A/N: This is post-book 7 (I'm ignoring the epilogue entirely) so if you haven't finished the series, don't read this.

If you notice any spelling errors or anything, please let me know. I ran a check but have virtually no faith in the site that I used to run it. I tried to curb my tendency to make paragraph-length sentences...

Anyway, I hope you like this. I couldn't stand what J.K. did to Snape, so this is my attempt to patch up his fate.

Edit: upon re-reading this... it seems a lot of my ideas for this story are just sorta... reworked ideas from my favorite fic... Reading this one right after that one makes this painfully apparent, though I'd had no idea I'd done it when I wrote this, so please read my favorite fic 'cause it's awesome. It's called The Price of Magic by Ac1d6urn and Sinick. Um... Credit to them for all the similar ideas that I must have subconsciously taken from them (such as the bit about trying to move the newspapers and being more real in his sleep).

Chapter 1 - What Am I?

Harry watched, horrified, as his hated professor fell to the ground, blood gushing out of four deep holes in his neck. Harry knew Snape had killed Dumbledore, and he thought he wanted to kill him in revenge, but something about seeing the man fall seemed to tear at his insides and he jumped from his hiding place and reached out to him. There was nothing he could do. He took the dying man's last thoughts in a beaker and watched helplessly as the life left his eyes.

As he felt the last of his life leaving him, Severus Snape inhaled one final breath and prepared for whatever lay beyond death, but as the seconds ticked by, he realized that it wasn't going to come, or perhaps that this was it. He realized he had closed his eyes in anticipation. On opening them, he was surprised to find that his surroundings had changed. As if he'd gone blind, or had forgotten how to work his eyelids, everything around him was an impenetrable blackness. He tried to feel around him but found that either there was nothing, or he couldn't feel. It was hard to tell which, really. After a moment of undeterminable length, he realized voices were talking somewhere nearby. He tried to call out but couldn't... Then he heard a bit of what the voices were saying.

"Harry look. It's your mum."

"... Looks like the missing bit from Sirius' room," came a hoarse reply.

"Why'd that old git have it?"

At first when he heard this, he spun around wildly looking for Lily and the source of the voices. Those voices that had so irked him for the past 7 years. After a moment, though, he realized that the voices were directed to him, or at him. Confused beyond the point of being able to guess what was happening to him, he sat there, or maybe he was standing, trying to hear what was going on around him, but the voices had become muffled and distant as if being heard through a heavy fog. He momentarily had the impression that he was floating or soaring through the air, and then the darkness, if possible, became darker, heavier, and the sounds around him were muffled completely.

After putting the little scrap of photo into the bag around his neck, and with one last pitying glance to the dead man on the floor, Harry nodded to Ron and Hermione, and they raced off towards Hogwarts Castle, where Harry proceeded to the headmaster's office at once to see Snape's last thoughts.

--

Several days after the fall of Voldemort, though it could have been years to the imprisoned ex-Potions Master in the silent infinite blackness, there was suddenly a scraping noise that, to someone who had sat in silence for days, sounded like a building was collapsing above him, though it may have been no louder than rustling leaves.

Harry leaned back in a chair in the small room that was his new temporary residence, reflecting on all that had happened recently. He inevitably thought back to all the people who had lost their lives in the last battle of the war with Voldemort, and to his parents. He dug around in the bag hanging from his neck until he managed to extract the little scrap of photo. Looking at it absently, he couldn't help thinking back to a small stone on a ring that had been dropped in the forest. If only there was some way he could bring her back... bring all of them back...

And then suddenly he felt another presence in the room, and as he looked up he found himself staring face to face with someone who hadn't been there a moment before. Having had so much experience with a certain dark wizard suddenly popping out of objects, he instinctively jumped up from the chair he'd been reclining in and grabbed his wand, looking around frantically for the sword of Gryffindor, before his eyes focused on the transparent shape in front of him and he recognized his old Potions professor.

