2 – Returned to the world

I open at the close

By tearsofphoenix

Standard disclaimer applies – it's all JKR's

Many, many thanks to Whitehound, who always helps with friendly editing of the language, sharing ideas, and support during the difficult moments.

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2 – Returned to the world

What should have been the main purpose, now that it was all over, for three young people who had spent so many months hiding in the woods, fighting for their survival, without any of the comforts that they had been accustomed to? Surely not this, not this present series of saddening, tiring repairs that they were still working through.

"And they lived happily ever after…" Growing up meant knowing that behind the end of an adventure, beneath the surface appearance, there was more than a simple sentence like that, and he knew it. But despite all this abstract reasoning, that seemed so wise, Ronald Weasley couldn't help but feel that at the end of the day he had been ripped off. That's why, when he eventually met Hermione in the Great Hall, so excited and eager to communicate about the news from the Hospital Wing, he couldn't help but sneer maliciously; and even if he knew how his reaction would have wounded her spirit, he was himself so in need of attention that he didn't give a damn about that.

Hermione remembered the way another girl hadn't been able to forgive a friend for a moment of frustration, and tried to understand without reacting. She addressed herself to Harry and told him of the first little response from Snape's body, and then, without rows, nor further comments, she began to eat, eager to return again to her precious place.

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He was partially reclining, almost sitting with his back propped up with pillows, while Poppy Pomfrey, beaming excitedly, was moving from the left side to the right side of the bed, brandishing her wand to cast revealing spells.

"Stop this fussing, Madam!" Snape managed to croak, with an acceptable tone of voice, considering how much time it had not been used. The mediwitch halted for a moment, only to pour some water in a glass, and to put it to his lips.

He swallowed, grateful, and tried again, more effectively: "You'll have to take care of a bad headache, if you will not sit this instant" he intimated, growling. This time she complied and, when she did what he had requested, he couldn't stop himself asking: "It's over?"

"Yes, Severus, it is. And we won" she said, glowing.

So the voices weren't lying.

"When can I leave this place?"

"And what exactly do you want to leave?" asked a third voice, unexpected. "The bed? The school? The castle?" Minerva's smiling appearance had spared Poppy the necessity of answering, and the mediwitch, heading off, discreetly allowed them the possibility of a clarifying encounter.

"Welcome back, Severus" she began. Then, without allowing herself the luxury of delay: "I will not ask your forgiveness for what I said, and did, during our last meeting, Headmaster Snape. I, however, bow before your acting skills. You fooled me, and everyone, and I couldn't have done differently," she ended, while a slight flush of shame was colouring her cheeks. "But from the heart I say that I'm sorry, though, for everything you had to endure, and it is wonderful to see you among us again."

He had waited until the end of her speech before replying, and he did so, after a few awkward moments, watching her sadly: "There is nothing to forgive, Minerva, except that yours was the last of a long series of meetings where what I met was the distrust which confirmed that I had always been living a lie, always acting. Not that knowing it made it less painful, you understand."

The witch was deeply touched by this admission, made by a man who had always concealed his true emotions, but, showing the helpful sensibility that she had many times used to face the most difficult moments in her life, she continued, sighing: "In answer to your previous question, Severus, you can leave whenever you want, once Poppy has given her permission. Harry's words during his last duel with You Know… with Voldemort, have been heard by everyone and aired all over our world through the Prophet. You are a hero, and a very romantic one, I must say," she ended, a hint of impishness in her voice.

Seeing his expression, sarcastic at this last assurance and dubious about whether to believe her at all, she left him no time to reply before delivering her last blow: "You are free, Severus, as you haven't been in almost a lifetime. But I'd like to know that you'll decide to stay. This is your home, if you want, as it always will be".

Then, without waiting for an answer, because she was sure that he wasn't yet ready to give one, she gave him a light touch in farewell, and left Poppy to resume her duties.

After another quarter of an hour, spent listening to the matron enumerating all the details of his therapy, Snape was quite assured about his recovery and safety, if not of his satisfaction. He needed to know more than the little he had been told by those two old women, and the moment at which he could be left alone couldn't arrive soon enough, at this point.

