Author’s Note: This is a birthday gift for esmestrella. Her request was for a fic which presented a sort of character portrait of Severus in the years between Lily’s death and Harry’s arrival at Hogwarts. He would be 27/28 years old in the year this story takes place. Severus Snape has a pen pal!

09/01/87

Professor S. Snape,

I happened upon your contribution to Britain’s “Modern Alchemy” in July and was so taken with your theories that I have taken the liberty of this correspondence. I find that your article raised as many questions as it answered, and I felt that going directly to the source would be the most efficient manner of getting them answered. I hope you do not mind my corresponding with you in this manner.

In the article you posit the theory that the fermentation stage is directly affected by the psychological state of the practitioner, that a state of inner and outer distress or profound grief can in fact affect the outcome of the experiment by actually shortening the fermentation stage. This theory that the practitioner’s psyche or psychological state may have direct impact on the outcome of the process is, in my humble opinion, an idea which must be addressed if modern alchemy ever hopes to progress.

I am of the opinion that this aspect of the experiment may, in fact, be the vital one in attaining the ultimate goal of producing the Philosopher’s Stone. The practitioner and practice must become one. If I have misunderstood your intentions with the article, then please feel free to correct me. I would very much enjoy corresponding on this theory further.

Sincerely,

Professor Violet Brehm

New England School of Magical Studies

Dept. of Alchemy

30th September 1987

Professor Brehm,

Forgive the tardiness of this response. Your correspondence caught me at the beginning of term, and the ensuing chaos has kept me quite occupied.

From the brief synopsis you provided, it does appear that you grasped the general theories posited in my article. Had you further questions? I am at your disposal.

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

10/10/87

Professor Snape,

Accept my apologies for having bothered you needlessly at so busy a time of year. It was thoughtless of me. When it is quite convenient to you I would greatly appreciate if you could answer some questions in regard to the specifics of your experiment.

Though the article never specifically states, and I am only too aware that I run the risk of overstepping the limits of your generosity, I must ask - am I to understand that you were the practitioner in this case? If so, what was the specific nature of the trauma? I ask this only because I myself have experienced a personal loss of late, and am seeing interesting parallels in my own work, and as the work in turn progresses, in my own psyche.

Sincerely,

Professor Violet Brehm

New England School of Magical Studies

Dept. of Alchemy

24th December 1987

Professor Brehm,

Forgive the extreme tardiness of this reply. Upon receiving your correspondence I found that a proper answer required some level of internal analysis, the depth of which I did not have the time or energy for until the present. Though I am more than aware that the extreme tardiness of my response more than requires an apology, I hope that the detailed nature of my current correspondence may make up for it.

First, may I extend my condolences for your loss, whatever it may have been. In answer to your question, such a loss is very likely to impact the outcome of the alchemical process, most specifically the fermentation stage. The main result one sees, as the article stated, is that the process speeds up, taking far less time than the writings and research indicate it should.

In regard to your other question – the nature of my own personal trauma – I can only say that it was multi-layered and complicated. It did not consist of one loss, but of a myriad of losses, traumas and disappointments that stretched over a 5 year period. I assume, from the wording of your previous correspondence, that your personal trauma involved the loss of a loved one or loved ones. This was an aspect of my experience, but was not it in its entirety.

At your disposal,

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

01/16/88

Professor Snape,

I had nearly forgotten that I had sent my previous letter, so imagine my surprise when I discovered your reply upon return to work after the Christmas break.

You were correct in assuming that my trauma involved the loss of loved ones, specifically my six year old daughter Caroline. It was a loss compounded by the untimely death of her father two years prior to a wasting disease that seemed to have no diagnosis or cure. The doctors and healers here were at a complete loss. They theorize that it was the same illness that took my daughter, but as it progressed much more quickly in her case, they cannot be sure.

Please accept my deepest condolences for whatever losses you may have personally experienced, as well. I suppose that we both might find some small consolation in our work, and that it has been those very losses that have lead to this discovery, the ramifications of which have the potential of being quite profound.