"You... why... how...?" Harry stared, bewildered, as Severus Snape crouched and shielded himself from the brightness as if the sun would turn him to stone. He looked around, squinting in the light, despite the fact that it was twilight out and getting quite dark by normal standards. He looked terrible, not to mention the fact that he was somewhat transparent, but he was really there standing in front of Harry with a confused expression on his face. Snape looked down at his hands, surprised to see that they were there, though they were somewhat not there as well... He gave himself a mental checkup and decided he didn't seem to be a ghost, though he seemed able to go through walls, and not able to touch anything. He looked questioningly at Harry, who shrugged back at him, wide-eyed.

Though he didn't know quite what was going on, Harry was intensely relieved to see his old Potions Master materialized in his room. His death had bothered Harry even when he'd thought them mortal enemies, and once Harry had found that they were, in fact, on the same side after all, the man's death had frankly haunted him. Of all the friends he'd lost during the last encounter with Voldemort, this death, somehow, had been the worst for him. He supposed it was because he had seen it first hand, and it had been that wretched snake of all things... And such an unfair death... He shook himself out of his thoughts, and just looked at his old professor, wondering what was to happen next.

"What am I?" Snape asked questioningly.

"...horcrux," was all Harry was able to say.

He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that it was right. Thinking about it afterwards, it did seem to fit. Somehow, Professor Snape had made a horcrux out of the scrap of Lily's photo, it seemed. Harry was sure he had done it unknowingly, by accident, just as Voldemort had accidentally made a horcrux out of Harry. How, though, could a complete, stable soul just accidentally split apart? That part he couldn't quite understand, but then a scene from in the pensieve flashed before Harry's mind, of Snape slumped in a chair, haggard and worn, and howling like a wounded animal. He supposed that had done it. Hearing of Lily's death must have torn Snape's soul in two. For a pain to be that intense that your soul would break... Harry looked at Professor Snape in morbid awe, realizing that his own lifetime of suffering could not compare to what this man had been through -had put himself through.

Snape seemed to be coming to similar conclusions, because he shrugged in shocked understanding. Realizing that he would be unable to live, yet unable to die, he gave an involuntary shudder. There were only two ways out from here. He imagined he could possess someone and take over their body, stooping to Voldemort's level, condemning himself to hell for all eternity (though he supposed he was going there anyway), or he could ask Harry to destroy the horcrux. The first was unthinkable. He may have loved Dark Magic, but he loved it for the magic itself, not for the harm it did to people when used against them. The latter sounded like a possibility, though the boy no longer had his sword, and Snape couldn't bring himself to let harm come to the scrap of photo. That photo had been his anchor, keeping him focused and enabling him to do what needed to be done after Dumbledore was no longer there to guide him. He supposed that was how he'd managed to leave half his soul behind in the thing.

Of all the places to have ended up, though, he had to have appeared in front of the Potter boy! Little did he know that it was his excellent fortune that he had ended up here. Only a close emotional bond with a horcrux object can allow the soul to take shape and emerge from the object. He and Harry Potter both had strong feelings for Lily, though they were of a very different nature, and both wished wholeheartedly that she was alive. Those feelings coursing through Harry as he looked at his mother's photo must have been what allowed the professor to emerge from his dark prison. Somehow he knew or felt this to be the case, though, despite not knowing a whole lot about horcruxes, and he resolved to not piss the boy off past his limit, for fear of being stuck in that dark prison for all eternity.

The apparition was feeling distinctly overwhelmed with the host of odd circumstances that allowed him to be still... well, not living, but not dead. His head was feeling uncharacteristically dense, like his thoughts were swirling through something thick before making it to their destination. He looked to the boy hoping he would, on the other hand, be feeling uncharacteristically bright.

"So. What happens now?" was all he could think to ask.

"I... I don't know. But I don't think I can take you out in public. You are a Dark Object now. I think that-"

"So I am to remain in that photo until you need help brewing a potion?" Snape hissed, his voice like ice. Despite his transparency and current inability to affect objects of this world, he was still quite intimidating. Harry was, of course, used to this treatment from the man, and just shrugged and shook his head.

"Not at all. But I think I will be the only company you'll get, until we can think of a way to get you out of there," he gave a sideways glance at the dangerous professor, "unless you'd prefer to stay in there than come talk to me."