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The news about Snape's awakening hadn't yet spread around, but Hermione directed herself towards the infirmary hurriedly, wishing to see as soon as she could if, in her absence, the earlier moments of hope had been followed by further ones.

When she halted, stunned, then, it was immediately noticed and, for a few instants, the whole scene was frozen. Then, without thinking, unable to restrain herself, she approached.

"Professor!"

- and her voice was so full of wonder, joy, and hope that he couldn't answer with the words which had come to his mouth at the unexpected sight of this particular former student of his. He was speechless, and she was becoming shy, now, while his expectant and challenging expression wasn't helping, being so different from that dismissive and forbidding one to which she was accustomed.

But she had to say her praise of him, before flying from the room and before he regained his usual self completely: "You have been so brave, Professor! You have sacrificed everything for this victory, and we are so happy to see that you are still with us! You deserve a long life, and every good on earth" she blurted out, blushing.

Again, he didn't succeed in beating back her words.

Severus didn't know what was happening. But her voice, more than any other he had heard, seemed to have rooted in his mind, because he felt warmed again, and almost well. The faint reminiscent hint of a smile was at first his only answer, and it remained so because suddenly Madam Pomfrey resumed her role, breaking the tension and cutting off further speech by continuing to explain, in the presence of the younger witch as well as her patient, the diagnosis and the healing she had done since his awakening.

"There," she concluded, "in a couple of days you will be able to leave your bed, I think. I am very proud of you, Severus. As for you, Miss Granger: it is time for a true rest, so I don't want to see you until tomorrow!" she added, with the solicitude of one who knew that someone had to play the ruling role, it having been temporarily abandoned by the most skilled people ever known for the job.

"I'll be back tomorrow" whispered the girl, already half-turned on her heel, and in a moment she was gone.

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He still wasn't sure as to his own state of consciousness. He had confused memories of the recent past, and not one of them made sense.

There was his meeting with the Dark lord, and then the agonizing ache of the snake's bite. He also remembered having been able to give the Boy the knowledge he needed, and the relief that he had felt looking at him.

Afterwards everything was foggy: he had been blind to the world, perceiving only the sound of those clamant voices and perhaps that dizziness had been an effect of all the missing memories, the long-ago and the most recent ones.

Severus Snape didn't like that sensation; he knew that it wasn't usual for him to be a stranger to himself, nor to his surroundings. Of this, at least, he was certain: he had always been very careful to gain knowledge and control, never allowing himself the freedom of a reckless life.

All right, this wariness of his hadn't helped to prevent the events of his most dangerous last meeting, but that didn't count, since it had been his decision to endure that last sacrifice which had made the difference.

And, thus, he was again at the start of his wonderings: how had it been possible to stay alive, after that, and what was left of him, now; what had been lost and what would be achieved?

Like an answer to his questions, or at least like a diversion from his wonderings, right that moment the Granger girl showed herself at the foot of the bed, an unconcealed trepidation brightening her eyes. He hadn't heard her approach, damn, and it was another sign of the weakness of his perception, which unnerved and flustered him.

"Good morning, Professor" she began tentatively, addressing him like that because he would always be her professor, his awful year as Headmaster being something that she hadn't shared and that, perhaps, he didn't wish to remember.

"Have you gained the job of mediwitch's assistant, as a reward for your war efforts, Miss Granger?" he managed to answer, avoiding the obvious opening to correct or question her as to his current status, which was no longer that of a teacher but what else it was, he himself didn't know – reformed Death Eater? sacked Headmaster? - and trying to reject the mollifying feeling that her voice evoked in him.

Flinching slightly she went on, brushing off his taunt: "I wished to see if everything was going all right, Sir. And to ask you if you would like to see other people who wish to give you their thanks. But," she concluded hurriedly, "I'm very happy to see that you have regained your health, and if you don't like the idea I'll tell them that they should ask later". She lifted her hand, as if to touch him slightly in saying her goodbyes, then let it fall, absently, and began to leave.

