What The Future Holds

Chapter 4 - An Epiphany for the Potions Master

By Ehann

It had taken nearly two months of trial and error, not to mention, a great number of trips to see Pomfrey, as well as waking up in various and sundry odd places. Places in his mind, he clarified mentally, for benefit of any incarnations of himself who might be mind jumping at the moment.

After the eventful meeting between himself and Hermione—he sighed, admitting privately that he did indeed think of her as ‘Hermione’, now, instead of by her surname—he had reported to Dumbledore only the fact that while Hermione had no useful information to the cause—he had nearly choked on his words at the time, he recalled—but that surely if he, Snape, developed a similar potion, he could find something! After all, he reasoned, he had the mind of a scientist, a spy and perhaps most importantly, a Slytherin. He felt certain that if he had access to the future workings of his mind, he would be able to bring back some clue as how to best proceed against Voldemort. Perhaps, there would be some preemptive strike, in the future, he thought. Snape imagined that Dumbledore might find the idea of striking prior to an attack…distasteful to his Gryffindor sensibilities.

So, while still under the Veritaserum, he’d had Hermione write down exactly what she had done in class that day. Shortly after that, he had tracked down Malfoy in the common room, and made it clear that he had had better remember just how many Desert Rose Cactus Needles he had dropped into the cauldron. He remembered looming over Malfoy, moving closer and closer still, narrowing his eyes, and glaring down at the boy until he had cracked, and spilled everything he knew.

It had been, he ruminated, quite a lot of fun, actually. Now, he sat at his desk in his private workshop—a tiny room just off his personal quarters—and inspected the just completed Sight Out of Mind potion he’d created. He had used droplets of menstrual blood from the same vial as Hermione had used. He had added a drop of his own blood to the Skrewt Dropping, binding the potion to him. Those damned Needles were the questionable ingredient. So far, the three potions he’d brewed had not thrown him to his future consciousness at all. Three different times he had opened his own eyes to find himself in depressingly familiar surroundings. He had not thought of checking his reflection in a mirror to gauge the effects of time on him, however. He made a mental note that if it was at all possible, to do so on this trip.

If he was successful, that is.

There was always the outside chance that he could render himself as mentally fluent as a turnip. He chuckled, thinking of all the students who might feel that to be an immense improvement over the current state he had been working in for the past two months. Obsessed was perhaps too strong a word, but certainly he had been…well, driven. Working all hours of the night, mixing ingredients, tracking down menstrual blood…He sighed. Truthfully, he was exhausted. And matters had not been helped by the amazingly vivid dreams he’d been having. He hated to even think about them, and the only thing that seemed to help distract him was working on the Sight Out of Mind potion.

For he had been dreaming of another life that he had yet to live. A life where he laughed out loud in delight, without reservation. A life where he had something to smile about. A life where he…Gah!

He was doing it again. Going over and over his dreams, as if that made them real. Best to face facts, Severus, he told himself. That future may never happen. For just a moment he concentrated on the wrenching in his chest, focusing on it in fact. Then he concentrated, folding up his desires and shoving them to a dark corner of his mind for later inspection.

There was work to be done. There was planning involved in all this theoretical nonsense. For instance, Hermione had been out cold for nearly twelve hours. Presumably, that was the amount of time her consciousness was embedded in her future self’s brain. Therefore, he had to make sure that in the event the potion worked, he didn’t end up missing one of his classes. Or Merlin forefend, a staff meeting, he thought wryly.

On second thought, it would be a pleasure to skip the Monday Morning Festivities that began with Slytherin-Gryffindor double Potions. I believe I despise teaching that class as much as the students hate attending it.

Fine. Tonight it was. He carefully ladled a sample of the finished product into one of his glass vials. Holding it up to the light, he assessed for clarity of color, precipitate and mostly, to get the general feel of the thing. Each potion, he knew, had its own specific energy. He tried to remember compare the new batch to what Hermione had produced. Hmm. Similar, he decided finally. Not a perfect match, but then it wouldn’t be. It was bound to him, after all.

He corked the vial and swept out of his workroom into his bedchamber. Hopefully, this would work and he would find himself….

Very happily occupied, his mind whispered.

No! That was not the reason he had begun this experiment. He was working for the procurement of information to aid the fight against Voldemort. Snape snorted. And I’m trying to make the world a safer place for Wizards and Witches everywhere, he thought scathingly. Lie to others, if you must, Severus. Never lie to yourself.