Snape scowled at him and growled out, "As much as I'd like to avoid your company, if I remain in that black oblivion I will lose my mind before you ever think of a way to get me out of that thing. For that matter, your focus and attention is abysmally lacking, and if I don't keep you on it, I'll likely be in there forever. Be assured that I will haunt you until you find a solution to this problem."

Harry just looked at the man before him, biting his lip to avoid laughing at the absurdity of it all. He was being threatened by little more than a ghost, and one that had recently shown him his deepest guarded thoughts, at that. Somehow, Harry had thought that Snape would act differently towards him, after he had shared such thoughts with Harry in the pensieve. He found, however, that the return of some of Snape's sarcastic and sneering attitude was actually a relief to him. He felt like part of what had been lost during Voldemort's last attack was returning to him in stages.

"I don't suppose I can offer you a drink or something?" Harry asked, not really knowing if horcruxes could drink, though thinking probably not as he couldn't pick up a glass. Just then, however, his door opened and a beaming boy with light shining hair came bounding into the room. Snape instantly melted into a wall. The boy looked a couple years younger than Harry, and was carrying a plate of food and a glass of butterbeer, which he set on the dresser.

"Room service," the boy announced happily. Harry hadn't ordered any room service. He stood there beaming at Harry, who shrugged at him wearily.

"Thanks," Harry said, hoping the boy would leave, but he just stood there beaming at him. Oh fine, Harry thought. He gave the boy a quick hug and the boy bowed and skipped out of the room.

Harry sat down heavily on his bed and shook his head, muttering "Fanboys..."

Snape reappeared from the wall he had sunk into with an odd smirk on his face. Harry supposed he'd found that encounter highly interesting, adding fuel for future sarcastic and biting remarks. He found that he didn't really care all that much. Snape was on his side. He didn't have to sit through potions classes any more. Nothing he could say would get to him. He ate his food quickly, realizing that he had actually been quite hungry. The shock of the evening had sapped his energy and he found he was also immensely tired. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Severus Snape sat there watching Harry sleep for a time, still with an odd expression on his face. There was no way he'd go back in that photo before he was forced to. He was trying to think of good ways to mock Harry for having fan boys, but couldn't think of anything that was appropriate. He had to be careful not to piss the boy off too much or he'd never get out of the photo. He had to find his limit. He was still trying to think of something, not really knowing how far was too far, when he started to drift off to sleep himself. He noticed with some amusement as he was nodding off, that sleeping horcruxes float.

--

Harry woke the next morning and stretched out, enjoying the feel of the morning sun on his face. Reluctantly he opened his eyes, and was startled to find Severus Snape's foot floating about 10 inches above and to his left. The floating, sleeping figure seemed more solid than the day before, and was being blown around, as if weightless, by a nonexistent wind. His head bumped repeatedly into the wall as the wind caused him to drift this way and that. Harry was strongly reminded of the unfelt whispering wind behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries.

He was used to strange and seemingly unexplainable things happening around him, so he just shrugged at this floating, drifting effect, but he was rather curious about the fact that the man's head kept bumping into a wall that should have been quite insubstantial to him. Harry decided to try an experiment. Picking up his pillow, Harry chucked it at Snape's head. It should have fallen through harmlessly, and it sank about an inch into the man as if it were going to do just that, but then seemed to change it's mind and struck him, sticking for a moment partway through him. Snape's eyes popped open, and the pillow fell through immediately to the floor. Interesting...

Snape glared dangerously at Harry for the rest of the morning. Harry had explained, of course, and although Snape's eyes had flashed with something that looked like curiosity, he quickly covered that up with his customary glare of hatred. They resorted to ignoring each other's presence. At exactly 10 AM there was a knock at the door. Another young man, this time with long black hair, entered the room, mumbled "room service", and set a tray of food and some tea down on the dresser. He was glancing up at Harry with his head down, long hair hiding half his face, which was bright red. He gave an awkward bow and scurried out of the room.