I cannot help but wonder, too, if guilt plays a role in the experiment’s results. I have carried profound guilt, especially in my daughter’s case, as I cannot help but wonder if perhaps I should have seen the signs, and that if I had seen them sooner, then perhaps she might still be with me. Intellectually I know that the disease was swift moving and incurable, but perhaps if I had worked harder at coming up with a cure when my husband was taken, it might have been ready and waiting when the same specter came for my dear daughter. These thoughts torment me almost constantly, and I do believe that they must have some sort of impact on the experiment’s outcomes.

I would dearly love to know your thoughts on the subject.

Your’s Truly,

Professor Violet Brehm

3rd February 1988

Professor Brehm,

I believe that you may be correct in your assertion that guilt is a factor in the changes you are witnessing in your own experiment. It was and remains a factor in my own as well

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

02/27/88

Professor Snape,

Certainly I may be overstepping the bounds of this acquaintance, but I have come to view you as a colleague of sorts through our correspondence, and I now find that I have no one else to confide in, so I hope that you will indulge me this one personal missive and not think the worse of me for it.

It appears that the disease that took my husband and then my daughter, was not random, but was instead the result of a curse placed on them by a probable enemy of my husbands. There are those who think me in danger as well, and suggest that I go into hiding, but for what purpose, I cannot help but wonder. If the curse was set from a distance, it should not matter where I hide myself, and it will only mean that I will severely hamper my ability to continue my work with no visible benefit.

I do believe that in Britain you tend to keep yourselves separate from the muggle population, but things here in America are quite different. My husband worked in both the muggle scientific community doing groundbreaking research in physics and in the wizarding community doing Alchemical research. His theories (I am not sure if you are familiar with the writings of Michael Brehm), were considered fringe and dangerous in both communities and made him many enemies. Apparently someone was outraged enough to put a stop to it.

To be fair, I suppose that some of what he proposed probably threatened their world view in its entirety, and they were only doing what they thought necessary to preserve it, but that does not return my husband or my daughter to me, and there is nothing I abhor more than closemindedness. One must push the boundaries of what is known and accepted as truth if we are ever to expand beyond our current state.

I hope that this letter finds you well. The weather has been bitterly cold here of late. I ran to the supermarket yesterday morning without drying my hair and it was frozen solid by the time I had walked a block. The snow is thigh deep in some of the more shady spots and they say that we are to get more next week. Winters here can be bitterly cold at times. Sometimes I consider moving to California where it is warm, but the thought of battling Los Angeles traffic (yes, I drive a muggle vehicle when I must) is not an entirely pleasant thought.

Yesterday at the park I saw a little girl playing in the snow that was so like my Caroline, that my heart stopped and for one horrible moment I almost thought that it was her, that perhaps it had all been a horrible joke, that she had never died at all, just been snatched up and ferried away to be raised by someone else. Of course this was not the case, but the pain it caused me was more profound than I could have imagined. I sometimes think that there is nothing more painful than these constant little reminders of those we love.

There is a man who delivers mail to my department that looks so much like Michael (my husband), that every time I see him I feel my heart break afresh. And it is not as though I can avoid him. He brings mail every day. Those are the hardest moments, when we are faced with someone, or something that is a constant reminder. Just when we feel our heart may heal, it is torn asunder again by a simple glimpse. I’m sure that you too can attest to this. Sometimes in my weaker moments I think that perhaps they haunt me on purpose, not wanting to be forgotten, wanting me to remember what they meant to me. As though I could ever forget.

And then there are those who strive to keep us bound. Michael’s father, who is also, unfortunately, the head of my department, is so set on me carrying on his son’s research, whether it is of interest to me or not, that he hounds me constantly, and is most certainly not above feeding my guilt if he thinks it might accomplish his end. Sometimes I come away from a meeting with him feeling as though my head and heart are tied in knots as he’s somehow managed to twist me every which way. Granted he is a very renowned scientist in his own right, and I must admit to his brilliance, but I cannot help but resent his constant insinuating himself where he is not wanted. It is a horrible thing to feel as though one’s life is not their own.

Well, I have most certainly taken more than enough of your time. Forgive me this indulgence.

