the day before you came - severus snape x reader

Chapter 6 - The Visitors

You're roaming through the dimly lit study, stroking the old books that pile up on the wooden shelves and studying the oil paintings on the walls. There was one in particular you never quite understood. It was The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli.

Though it was beautiful in a haunting way, you would never hang it up in your own flat because it was just so irritatingly frightening.

You eye the old furniture, the leather sofa and your favourite armchair – the soft and slightly worn out fabric brings up beloved memories and you tremble slightly, wanting to bask in them, but an ominous sound arouses your interest. It's a whisper from outside the door, barely audible in a normal situation, but now crassly loud and tearing through the silence.

You suddenly cannot move, you're standing numb and frozen among the things you love so dearly – the books, the paintings, the furniture.

"It's terrible that the Ministry is so incapable, the dementors are now created out of nothing and creep around like flies", the gentle voice mutters. An agreeing, slightly higher hum comes in response.

"Clearly a shame, that. He's been dead for more than a year now, bloody useless politics", the latter voice answers. "And that poor thing over there, still in shock, hm? Doesn't remember a thing." 

Your eyelids flatter a bit. The study around you starts to get blurry and slowly disappears, leaving you in nothing but darkness again. A strange, short push-and-pull sensations makes your body feel funny.

"It seems like it, yes, although it surprises me. The effects should have died down a few minutes after an encounter." The older voice sounds slightly more worried now.

"Maybe she got obliviated, eh? Didn't recognize the bus either."

A drowsy yawn escapes your throat, and you crack one eye open, slightly disoriented by the soft shaking of your bed, but your surrounding quickly wakes you up.

The bus!, you remember.

You hear people moving behind your back, muffled noises coming through the door and you turn to your other side to make out where the louder growing voices are coming from, irritation building inside your stomach.

Through the foggy door, you make out two men, one tall and stiff (Stan, you remember), the other a few years older, wiser and much more relaxed although he wears a troubled look on his face – the Professor.

Slowly, you start to recollect what happened before you fell asleep. Yawning again, you rise from your bed and tiptoe to the front wagon. You're not going to eavesdrop, you just want to gather some information about your position, yes. No harm will be done.

"I'm gonna take her to Hogwarts, speak with Albus about the matter if she's okay with it. She doesn't seem to have bad intentions – any intentions at all, she looks quite lost." The Professor laughs sympathetically.

Stan nods his head. "Old Dumbledore surely has a piece of advice."

You cough loudly and knock on the door, growing uncomfortable about their discussion on your fate and the names you don't recognize.

Stan flinches at the knock, looking rather startled and blushes as he sees you. "Goodmorning, M'lady", he stammers, then practically flees from the wagon.

Morning? You must have slept through the rest of the night.

You wave after him with a thin-lipped smile and turn to the Professor, who looks at you with prying eyes.

"How are we feeling today?", he asks you with fatherly interest and you are a little bit uneasy with the open kindness he has towards you, living the last months in self-chosen isolation.

"Quite disoriented", you answer honestly, deciding that you can trust him for now, besides him being the only real contact you've had in a long while, Stan excluded.

He looks at you with compassion, but no pity, and you are thankful for that. His hands open the door and he guides you back to the bed to sit down, all while he asks: "Do you remember anything from the previous night?"

You suppress a laugh at the suggestive tone of the question, but you decide to not make it any more difficult than it already is and nod your head.

"Although it seems like a bad dream."

He hums. "Do you recall that I told you about Hogwarts and me being a teacher there?"

You nod again.

"I want to make a proposal, though I'm pretty sure you've already heard what I'm about to say", he grins and you're suddenly growing hot at being caught, but he dismisses your embarrassment with a wave of his hand.

"I want to ask you to come with me and meet Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and my dear friend. While I don't know your intentions, I have a feeling you tried to escape something yesterday, and I'm not speaking about the Dementor. I don't know what it was and neither do I want to push further for it seems it was a personal matter – but I do think that Hogwarts is the best place for you. For now, at least."

You size him up und think. You have no idea where you are and how to get back to your flat. You don't know a thing about Hogwarts, you never even heard of it, but the sound of its name touches something inside of you. You know it sounds cheesy, but it feels like it was foreseen.

You look back in his blue, gentle eyes and all at once you know that you have been waiting for this and there is no escaping now. You should be crazy with anxiety, accompanying a stranger you barely know, but it seems like the months and months of grieving and pain finally make way for a new chance. And so, you answer with a certainty you haven't felt in a long time.

"I'll go with you, Professor."

He smiles at you, not at all surprised, and you briefly wonder if he's some sort of guardian angel in disguise.

"I'm glad. Hogwarts suits someone like you, and it's been waiting for new visitors." He claps his hands, but you quickly interrupt him: "Under one condition, Professor! Tell me about these stupid dementors you're talking about the whole time."

His face falls slightly at my request, but he gathers himself fairly quickly and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"We will have enough time to talk about this once we're in Hogwarts, dear. And please, call me Remus. I doubt I will be teaching you any time soon."

You shrug with distain and frustration that you're still being left out. It's not your fault that you're not knowing what they are babbling about.

"At least tell me what kind of school Hogwarts is and why I have never heard about it", you command in a huff.

Remus' eyes glitter with joy and he rummages in his bag. Behind him, in the gloomy morning light, you spot your face in the reflection of the window, and your eyes shine with a new glow you'd forgotten existed. They shine with hope.

The bus ride shouldn't last much longer than a few hours. Remus entertains you by presenting you all sorts of bizarre sweets and snacks that you apparently could find at Hogwarts and its surrounding, but not telling you any more about it.

His eyes carry a childish gleam as he shows you a chocolate frog – an animated chocolate objects that could do one jump before it could only limp away.

"I've never seen this kind of chocolate in London", you complain, completely bewitched by the tiny frog.

Remus chuckles, the glimmer in his eyes shining brighter than before, and you find yourself growing fonder of the Professor by every minute.