Snape raised his eyebrows. He hadn't hidden this time, but the boy hadn't even noticed his presence anyway. Despite his strong dislike for everything Harry, he couldn't help but be a little curious about what was going on, since he didn't have potions or books to distract himself with.

Harry gave a long sigh and plopped down on his bed. Looking at him more closely, he realized Harry couldn't have been sleeping well, or doing well in general for that matter. He had dark shadows under his eyes and looked as if he had been not really living, but just going through the motions for quite some time.

Harry noticed him looking and pointed at a couple of unrolled Daily Prophets on the desk. The first was dated the day after the painful event with the snake. The other was the day after that. Snape suddenly became aware that he hadn't so much as asked what had happened with Lord Voldemort, and that, now that he thought about it, he was rather surprised that Harry was alive. He looked at the newspaper where it lay on the desk, hoping to get his answer from it and avoid having another conversation with his hated rival's currently gloomy son.

The heading on the first newspaper was written in bold text that changed colors and had fireworks continually going off behind it. It read "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Is Dead At Last!" The header was so large there wasn't much room for anything else on the page, but it did mention that there were many casualties, and that Harry had been seen among the mourners. Nothing about how Voldemort had died or who had done it could be found anywhere.

He was, of course, incapable of turning pages, so he looked over to the next newspaper. It had a large picture of Harry on it looking miserable and defeated. Many caskets lay before him. The one on which he was leaning bore the name "Severus Snape". The headline on this one read "Harry Potter's Shocking Secret" The article went something like this:

Recent tragic events have brought to light
a dark secret about the one and only boy who
lived. Huddled around the caskets of the
unfortunate victims of the last battle with
You-Know-Who, friends and family mourned
together in solemn silence. One boy stood
apart from the rest. The only mourner and
possibly only one who noticed the death of
Headmaster Severus Snape. The boy had, only
a year previously, accused the man of
murdering previous headmaster, Albus Dumbledore
in cold blood. Now, when asked, his only
response is a tear-filled shake of the head
and a whispered admission "he's innocent."
Onlookers glance in his direction and point,
whispering behind their hands, undoubtedly
questioning the sexuality of their boy hero. It
appears that the Boy Who Lived had been able
to cope with the deaths of some close friends
but not of this man who he, if eyewitnesses
count for anything, hated. What does this
mean? Could the Boy Who Lived have been
harboring a secret scandalous crush for
one of his professors? Find out what people
are saying on page 5.

"The first page is not so bad," the boy muttered, "It's in the quotes that she really embellishes. For once no one seems to be listening to her, though. The only people who seem to believe her are those who wanted it to be true in the first place. Those are the people who keep appearing around me, following me everywhere, giving me things. Telling them off is exhausting. They all look so hopeful."

There was a long silence and then he seemed to feel he should go on, "I just... felt so bad... It's true I had wanted you dead when I thought you were a murderer, but even then I wouldn't want what I thought... eternal torture is harsh even for Voldemort, and you hadn't really been that bad in the first place and... it just got to me, that's all. And that horrid Skeeter-woman went reading things that weren't there..." he plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes, draping an arm over his face to block the sunlight.

"Eternal torture? I have never feared death, Potter, what are you talking about?"

"Well, I imagined you would be just sitting there watching my parents snogging every day for the rest of eternity. Your life's been shit, you ought to be able to rest in peace at least."

What little color Snape's face had drained from it. He hadn't thought of that. He silently thanked... whoever... for having thus-far escaped that fate. Eyeing Harry's untouched food, a flash of worry crossed his face. Then it was gone, and no one had noticed. He glared at the boy lying listlessly on the bed and spat out "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. You don't have the guts to even leave this room and face them, do you?"

Harry glared at him from under his arm. His eyes looked somehow dead. "I don't feel great, okay. No thanks to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it." Harry rolled over and slept the rest of the day.

