Chapter Text
In orbital mechanics, ‘orbital decay’ is a gradual decrease of the distance between two orbiting bodies at their closest approach over many orbital periods. These orbiting bodies can be a planet and its satellite, a star and any object orbiting it, or components of any binary system.
With the beginning of autumn, came the start of scarf and sweater season. Hermione had been looking forward to it. She was well and truly sick of summer, and the sticky, sweaty heat that had accompanied it that year.
She quickly shuffled some bits of parchment together that were spread across her desk, sliding them into her work satchel so she could look them over while eating leftovers from a takeaway container over the sink in her kitchen. She sighed heavily and gazed around the empty office. It was a small team, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; Hermione led the magical ‘being’ division, acting as a liaison along with a variety of other tasks that were required of her, often ones that were outside of her role; all without complaint.
Her head of department, Gethsemane Prickle, was an accomplished Potioneer and Herbologist, who led the magical ‘beast’ division. She was often out of office with her duties, leaving Hermione in a mostly empty department for the day. She loved it when she had the space to move around freely and uninterrupted. Though she had initially intended to become a Potions Master upon leaving Hogwarts, she’d chosen to direct her passion into equality for magical creatures instead.
The result, however, was that she often fell into her old work-a-holic patterns, leaving the Ministry long after she should have most days.
After clocking out, Hermione quickly made her way out of the Ministry headquarters and into Diagon Alley. Deciding to take the short path home that day. She cut through Knockturn Alley and slipped through the little bookstore that served as a bridge between the magical streets and the Muggle world on the opposite side of the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione slipped through, nodding to the shopkeeper as she walked past. Due to her late working hours, she’d purchased a townhouse in Whitechapel, walking distance from the magical quarter. At that time of the night, she kept her head down and walked to avoid being approached by anyone on the street. As she was dashing past an alleyway a block over from Knockturn, she saw something that gave her pause.
Quickly casting a Disallusionament spell on herself, Hermione quietly walked a little closer to the entry of the shady brick lane, trying not to breathe too loudly.
Was that… no. Hermione blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. Surely not? She felt her jaw drop when she saw the tall, dark, familiar form of Severus Snape in the laneway speaking in hushed tones to a short, stocky man. There was an exchange–– money and something in a nondescript brown paper package. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, not believing what she was seeing.
‘It’s all there,’ Snape told the man as he began counting the pound notes with his chubby fingers.
‘Y’can never be too careful, ey?’ the man said roughly, shoving what looked like a business card into Snape’s hands. ‘Ere now; you can call me anytime you want another hit, ey fella.’
Even from that far away Hermione could tell Snape was sneering. ‘I can assure you, if I require your services again, I will be in contact,’ her former professor drawled.
Realising that she was likely to get caught spying if she didn’t move, Hermione quickly shifted to the side, watching as the stocky man trudged out of the lane and back down the street away from the city centre. Snape stood alone in the alley, clutching the brown-wrapped package to him, his head hung low. She couldn’t see his face with his hair obscuring the way. She hardly knew what to think, but given the information that had been presented to her, she had a pretty good idea.
Snape looked up and his eyes darted around the darkened lane, before he Apparated, spinning away into the night.
Hermione had no idea what made her do it, but she dashed into the alley where Snape had stood moments before, and used a tracing spell to track him. She Apparated, following the magical trail he’d left behind and found herself in a dirty laneway behind an old pub. Her eyes flickered over to a flutter of black fabric as it disappeared around the corner, and she jumped to action, not wanting to lose sight of Snape.
She followed a little ways behind him, ensuring to keep quiet and stay out of sight in spite of the spells she had disguising her. His long legs moved quickly through the streets and laneways until he came to a house at the end of a dingy row. He pulled out a key and swiftly unlocked the door before disappearing inside. So, that must have been where he lived. Hermione vaguely remembered something from Snape’s trial after the war. He had been exonerated and given the Order of Merlin first class as a consolation for the terrible way he had been treated after Albus Dumbledore’s death.
Hermione was surprised that he would choose to continue living in the small, shabby walk-up. It was not a nice neighbourhood. She could tell just from being there for a short while that wherever she was, it looked to be the remnant of a long-stagnant industrial town. She knew very little about the man’s life before she was his student, and even less about what had happened with him after the end of the war seven years earlier. He had been in the papers during and after his trial for a while, and then he had gone off the grid.
Not wanting to risk getting caught, Hermione turned around and made a note of her directions as she walked back to the pub before apparating home. She needed a hot shower and to do some thinking.
