“What of my sentence?”

Her head tilts as she studies Severus closely. “It has already been carried out. That’s why I’m here.”

Sound rushes through Severus’ ears, blotting out his vision, sheer panic stealing his breath. Already carried out? Is he… then why… His tongue is stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. He wants to speak, wants to scream, wants to rend the chamber to splinters. It’s no wonder Granger can hear his thoughts—she’s inside his bloody head!

“Severus?”

A set of delicate fingers are threading through his clenched ones, soothing the trembling muscles in each digit. Granger is crouched down in front of him, touching his cheek, stroking his skin.

“I wish I could do more for you, Severus,” she murmurs. “I’m only able to work with images that were already stored in your brain.” She clears her throat. “I was able to capture quite a bit before your body went into decline.”

Wet hiccoughing can be heard echoing in the chamber, and when he realises that it’s originating from his own mouth, he is surprisingly not ashamed. “I’m dead.”

He doesn’t need to see her anguished expression to know the truth of it. “Your body died three days ago.”

“What is all this?”

She sniffs and follows his gaze to encompass the chamber. “A refuge,” Hermione says softly. “The only one of its kind. When Harry couldn’t convince the Ministry to budge on your sentence, he asked me to help. I created this to house… well, for lack of a better term, your mind. Only Harry and I know about it, so you don’t have to worry about intruders.” She grips his hand tightly and ducks her head so that she can look Severus in the eye. “Are you afraid?”

He feels another sob welling in his chest. “Only a fool would say that he wasn’t,” Severus whispers brokenly.

A tender kiss is placed upon his brow and a gentle hand tucks strands of his hair behind his ear. “You were never a fool.”

The warmth of her presence dissipates as Granger steps away. Fear rises in his throat at her impending absence, but a hand on his shoulder calms him.

“Don’t be afraid, Severus. I promise I’ll return.”

He feels her fade from his consciousness, leaving him bereft. He does not know where his soul is—whether it was utterly devoured by Dementors or is locked in some endless cycle of regret and madness. He has no idea where his body is, or even if there is a body. Perhaps it was cremated and the ashes scattered to the four corners. Perhaps it lies rotting in a shallow, unmarked grave, nothing more than fodder for fungus spores. At this moment, however, he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Here, he is safe.

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Talesofsnape requested:

SS/HG; the scene takes place inside Azkaban. It's the last time the participants will meet under these circumstances. Reason is up to you. Parting and goodbyes are the theme.