Having nothing better to do, Snape tried again and again to pick up the newspapers. He remembered that he could touch things in his sleep, and tried to put himself in a very relaxed state, though this was not something that came natural to him, and he highly doubted that he was ever in a relaxed state, even in sleep. After several unsuccessful attempts, he put his head down on the desk. It sort of floated over the desktop, but as he started to drift to sleep, it sunk down and rested on the desk's surface. He tried to hold that semi-awake state for as long as he could, but as he started to feel himself waking up and floating up again, he gave up and let himself sleep. Locked up in that room with the boy was barely better than being stuck in the photo, he thought bitterly.

The next day there was no longer any doubt that Harry was unwell. He looked gray and sickly, like something that had been found floating dead in a river. He stared up, unseeing, at the ceiling. Although he couldn't stand the boy, Snape didn't want to watch him die. Not to mention the fact that he would have no chance of leaving the photo without Harry. Also, if he were the type that could feel emotions, he would have been touched that Harry had cared about his death.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to carry the boy... somewhere. He thought if he had access to his old dungeon he may be able to do something... Or better yet, access to the school nurse. He was sure it would be safe for him to show up there. He was never exactly liked by the staff but Harry had been published in the newspaper stating his innocence, so he likely would be able to manage it. ...If he were able to pick the boy up, that is.

He tried his best to get into the same half-sleep state he had been in the day before. By mid-afternoon, after many failed attempts, he scooped the boy up into his arms. He stared, a bit shocked, but it seemed to have worked. Now he had to concentrate on not dropping him. It occurred to him then, that he didn't even know where they were. He looked down to ask, but Harry's eyes had rolled up in his head. Thinking fast, he grabbed Harry's invisibility cloak. He threw it over them both and walked out as quickly as he dared, while keeping a fair amount of concentration on remaining solid. He didn't dare risk apparating, and didn't expect that he'd be able to as a ... whatever he was, anyway.

Thinking of no other options, he tried holding out Harry's wand. The Knight Bus appeared with a crack. Snape slipped onto the bus without a sound, carrying Harry to the seat right behind the driver. Ern' was the only employee on the bus these days, and he looked around for a witch or wizard hoping to get on the bus, but when he didn't see any, he just shrugged and started again on his way. After they had been driving for a few moments, Snape said "Stop at Hogwarts."

Ern' looked in his back mirror and didn't see anyone where he had heard the voice, but there were alot of people on the bus. He assumed he just hadn't looked up quickly enough. After about a half an hour the bus stopped at Hogwarts' front gate. The door slid open and Snape sneaked out, leaving Ern' rather confused, but Ern' wasn't terribly bright, so he just shrugged it off as something he didn't understand, and drove on.

Snape stalked up to the school with long strides. Harry's invisibility cloak billowed out behind him like his own cloak usually did, causing his semi-transparent legs to stick out of the cloak every time he took a step forward. It was dusk by now and the sky was dark gray and ominous. A cold wind was blowing up the corridors through the school. Castles never were the warmest of places. He arrived at the hospital wing without incident, and took off the invisibility cloak. He put Harry on a hospital bed and suddenly realized that he wouldn't have been able to carry him a moment longer. He supposed he'd only been able to carry him because he was too distracted to notice how difficult it was.

He looked around the office but the nurse was nowhere in sight. Thinking he might be able to do some good himself, Snape tried to pick up a towel and found that he absolutely couldn't. He tried to go collect one of the other teachers but found that he couldn't do that either. Every time he tried to walk away from Harry, he could get only about 15 feet before getting sucked back into the photo. It was, after all, only Harry's similar feelings towards the scrap of photo that allowed him to come out at all.

Looking at his predicament, he came across a painting with a dumpy looking knight sleeping in it. He thought the knight was from one of the paintings in the hallway below the divination tower, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't been in that part of the castle since he had been a student. Snape scowled at the painting and gathered just enough concentration and... whatever it was... to nudge the painting.

Sir Cadogan the knight woke up with a clanking and screeching of rusted metal. "Who goes there?!" the knight asked, trying to push himself up with his sword, which sunk into the grass.

"Listen," Snape started, "this is urgent and very important. I need you to go get Dumbledore from the wall in the headmaster's office. Wake him up if you have to. Just get him here now."

"A quest? A quest!" the knight saluted and ran off, clanking and rattling all the way.

