Chapters 231-240

Faith

The CRACK! that heralded a cross-Channel Apparition echoed in Severus’ ears. Like all noises these days, it reminded him of all the sounds that Alina couldn’t hear anymore. He could feel a vein begin to pulse in his temple.

To all appearances, Alina was coping admirably with her disabilities. The first two silent spells she’d mastered were Wingardium Leviosa and Dictaquill. Now wherever she went, a piece of parchment floated over her right shoulder, with a Dictaquill scribbling down whatever she wanted to ask or say. Her friends and teachers had adopted similar methods when addressing her. Apart from that she was seeing a Muggle specialist who was teaching her to read lips. And—Severus couldn’t quite suppress a smirk—she was teaching her little friends a secret sign language that was already causing trouble in the classrooms of a few of his colleagues.

But his smirk faded when he thought of the expression on the young girl’s face when the voices inside her mind became too loud to bear. The way she’d excuse herself politely and hurry to her dormitory to listen to Woodstock’s singing and cuddle her idiot jarvey until the sighs and screams faded again.

Severus shook himself and turned to the cathedral. It was a cold day, but the weather was dry and clear. He was all set to walk briskly towards the cathedral. But when he looked up at the Gothic towers, he halted before the first step.

A memory hit him like an iron fist into the pit of his stomach. Hermione. Here. Right after their wedding. How she’d twirled in front of him, thrilled at the surprise. The solemn look in her brown eyes as he’d led her down the side aisle of the cathedral. How he’d snarled at her for the irrelevant faux-pas of stuffing her hands into her pockets.

He was not prepared for the pain that wrenched his heart in the wake of that particular reminiscence. For a moment he stood motionless. It was an effort to breathe.

But he could not break down now. He was here for a reason.

oooOooo

‘Pardon, je cherche l’abbé Rigaud.’—Excuse me, I am looking for Father Rigaud.

‘Oh, je suis désolé, monsieur. L’abbé Rigaud est décédé. Il est mort oh…je pense en Decembre?’—Oh, I am very sorry, Mister. Abbé Rigaud has passed away. He died oh…I think last December?‘

oooOooo

There was no good reason to visit the Cimetière Saint Chéron in der Rue Saint Barthélemy, but Severus went anyway. He had to ask for the way twice, once near the cathedral, and then again at the cemetery itself. But at last he stood in front of a plain, unassuming tomb.

was engraved in the grey stone. And:

A long life. A good life. Severus sighed. The Abbé had been right with his prediction that they would not meet again.

Severus recognised the epitaph as a quotation by Saint Augustine.

Severus sank to his knees. I believe that Hermione is still alive, he thought desperately. I do. I have to.

But here, where nobody knew him, where no one had ever heard of him or of his world, Severus allowed himself to sink down on his knees. He bowed his head, buried his face in his hands, and cried.

A gentle voice penetrated his own private hell of grief. ‘Sir? Was he a friend of yours? Is there anything I can do for you?’

A monk in Franciscan habit stood a few feet away, regarding him with a worried expression. Something about the monk seemed familiar, but Severus couldn’t place him. He shook his head and quickly rose to his feet. ‘No,’ he said curtly. For a second Severus wanted to hex the man just because he was a monk. ‘No. I need to—I need to catch my—my train.’

He spun on his heel and hurried away. As soon as he was safely out of sight, he Apparated with the slightest POP! he’d ever managed for a cross-Channel Apparition.

oooOooo

‘I am sorry, Harry,’ Draco said. ‘But wherever Hermione is, it is a place that ghosts can’t reach.’

Harry couldn’t reply at once. He rested his forehead in his hands and resisted his temptation to rub his burning eyes. That would only hurt. For all that his eyes had turned more or less to stone, they were still curiously sensitive.

On the other hand, he couldn’t cry anymore.

Some people probably would have called him lucky.

At last he raised his head again and wearily rubbed his scar. ‘Thank you anyway. I really appreciate that.’ Then he sighed and turned to a nearly man-high stack of parchments. ‘Now, where were we with this mess?’

Since he couldn’t work as an Auror anymore, Harry had been assigned to the archive of the Ministry. He shared office space with Draco and he was still not sure if this was actually a real job, or just charity.

oooOooo

One night Hermione struck down the nun who brought her dinner with the wooden stool. A minute later she discovered that the wards that kept her from Apparating also kept her from simply walking out of the cell. From then on two nuns came to serve her meals, and she suspected that a third was waiting outside the door.

oooOooo

Of course she also tried to use voiceless magic in order to unravel the wards. Severus Snape hadn’t been her husband for nothing. But the spells that imprisoned her were more devious than that. As soon as she touched them with her power, they sucked her magic out of her, body, mind and soul. Afterwards, the enchantments that held her captured were stronger than ever.

oooOooo

She tried not to think of Severus.

And failed.