Your’s Truly,

Violet Brehm

15th March 1988

Miss Brehm,

I was amazed to learn that your late husband was Michael Brehm. I have been a great admirer of his alchemical research for many years, and in fact wrote an essay on his theory of Personal Conjunction for my seventh year final exam. I had heard that he had passed, but did not immediately make the connection. Please accept my deepest condolences yet again. Your husband was a great man, and to lose not only a friend, but an intellectual equal must have been painful to the extreme.

In regard to the situation in which you currently find yourself – do you not think that it might be in your best interest to heed the advise of those close to you and at least try to protect yourself to some extent? I cannot imagine that your late husband would have wished you to take so light a view of the current threat against your life. My only advice would be to take whatever precautions you deem necessary, and be very careful who you trust. Sometimes the viper dwells within our own walls, not without.

I was fascinated by your description of American magical culture. I realize that you are not as segregated as we are here in Great Britain, but had not thought it as extreme as you seem to describe. Do you truly intermingle fully with muggle culture then? Are your muggle colleagues aware of your magical inclinations?

I had to smile at your mention of driving a muggle vehicle. It is something I have never learned, though when I was home visiting my mother before she passed several years ago, it would have been a most useful skill to have, or at least would have been preferable to public transportation. My upbringing as a child was primarily muggle, though once I was of age to go away to school (11 years), I spend the majority of my year ensconced in all things magical. I do still take holiday in my late mother’s house on occasion, though, just to be away from all the madness.

You mentioned the harsh reminders of your loved ones, most specifically, of seeing someone or something that suddenly reminds you of them. I have been fortunate in that there has not been much in that vein to trouble me, however this may not last. One friend in particular had a son before she passed, and when he comes of age, I imagine that he will be schooled here. This will obviously necessitate my seeing him every day. It is not a circumstance I look forward to, and I can imagine that it must be trying indeed to be faced with your husband’s doppelganger within the walls of your own department day after day.

I can also most certainly appreciate your situation with your father-in-law. I find I have little advice, for I too find myself in a very similar situation. It is trying at times, but I suppose all one can do it continue on in one’s duty, and find small pleasures where one can – in one’s work, afternoon strolls, or, on occasion, as I have discovered of late, in the pages of a letter from a colleague.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

04/02/88

Mr. Snape,

In your last letter you spoke of afternoon strolls. I would imagine that the Scottish and English countryside must be lovely in the spring. Autumn is the most beautiful season of the year here in New England. The trees turn a riot of colors and the air is crisp, while the sun is warm. Perhaps if my work ever offers the opportunity for me to travel to Britain, or yours to bring you here, we might share such a stroll. There’s nothing quite like a brisk stroll to clear the mind. I have often found that I come up with some of my most promising theories while walking.

You laugh at me driving a muggle car. You would no doubt laugh even more heartily if you were to see how abysmally I do it. I have been in two minor accidents in two years. Not a very promising statistic. Truly I am a hazard and should not be let on the roads, but no one seems to have seen fit to revoke my license as of yet, though the rising cost of my insurance may work as a fairly effective deterrent in the very near future.

You mentioned using public transit when you used to go home to visit your mother. Was your mother muggle then? Both of my parents were muggle, so they were quite shocked when I suddenly levitated the cookie jar off of the counter when I was six. They accepted it fairly well, all things considered. The nature of American magical culture has made it very easy for me to balance between both worlds. I would imagine that this might present more of a challenge in Britain.

We do intermingle quite freely with the muggle world; however, most muggles remain unaware of our magical leanings. They may, perhaps, think us a little odd or eccentric, but that is usually as far as it goes. Some things are best kept quiet, especially when it might be very difficult for some people to assimilate into their world view. America has a very strong Puritanical history, the sentiments of which still hold sway in many parts of the country. A mass ‘coming out of the closet’ if you will, would most likely result in full on chaos, if not outright witch burnings.

That being said, those in the magical community general live in muggle neighborhoods, shop in muggle stores, etc. Caroline had several non-magical friends, and young as she was, if she ever let slip any unconscious magic and her little friends happened to mention it to their parents, they would only think it a mere figment of a child’s imagination.

I was sorry to hear of your friend’s passing and of her leaving a son. Is he with family then, and not yet of age to come to school? I would imagine that it will be most difficult when he finally does start his studies, but perhaps you will also find that there is some comfort in it, for unlike a complete stranger who reminds me of Michael, this child is actually a part of her, and as such, very precious.