Fifteen minutes later, Dumbledore appeared in the painting in the hall, to find the ex-Professor Snape pacing nervously up and down the hall. Despite the fact that he was a painting, he hadn't lost any of his ability to guess or somehow know everything that was going on in his school. Moments later, wrapping a bathrobe around her nightgown, Minerva Mcgonnagal appeared, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey. They both gasped and clutched their chests as if they were having heart attacks from shock at seeing Snape back amongst them.

"I believe you will find mister Potter in need of assistance behind those doors, if you don't mind." Dumbledore-portrait motioned to the door across the hallway, and the two women rushed in.

"It's great to see you, Severus. Come. Sit. We need to talk." Dumbledore waved his wand and a painted table and set of chairs appeared on the painted grassy field.

Severus blinked at the painting, and reached a hand out to it. The next thing he knew he was standing in front of the painted table, which suddenly looked very real. The world across the hall, on the other hand, had taken on a serene brushed sort of look. He sat down at the table and told Dumbledore all that he knew about what had happened since he came out of the photo. Dumbledore nodded, with his fingers pressed together in thought in front of him. He was watching Severus with an amused glint in his eye. When he was done with the story, Dumbledore chuckled at him.

"You know, you're stuck with him. You've avoided a miserable afterlife, for now, as Mr. Potter has pointed out to you, but you are unable to keep your distance from him, as would have been best for you both. I do hope you have learned to get along. If you still feel as you have in the past towards each other, forgive me but I wonder if you are truly better off than you would have been if..."

"Potter and I have not had a chance to kill each other yet. I do not doubt that it will happen, but so far we have... survived. Neither of us is particularly anxious to start up a conversation, so we have managed."

"So you ignore and avoid the only person you have been able to talk to? Considering that you can not do things on your own any more, I find that to be rather sad. It is all I can expect, though, I imagine."

"I can do things on my own, though. I carried the boy all the way here. My ability to interact with the real world is improving greatly by the hour, it seems."

"Ah, about that," Dumbledore said, looking worried, "you will need to stop eating Harry's soul at once, or the boy will surely die."

"I... what?"

"I trust you remember the time Ms. Ginny Weasley almost died in the Chamber of Secrets at the hands of Tom Riddle's diary?"

Snape nodded slowly.

"You are doing the same thing to Harry that Riddle was doing to Ms. Weasley." He smiled as he saw the horrified disgust in Snape's eyes, something that only someone who knew him very well would recognize, and added "Maybe not intentionally, but you are still doing it. For now, I think it best that you retreat to your photo and allow Harry time to recouperate."

Without another word, Snape turned and vanished. He'd protected Lily's son on her behalf for so long, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to kill him. Especially not now that he needed him in order to get out of the photo. If he was honest with himself, he might have noticed that he truly didn't mind the boy's company anymore. Harry really didn't remind him too much of James any more, despite their similar appearance. He was alot more like Lily. Dumbledore had been right about that one. He was never one to be in touch with his feelings, however, so this all went unnoticed by the very person who was thinking it. No wonder he had such a bad sense of time when he was in the photo-prison. He couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking for longer than about 3 minutes. It was just so dark. And quiet. and empty.

--

After about 2 days, Harry finally opened his eyes. He found that he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. How did he get here? He looked around, suddenly fearful. What had happened to Snape? Had he been found? Had his horcrux been destroyed? As he wondered, he saw the scrap of photo glowing faintly on the bedside table, and Snape emerged from it moments later. Harry sighed in relief, then jumped in his bed as he saw the outline of a flowering vine glowing faintly green and twisting up from his wrist towards his elbow on his left arm.

"Ah. That. I believe Albus will be wanting to speak with you about that," Snape said icily. "He seems to think you need precautions against me." Glancing with slight surprise at the green thing snaking up Harry's arm, he added, "How very Slytherin."

Harry just stared, confused. He felt drawn to the thin glowing outline on his left arm. Presently, the flowers began to bloom. They were a deep burgundy red with golden stamen. Lilies. He touched one of the blooming flowers with his other hand and felt a hot flash in his arm and the fingers that had touched it, and then the glowing outline was gone, and his arm looked just as it always had. He looked up questioningly, but Snape had vanished.