Rolling his eyes, he silently admitted it. Fine.

For information on Evil Itself and…a little happiness would not be amiss, either.

He sat on the edge of his bad, and pulled off his boots. Removing his robe, he tossed it carelessly over the back of a plush green armchair. He swung his legs up on the bed, and drank.

~~~~~~~~~~

He had the sense of something that he could not put into words. Perhaps it was the sensing of travel, comparable to using a Portkey. Rather it was like the space between Disapparition and Apparition. No words in existence could describe it.

The remnants of the real world faded into a memory and then he simply floated in the black.

~~~~~~~~~~

When next his consciousness began the ascent from the depths into something resembling awareness, his first sense was that of comfort. His second sense was fear. His mind felt split in two, simultaneously thinking that he grateful to be where he was and that he wished he was anywhere but here. A voice spoke to him, a voice that was quite familiar, as a matter of fact.

“Open your eyes, damn you. I know you can hear me.”

Herm—Miss Granger.

He struggled and failed to open his eyes. They did open, after the fact, but it was not his will that instigated the action. It felt like there was someone else living in his brain.

Someone who was in control.

“Not so sharp, if you please,” he heard himself say. “It’s splitting.” His hands went to his temples where Severus felt a distant pounding.

“Humph. Serves you right. I refuse to believe you were that stupid, Professor. Why if Harry hadn't found you and dragged you behind that wall, you’d be a corpse right now, did you know that?”

“That might have been preferable,” he muttered. His head rocked to one side with the force of her blow, then she was shaking her hand out, bringing it to her mouth. Snape—the owner of this body—felt such remorse for his thoughtless words that Severus, the silent observer, was surprised.

Hermione had tears dripping from her eyes, and her hand cupped over her mouth. “I can’t believe you were going to throw your life away, you idiot! After all you—It’s been four years. When are you going to accept your feelings, and I know you have them.” She leaned forward, eyes blazing. “I see it every time you think I’m not looking, the expression on your face. Severus…”

Snape swallowed, his throat tight. He closed his eyes. He had been through this with her, for so long….he despaired of ever making her understand his stance on this. She seemed to think that just because he desired her, and wished to be in her presence, even if it was when she slept….

Severus couldn’t understand why his future self was having so much trouble. The situation seemed fairly self evident, to him.

That’s because you don’t know the whole story, came the acerbic thought.

Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed, lifting his hand and holding it to her face. “I know I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks, and I can’t believe that you do.”

Snape turned his face to the wall. “Go away, Hermione. The last thing you need is an ex Death Eater, these days. Who knows, I might even end up in Azkaban, with the current state of the Ministry.” He forced himself to risk a glance at her. It was worse than he expected—she looked….

As if her heart was breaking, Severus finished the snapped thought.

“No,” she shook her head. She lay down next to him, and put her arms around his neck the best she could. “If you felt nothing for me, you never would have kissed me. Never would have made love to me. You can’t just take it back like it never happened.”

“It happened,” she told him. “It was real. And if you tell me that you regret it, if you can look me in the face and tell me that you don’t love me, then I’ll walk away, no questions asked.”

The words she’d requested hovered on Snape’s lips. It was for her own good, he thought. He couldn’t let her become the subject of stories in the Daily Prophet, or listen while people snickered behind her back. “Hermione…you know we can’t…can’t be together…”

She laughed and sobbed at the same time. “Tell me you don’t love me, God damn you! If that’s the way you feel, then make me understand. Are you the man who loves me, or the man who leaves me? Severus… please. Tell me. Who are you?” Tears ran down her cheeks in steady droplets, mixing with mucus, before falling from her jawline onto his hand.

Then he had her by the back of the neck, pulling her down, taking her lips and kissing her. He licked her lips, then slipped his tongue between them. His arms were like steel bands behind her back, and though he was afraid he might hurt her, he couldn’t seem to let go. “The one who loves you,” he growled harshly. “Merlin help us, Hermione, I’m the one who loves you.”

She turned her face away, burying it in his neck instead, and sobbed out her relief against his warm, warm skin. “I love you,” she said. “Don’t ever put me through that again, or I swear, I’ll kill you myself.”

Chapter 5 >>