By the time Monday came around again, Hermione had spent the better part of her weekend thinking about Severus Snape. Her briefcase full of papers had sat on the bench in her front entryway for two days unopened. She’d paced, cooked, cleaned, read, and even tried to do a little yoga to attempt to distract herself from what she had witnessed on Friday night.
As she dragged herself into the office with a takeaway cup full of coffee, Hermione had poked her head into Gethsemane’s office to see if she was in. Much to her surprise, she was seated behind her desk that morning with her glasses perched at the end of her nose, and her silver hair pulled back into a haphazard bun.
‘Morning,’ Hermione greeted, walking all the way in. ‘We missed you last week.’
Gethsemane scoffed. ‘I highly doubt that.’
Hermione rolled her eyes at her boss and mentor, crossing her arms. ‘Where did you get off to last week, and were you successful?’
‘Romania,’ the older witch answered with a wide smile that Hermione had not seen in quite some time. It made her suspicious.
‘Did you happen to see Charlie Weasley while you were there? You should have told me,’ Hermione said with a sigh, dropping into the chair across the desk from her boss.
‘Charlie was up in the mountains apparently. I spoke to the Head Keeper at the reserve largely,’ Gethsemane said, two spots of pink appearing high on her cheeks.
Hermione smiled; the jig was up. ‘Ahh, so that is what kept you away for so long,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Good for you.’
‘Yes, well,’ Gethsemane said, clearing her throat and trying to look dignified. ‘How was it here last week? I’m assuming you are ahead with your own work? You really should start leaving on time at the end of the day. You’ll work yourself to death.’
Hermione shrugged and said, ‘I have no personal life to speak of, and I enjoy my work.’
Gethsemane levelled her with a flat stare. ‘Hermione, you do not want to be single when you are my age. Have yourself some fun once in a while,’ she said. ‘Off with you, now. I have work to catch up on.’
Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled good-naturedly at the woman across from her. She’d always felt like she’d hit the jackpot to have Gethsemane as the Head of Department. She was a kind but firm leader, and she was very passionate about her work. One of the few department heads that refused to delegate every single thing to people below her, and a very intelligent woman. Hermione had always thought, if she was even half accomplished as Gethsemane by the time she was fifty, she would be happy. She stood and with a final wave, strolled into her own office and sat behind her desk silently.
Seeing her boss had been a pleasant distraction; it had taken her mind off the Snape conundrum, if only for a little while. The thing she was struggling with the most, was putting her finger on what exactly happened to Snape after he’d faded back into obscurity. She didn’t even know if he worked, or what he did for work if he even had a job. She knew that he’d refused Hogwarts and Minerva.
Sighing heavily, Hermione opened her work satchel and forced herself to Occlude so that she could get her work done for the day.
At exactly five, much to the surprise of her boss and other colleagues, Hermione packed up her things for the evening and left the office. She’d had some time during the day to take stock of things, and consider the Snape issue while she got her paperwork from the weekend sorted. She needed to talk to Minerva McGonagall. She made her way to the nearest Apparation point and was in Hogsmeade before she could bat an eye.
She knew the students would likely be out of class and meandering around the castle before dinner. It had been a while, but Hermione was hopeful the headmistress would not mind her imposing on dinner and a chat afterwards. Walking with purpose, she made her way to the castle, pausing at the gates to send her Patronus off to be allowed entry.
The castle gates opened just enough to allow her entry, and she made her way up, grateful for the long walk. The chill in the air made it easier for her to not overthink, because she was too preoccupied with being freezing. As she approached the castle, she was surprised to see Minerva waiting for her at the door.
‘Hello, my dear,’ Minerva greeted with a warm smile. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’
‘So good to see you, Minerva,’ Hermione replied, accepting the tight hug the older witch enveloped her in. ‘Sorry for coming on such short notice.’
‘Are you all right?’
Hermione nodded. ‘I’m perfectly fine, but I do have a few things I wanted to ask you,’ she answered as they stepped into the castle and out of the cold. ‘I know I’ve come at a slightly awkward time with dinner about to start…’
‘Nonsense,’ Minerva chidded. ‘If you are happy to eat dinner with us in the Great Hall, you and I can head upstairs for a chat afterwards.’
Hermione nodded. ‘Gods, I can’t even remember the last time I had a Hogwarts dinner,’ she said with a grin. ‘I’m not sure my stomach will know what to do with it.’
Minerva laughed softly. ‘I’m certain it can’t be worse than the Chinese takeaway down the road from your house.’
Hermione blushed at being caught out. ‘I’m time poor and not a particularly good cook,’ she admitted with a sheepish smile. ‘Who told you?’