I think one of the reasons that it nearly destroyed me when Caroline died was because not only was I losing the most precious thing in the world, my daughter, but I was also losing the only piece of Michael I had left. Having her near me cushioned the blow of Michael’s death to an extent and I did not even realize it. So perhaps it will not be so bad as you imagine.

I am sorry too to hear that you are personally acquainted with sort of trials I suffer with my father-in-law. I cannot help but fight the feeling that at times he is purposefully keeping me ensconced in my grief for my husband as a means of getting what he wants. Whenever I seem to find the strength to stand up to him and break out on my own, he always seems to bring something up that makes me feel just guilty enough about neglecting Michael’s life work, that I fold and stay. I suppose it is no one’s fault but my own, but it is still frustrating.

Today was a beautiful day. The snow is almost all gone and the hyacinth and crocuses are pushing up beautifully in the park. I was finally able to get out and paint; something I always miss during the winter months. I meant to paint flowers but of course ended up painting children, and all the children somehow managed to look like Caroline. Oh well, I suppose it is alright, healthy even. I’ve got to exorcise her little spirit out of my system somehow, though the thought that someday I might go even one hour without thinking about her is currently unthinkable to me.

I have noticed that I seem to be processing Michael’s death a little more fully these days. There actually are minutes, hours, and during one particularly busy phase, even a whole week where I did not sink down in despair at the loss. Caroline’s absence is still too fresh for this sort of reprieve however.

Well, look at how I have managed to waste your valuable time, yet again. My apologies.

Yours Truly,

Violet

15th April 1988

Violet,

Your letter arrived just in time to distract me from having to mark a pile of very mediocre essays, so I thank you. Your letters are never a waste of my time, so have no fear of that.

You mentioned painting. You paint? Fascinating. I would very much like to see a piece or two of your work if you are willing. I’ve not an artistic bone in my body, I fear, though I do write a little, especially when I am feeling rather indulgent of my own self pity. No doubt it is all utter rot, but what one does in private hurts no one but one’s self I suppose, and as you mention with your painting, perhaps there is some good in it, if it helps to exorcise some personal demons.

When I was a very young man there was a certain summer when I harbored delusions of musical greatness as well, but due to the fact that my voice was mediocre at best, my looks completely non-marketable and the chances that enough money might suddenly appear to purchase an instrument highly unlikely, it was a dream quickly, and wisely determined to be unrealistic. I fully blame the friend I mentioned in earlier letters, Lily, for her penchant for dancing to my old Black Sabbath LPs. It was enough to inspire any foolish young lad to try his hand at music.

You mentioned that there might be some benefit in Lily’s son coming to Hogwarts for his schooling, that I might find some comfort in seeing that small piece of him that is his mother. It is possible, though they say that the boy more closely resembles his father, which is, I suppose, a complimentary statement on a purely physical level, but I must admit to having had a very strong aversion to the man. Thus, to see a part of her staring back at me out of a miniature version of her husband will be, I imagine, most intolerable.

You asked about my mother. No, my mother was not muggle. She was from a very old wizarding family, but my father was muggle. I grew up with very little magic around the house, as my father forbade it, so it was always a relief to get back to school after the summer. So much magical repression cannot be healthy for any young person.

Spring has finally come here, as well it seems, though it was quite late in getting here. I was actually able to go out for a stroll without a cloak this afternoon. I most heartily agree that if one or the other of us should find ourselves on the opposite side of the Atlantic, then we should most definitely take a stroll together. I look forward to hearing more of your experiments.

Yours Truly,

Severus

05/10/88

Severus,

Your letter came just in time to cheer me up. I fear I’m coming down with a bit of a cold. Why is it that in the bleak dark of winter when everyone else is getting ill, I’m fine, but as soon as we get a little nice weather…? Well, at least it is warm enough to lounge about outdoors.

My cat Mathilda has taken up residence in my lap and I’ve a nice glass of lemonade beside me as well, and now that your letter has come to an end, I take up my pen to respond. I cannot tell you how very much I have come to look forward to your letters. I am embarrassed to admit that as soon as two weeks have passed, and I know that you have had enough time to receive my letter and send one back I race to the mailbox almost every day, eager to see what gift the postman may have brought me.