Moments later, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in with an antiqued picture frame. By this time, Harry was very confused. He didn't have a clue how he'd gotten there, why he was there, what that thing on his arm was, or what to expect next. The picture frame was set on a chair next to his bed, and he recognized it as the painting that normally was occupied by Albus Dumbledore in the headmaster's office. He had seen it in Snape's memories. Moments later, Dumbledore appeared in it, and waved kindly at Harry, who was looking at him with confused surprise on his face.

"Hello, Harry. I do hope all is well"

"Yeah, well, it's ok I guess. How did I get here?"

"Severus brought you."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You... he... showed himself? That idiot. How did he manage to bring me? You're not going to ask me to destroy it, are you? I won't."

"Calm down, Harry, it's alright. Although I do suggest you keep what he actually is a secret from the general public. I believe that with some amount of practice, he will be able to take just enough of your energy to look solid, without actually being solid. Then he will be able to venture out in public with you. If he remains unable to interact physically with the real world, that should leave you with enough of yourself to not get sick again."

A sudden understanding dawned on the boy's face. "You're saying...he was... like with Ginny?" Harry had thought of the possibility, but had assumed he just didn't really know what was happening to himself.

"Yes, I'm afraid he was," sighed Dumbledore, "though he didn't know it or intend it. He has been told and will attempt to stop it from happening in the future, however, if he ever takes too much of you again, and you begin to feel weak or ill, I urge you to press your first two fingers against your left arm. That will recall your entire soul to your body. I think it will force him into the photo for a time, but will stop any more serious problems from occurring."

"Oh. What spell was that? That glowing vine thing?"

Dumbledore's painted eyes twinkled behind his painted glasses. "I see you must have already tested it out. Marvelous, it seems to have worked. A vine, hm? There was once an exceptional healer who had a son with multiple personalities. I am sure that you are familiar with that illness from the muggle world. In our world, it is a treatable problem, thanks to that healer. It never goes away, but life can go on, much like it can for werewolves. They must always deal with their problem, but it can be controlled. This healer came up with 2 spells. Quite ingenious if I do say so myself. One of the spells forced all but the dominant personality out of the affected person. When someone has multiple personalities, it is due to multiple underdeveloped souls taking up residence in one body. In effect, he devised a way to banish all but the main soul from the body. The main soul in someone with multiple personalities is also under-developed, however, so it can only handle being alone for a short time. This other spell, the one which I used on you, was devised to call the other souls back. While the other souls were away, or in your case, while part of the soul is being used, the arm would glow with a pattern and color that reflected the soul or souls of the individual affected. When the person would begin to feel weak, they would press their first two fingers of the opposite hand to the glowing mark, and the other souls would instantly be returned to them. It is quite lucky that it worked, as no one has actually developed a magic intended to allow someone to live with a horcrux. But Harry, you most certainly will be living with him, and close, for as long as you live and the horcrux survives. Are you willing to do that?"

Harry blinked, trying to take it all in. His soul was a flowering vine? Odd... Living with Snape wasn't his idea of a good time, but he had expected it, and even though the guy was still a greasy miserable old git, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep respect for him after having seen his true self in the pensieve.

"I don't like it, but I'll do it. For all the suffering I've been through, I think his is actually worse. We don't get along, but I can't hate him anymore. We won't kill each other. If I can lessen his misery by keeping him from a worse fate, I owe him that much. He's saved me so many times."

"I see," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Well then-"

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was just thinking... Wondering if maybe... The ring of Gaunt... Do you think... if I used it on someone who was already in a state of half-life, would it bring him back the rest of the way, or would it have no effect?"

--

- To be continued -

Cliff hangerish, ne? I hope so. Anyway, let me know what you think. I have about this much more planned for this story, so I guess it will be 2 or 3 chapters by the time it's done.

I made a pic to go with this chapter, but it won't let me link it. I'm cattilee on DA and catti on cattileedotcom if interested.