The room was silent, Poppy was attending to her duties and, unfortunately, he hadn't been able to elicit from her more than the most basic news, about his rescue and about the end of the war. Perhaps, from the girl who knew all, he could obtain more.

And so he called: "Wait."

She stopped.

"Please."

She turned.

"I'd like to know if you could manage a detailed story of the recent events, Miss Granger," he went on. "Nobody here seems able to do it properly."

Acknowledging the opening, and sitting again in the chair where she had sit all those previous days, she began.

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"We had to run, Professor" she almost cried, after her tale had reached the moment of Snape's apparent demise. "Voldemort's dare began immediately after we collected your memories… and you were so still, and…" she couldn't continue. He had asked for a precise account, but to think again on those actions was unbearable, and she didn't know how to explain the things that only Harry, alone, had done or witnessed, and above all, she didn't want him to compare the difference in conduct between his delayed rescue and the timely one of Arthur Weasley, two years ago.

"The three of you are barely of age, Miss Granger, don't burden yourself with blame for every fault" he commented, amazing himself with the almost detached way in which he was hearing her words.

"Yes, well, perhaps" she babbled, and resumed the tale of the last battle and of the deeds of Neville, of Molly Weasley - even of Trelawney, whose actions brought a very needed light moment to the account.

The final duel, and the way his role had been revealed out loud during the fatal confrontation, when she reached that deadly part of her report, left Severus feeling exposed and his features darkened. Hermione stopped. And breathed. Then: "Sir, if you would allow me to call in Harry to continue… he wants so much to speak with you, and he is so sorry that he couldn't do it earlier!"

The satisfaction of knowing that he had been essential to the victory, and that he had been able to do what he had to do until the very end were making him less troubled than he would have expected to be, after all that. Or, maybe, the trick had been done by the mere knowledge that the evil master of his previous life had finally gone forever.

Snape was beginning to feel tired, though, and although his wish to know was still great, he couldn't bear more at present, and even less could he face the thought of a pacifying conversation with Potter, right now. "I think that that's enough, as a start. Later. Tomorrow, perhaps."

She seemed relieved by his answer, and to be free to leave, so, after a nod of agreement, she stood up, promising to come back again with her friend.

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"So, you see, Harry, he is different. He is almost… kind" Hermione affirmed, after she had made her report to her friends concerning her visit to Snape.

"Kind? The greasy git? Blimey! Perhaps Snape's gone mental during all that sleeping."

"Ron! Stop that! How can you…"

Hermione was amazed: if the first sentence had obviously been said by Ron, the second had been… Harry's?

And she wasn't the only one startled: the three of them looked at each other and suddenly begun to laugh, as they hadn't in a long time, while their eyes were becoming almost teary. Snape was right. They were all still so young… as he too had been, once, she thought again, sobering.

"Tomorrow I'll go home," affirmed Ron when they were again able to speak seriously. "Family needs to stay together and far from here, mum said." After the burial of wizards and witches dead in the fighting, there wasn't really any reason to stay any more in a place which reminded the mourners of so much. And Hogwarts had to be repaired, even rebuilt in some places.

Harry, who had spent the recent days with Ginny, always, as if their present time together couldn't ever compensate for all that had been missed in the past, announced that he would be joining Ron at the Burrow after a couple of days. Hermione, thoughtful, didn't communicate her intentions, until Ronald asked: "Have you decided when you're going to bring your parents back home?"

She had to admit that no, she hadn't, and, after some mumblings about the necessity of knowing that it was safe, that no more Death Eaters were at large, she waved her goodnights, knowing that sleep, to her, would not come as easily as her words of leave-taking suggested.

To restore memories wasn't the same as erasing them, she feared.

A/N

For the title of this chapter I've chosen JKR' words which referred to the power of the Resurrection Stone. I'm using them with a different meaning, though, because Snape's coming back here is real, and it isn't due only to the second of the gifts of Death.