You asked me to include a sample of my painting, and so I have included a landscape and a self portrait. No doubt I have been a little too generous in my depiction of my own features, but I thought it about time that you at least have a vague idea of what I look like. Everyone says I resemble my father. My father was a dark, stern man, with angular features, and a perpetual look of deep concentration, and so you see that they are right. The fair skin and blue eyes I got from my mother. The landscape is the lake at the park near my home. It is one of my favorite spots and if you ever come here, I will have to show it to you.

You inquired after my experiments. The fermentation stage was complete in half the time and I was very careful to record all my results. I have included them with this letter, as well. They very closely paralleled your own. Unfortunately, due to the fact that my father-in-law is head of my department, he has finally seen fit to pull my funding, and so I find that I am unable to continue in the laboratory, and as my personal space is not equipped for something that requires that much exactitude, I have had to end the experiment for the time being. Miraculously, new funding has appeared from an anonymous donor, with the specification that it be used only to further Michael’s research. I’ve no doubt that Michael’s father has a hand in this.

I find that I feel more and more imprisoned in the life I lead here. I am anxious to break free, to be free of all my old connections and responsibilities. There is nothing left here for me but my work, and now even that has been taken from me. I am considering a move. California is a tad tempting, but I think a cultural change is needed as well. I have a cousin in Montreal, and he tells me that there is plenty of room for someone with my talents at the university there. Canada is therefore an option, but I also find that I am considering Britain.

When I sit down and add up all the pros and cons, I cannot help but admit that where Britain is concerned you are most certainly one of my stronger pros. The fact that you are already well ensconced in the midst of the research in which I now find myself so interested is a huge draw. Perhaps if I were closer more collaboration would be possible. Obviously you are quite busy during the school year, but at Christmas and in the summers, I would dearly love to have your contributions and involvement in the work. It is, after all, your theory.

I noticed that the school where you are employed is in Scotland. When school is not in session, do you also reside there, or is home located somewhere else? Do you have any pets? I’ve only Mathilda, but she is quite enough on her own. She has the tendency to unroll the toilet paper from the roll when left alone. I come home from work to find fluffy, white mountains of toilet tissue in the middle of the bathroom floor, and Mathilda staring up at me innocently with her amber eyes. She is, of course, by no means innocent, but she tries her best to appear so, bless her.

You know, as I sit here looking about me, at my garden, my cat, my books, my favorite green pen clutched in my hand, I realize that for all our correspondence over the last months we really do know very little about one another’s personal lives. And perhaps that is for the best really. Sometimes a formal, professional correspondence is all that is to be desired. Please let me know if these are your feelings. If they are, I will not waste your time by expanding your knowledge of the minutia of my life.

Well, no doubt I’ve again taken up too much of your time.

Yours Truly,

Violet

30th May 1988

Dear Violet,

I was very sorry to hear that you were feeling under the weather. There are many potions that can effectively shorten a cold. I find mineral salts in small doses, dissolved on the tongue, or in small amounts of water to be most effective. You might wish to try Phosphate of Iron at a dose of 0,28 mcg four times daily. It has always worked quite well for me.

You were quite right when you mentioned that we know very little about one’s personal tastes, hobbies, etc. I can find no objection with sharing these small details with you, though I’m sure you will find them most tedious. In answer to your question – no, I have no pets. As a child I did briefly harbor a desire for one, specifically a dog, but money was hard to come by, and a dog would have been just one more unnecessary mouth to feed. I rather think that a cat would find me an insufferable nuisance and I it, so I have never bothered. An owl might be a useful animal to have around, but there are plenty here at the school at my disposal, so I have never found the need.

When school is not in session, home is in Manchester. It is my mother’s old house, and in a rather poor neighborhood, but as I am really only there eight weeks out of the year, I can’t be bothered to let something else, and certainly not to pack up all the myriad of detritus that as piled up over the years. I fear I wouldn’t know where to begin.

I am not sure what other details you might be interested in. Please let me know, and I will be pleased to answer.