‘Young Mr Weasley might have mentioned it once in passing when I overheard him discussing the end of a romantic connection between the two of you,’ the Headmistress said as she led the way around to the staff entrance of the Great Hall.
Hermione frowned and huffed in annoyance. Of course he would call her out that way. ‘He has a big mouth.’
Minerva laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Never you mind about that,’ she said with a smile. ‘Cooking is time-consuming. I might have been a decent cook in my twenties, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve had to prepare a meal for myself, and I can’t say for certain I still could.’
The two women walked up to the head table and Minerva summoned an extra chair for Hermione to sit beside her. She felt incredibly self-conscious knowing that the entire student body would be able to see her up there. She sat, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as the Great Hall started to fill with students and staff alike. She received many stares from the sprawling sea of faces, along with friendly greetings and smiles from many of her former professors.
She could feel her cheeks heating in embarrassment at having so many eyes on her. No matter how many times her face had been pasted over a two-page spread in the Prophet , she never enjoyed it, and would never be used to it.
‘No need to be so nervous,’ Minerva murmured from beside her. ‘They’re just not used to having a celebrity in their midst.’
Hermione sighed and covered her face with her hands as her cheeks heated anew. ‘Please don’t remind me,’ she groaned, reaching out for the goblet of water in front of her, and gulping down some of the chilled liquid.
Aside from her initial embarrassment, dinner was a fairly pleasant affair, and she didn’t have time to spend in her own head as she had teachers on either side of her wanting to talk. She politely answered everything she could while still trying to shovel food into her mouth. After the meal, she followed the Headmistress up to her office, and Minerva ordered a tea service from one of the House Elves. They sat in the armchairs stationed in front of the fireplace before Minerva’s curiosity got the better of her.
‘What really brings you here this evening, Hermione?’
Hermione paused, not wanting to give too much away, but still needing to know more about Snape for her peace of mind. She had a feeling, though, there might not be so much peace to be found.
‘I was curious–– I’m trying to find out a little information about Professor Snape,’ she said, fumbling for the right way to phrase her question.
‘Severus?’ Minerva said in surprise. ‘Why, dear girl?’
‘I saw someone the other day that reminded me of him, and I was wondering what he was up to, or what happened after the war,’ Hermione said, a little proud of her white lie. ‘I hadn’t heard about him for, well, years actually.’
Minerva hummed and tapped her fingers against her lips thoughtfully. ‘Severus did what he does best after all of the media attention died down and he recovered from his injury. He went underground and ceased communicating with almost everyone. I still get a card and bottle of scotch from him at Christmas, but otherwise he prefers to be left to his own devices. I haven’t seen him in person for over a year.’
Hermione swallowed the lump that began forming in her throat at the Headmistress’s words. ‘I see.’
Minerva looked a little ashamed as she spoke her next words, ‘To be honest with you, Hermione, not one of us has put any effort into trying to connect with Severus. I am the most guilty of this. He was once a dear friend and rival here, and I wished I could convince him to return and teach. At least that way, I might have been able to draw him back out of his shell again.’
Hermione nodded sadly. She was also guilty of having forgotten about Snape. ‘I don’t think any of us intentionally forgot about him,’ she said quietly. ‘But somehow unintentionally forgetting about him feels even worse.’
Minerva’s lips thinned. ‘Perhaps I should reach out to him more regularly?’ she mused, just as their tea arrived on the coffee table in front of them.
‘I think that might be a nice idea,’ Hermione agreed, although she wasn’t certain if their conversation had raised more questions than it answered.
‘Milk and sugar?’ Minerva asked as she poured the tea.
‘Just a splash of milk please.’
‘Now,’ Minerva said with a small smile. ‘Tell me, how have you been?’
Hermione drank her tea, and the conversation thankfully shifted away from Snape, and on to a discussion about her job and then Hogwarts. She left after tea and as she walked slowly back in the direction of Hogsmeade, she found herself at a loss with what to do in regards to Snape. On one hand, it really wasn’t any of her business what Snape did with his life. On the other hand, Hermione wasn’t exactly known for giving up on cases that appeared to be hopeless - it was a weakness of hers, championing for people who weren’t in a position to do so for themselves.
And from what she recalled of Severus Snape, he was not someone who spent very much time being kind to himself–– especially lately.
Once she’d made it back to Hogsmeade, Hermione Apparated home and dragged herself through the shower before collapsing on her bed. It wasn’t often she would spend an evening socialising after an exhausting day of work. That night as Hermione fell into a fitful sleep, she dreamt of Snape’s pale, grey skin, and dark endless eyes filled with despair.
To be continued.