Thank-you so much for the results of your experiment which you included with your last letter. They were most encouraging, for to see the results repeated with a completely different practitioner only strengthened my conviction that there is indeed some hope for the theory.

I was also very pleased to receive the samples of your artwork. They now decorate the walls of my private rooms here at school, and it is nice after a long day of dealing with some very dense and trying students, to sit down with a nice cup of tea and have the eyes of a friend staring down at one. I would be more than pleased to receive any more samples you would care to send.

It was most encouraging to hear that you are considering immigrating here. You would, of course be most welcome in my laboratory at any time. It would be interesting to observe whether the presence of two practitioners with similar experiences might impact the results even more strongly than with the individual alone.

Please do not continue to feel as though you are wasting my time. Like you, I eagerly look forward to your letters. Oh, and please note that as of the end of June I will be returning home for the summer so all further correspondence should be sent to the following address until school begins again in September:

Severus Snape

6 Spinner’s End

Manchester

Greater Manchester

M90 3NL

Yours Truly,

Severus

06/30/88

Severus,

Forgive me for taking so long to respond. I find myself still under the weather. I did take your advice, in regard to the Ferrous Phosphate, but unfortunately it did not seem to have much impact. Strange, since I have used it in the past and it has worked. Needless to say, dragging myself to and from work of late seems to be taking all the energy I have left. I’ve taken a few days off though, and now find that I have the time to respond properly to your last letter.

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve applied to Britain’s Ministry of Magic for immigration, and I’ve already found a job with the Royal Academy of Alchemical Arts in London, and if all goes according to schedule, should be arriving there by the end of the summer. We must get together for tea before you have to return to Scotland for the school year. I do so wish to meet you face to face. It is hard to believe that all these months we have been corresponding and I do not even know the color of your eyes, your middle name, how you take your tea…

You asked, what I wished to know about you, well anything and everything, really. How old are you, what do you look like, what are your favorite foods, books, memories. Outside of work, what are your hobbies, your talents? As I mentioned above, how do you take your tea? Do you drink coffee, alcohol? Do you smoke? What is your favorite season, color; what was your favorite subject or subjects in school?

Oh dear, the list could go on and on, and it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t answer these questions myself, so here you go… You already know the color of my eyes. They are blue. My middle name is Anne. I take my tea black, though I drink coffee much more often, and I take it black as well. I am 30 years old this October 31st. Yes, I was born on Halloween. I suppose I was destined to become a witch!

I do have a bit of a penchant for Indian food, and I hear that you can find some very good Indian food in London if you know where to look, so I am looking forward to that. My favorite books? Hmm… Most of the books I read are work related, but there is a small American novel by a muggle author, Harper Lee, called “To Kill a Mockingbird”. I would have to say, that as a piece of fiction it is near perfection.

My favorite memory is of walking the beach early in the morning with my father in the summers, picking shells. The beach was completely abandoned so early in the morning, and he was a biologist, so he would pick each one up and tell me what sort of creature had once lived inside. It’s one of those moments that, simple as it is, just stands out. I was very close to my father, and I still miss him horribly sometimes. He passed away from heart failure when I was just sixteen. I remember desperately trying to use magic to bring him back, as he lay turning blue on our family room carpet. That is probably my worst memory.

Outside of work I paint mostly. I can play the piano a very little. I could never sit still long enough as a child to learn properly. I always preferred to be outside in the sunshine.

I don’t smoke, but I do drink, mostly on social occasions – certainly not to excess (well perhaps on occasion).

My favorite season is autumn. As I mentioned in a previous letter, New England is beautiful in autumn with all the oaks and maples turning flaming red and yellow. There is nothing quite like it. I also associate autumn with a return to school, which was one of my favorite places as a child.

My favorite color is green and my favorite subjects in muggle school were history and science, and at magical school were potions and history, once again.

Good heavens that was a lot of trivial information, wasn’t it! Well, I look forward to your reply!

Yours,

Violet

15th July 1988

Dear Violet,

It is hard to believe that in a few short weeks you will be taking up residence in London. You can not imagine how pleased I was to receive this news. We must of course meet for tea. When your exact date of arrival draws near, do let me know. I will come down and we can meet.

Trivial though it may be, I very much enjoyed reading all the little details of your life and person. I will do my best to reply to you in kind, though I fear that some of the details might run the risk of being a disappointment.

I am twenty-eight years old and will be twenty-nine this January. My parents were apparently not motivated enough to give me a middle name. My eyes are dark brown, if you must know. Some say they appear black in some light. My hair is black as well. Describing one’s self can be so tedious, so I will only say that I am admittedly not a very promising specimen, but when one is locked away in a classroom with children or in the laboratory with only herbs and retorts to keep you company it matters little, I suppose.

My favorite foods? I don’t usually give food much thought, though I do appreciate a good pudding now and again. I only drink alcohol on rare occasions and I do smoke, most likely more than is good for me.

My favorite memory is of my mother teaching me to brew as a child. She would always wait until she knew that my father would be out for the day, and then she would pull out her cauldron and all the herbs that she always told him were for cooking and we would begin. I was working out of her old “Advanced Potions” textbook when I was six. My worst memory is probably best left alone.

My hobbies and talents are sadly few. When I am not working or in the laboratory then I am either writing or reading, or as I mentioned in a previous letter, taking a stroll to clear my mind.

My favorite season is summer. Summers are mostly mild here in England, and it is much easier to get outside for a stroll in the balmy days of summer than in the icy cold of a Scottish winter. Summer also means eight whole weeks to myself, which almost makes up for a year spent with a bunch of insufferably dull students - almost.

My favorite color is green as well.

In muggle school my favorite subjects were English and History. In magical school it was Potions and History, just as with you.

I was actually pleasantly surprised at how much we have in common. I look very forward to visiting with you when you arrive in a few weeks.

Yours,

Severus

08/01/88

Dearest Severus,

Just a quick note to let you know that I will be arriving in London on August 15th. Should I just send you an owl? I assume you will be at home at Spinner’s End.

Things are mad with all the packing right now, and Michael’s father is furious I am leaving. I waited until the last possible moment to tell him, as I was afraid that his constant grousing might make me lose my courage, but you know, I don’t really care anymore. It feels so good to be getting out on my own, and having a bit of an adventure!

I thank you so very much for sharing all the little details of your life with me. I found them most enjoyable.

I long to see you, and am delighted that it will be soon. By the time you respond to this I will already be in London, so here is my new address:

Violet Brehm

15 Brenham Court

London

London

W1H 6BW

Please send all future correspondence there.

Yours,

Violet

9th August 1988

Dear Violet,

Yes, do send an owl to Spinner’s End and let me know where and when you wish to meet. I long to see you as well. I wish you the best of luck with your move. Of course, by the time you get this you will already be moved in.

Yours,

Severus

08/17/88

Professor S. Snape,

It is with deepest regrets that I must inform you that Professor Violet Brehm was taken violently ill and passed away unexpectedly two days ago. Your address was found among her personal effects, as well as the sealed letter enclosed.

Sincerely,

Edgar Brehm

Head of Alchemical Studies

New England School of Magical Studies

08/13/88

Dearest Severus,

I fear that I should have taken your very sage advice several months ago when you told me to take more care of my person. If you are reading this letter, than I am most likely already dead. If I have lived, I don’t know that I will have the courage to give this to you - at least not in the near future.

I want you to know that your friendship over the last months has been one of the dearest of my life, and it came at a time when I desperately needed it. Your companionship has helped me to forget, if even for a few moments at a time, a grief and loss that I thought would consume me.

It was such a joy to find someone whose interests and intellectual pursuits so closely matched my own. It breaks my heart to think that we will never meet. You’ve no idea how very much I was looking forward to it, to put a face and more importantly a voice to all the wonderful words that have flowed from your pen, was a thought that brought great joy.

I am so sorry that you must find out about what has happened to me this way. Please know that. It is so strange to know that the letter one is writing will be the last words that a dear friend will ever have, and it is horrible to discover that I am at a loss for words.

Just know that you were cared for - deeply, and that had I had the opportunity to meet you at last, I think…no, I know, that we might have formed a partnership that would have been not only highly compatible, but also greatly enjoyable to us both.

I will miss you my dear friend,

Violet