His first thought when landing on French soil was, "I hope I didn't blush too noticeably!", but his hopes for that weren't overly big.
He studied his surroundings, realising that he was only hundred yards away from a cosy looking cottage; the Granger's holiday home. The routine jealousy he would have felt at seeing a property that was so much better than his own house didn't want to come.
He only felt numbness, knowing that the rightful owners would never enjoy their house ever again. His own life hadn't been all peaches and cream, but he had been spared to witness a brutal murder.
He stood on a gravel path that seemed to lead right up to the house, behind him there was an unlit road. He could hardly make out the neighbouring houses, only faint specks of light revealed their presence.
It was fairly dark outside, but the full moon gave adequate light and helped him stay on the narrow path as he neared the house. The salty smell of the sea and the unmistakable rush of waves hitting the shore dominated his senses, and he wished it was daylight to actually see the ocean.
The sea and noises of the local fauna were the only things to bring life to the otherwise silent evening. It would have been peaceful if it weren't for the corpses that awaited him.
As he neared the cottage, tow human shapes could be seen standing by the front door.
"Snape?" he heard a familiar voice.
"Tonks," he replied, not willing to answer with an idiotic, "Yes, it's me."
"Finally," she breathed, and Snape guessed that she wasn't so much bothered about having to wait for him, but the fact that they were closer to finding Miss Granger now. "What do you intend to do?"
"I have discussed everything with Dumbledore and don't want to do it again," he said. "All I need is some of Miss Granger's hair, or blood if you can find some."
"I'm on it," she said and was off.
"Severus," a deep voice rumbled.
"Shacklebolt," was Snape's reply and he sidled up to the other man.
"It's not pretty," the dark-skinned Auror warned and got an amused huff of laughter from the other man.
"That's very considerate, Kingsley, but my eyes have seen pretty much everything under the sky." It wasn't an exaggeration; as a Death Eater he had witnessed the worst of the worst.
"I'm usually surrounded by weeping family members, and this was my standard preparation for the bereaved when something happened," Shacklebolt defended himself.
Without another word, the men walked into the house and Snape saw Kingsley tense even though he must have seen the crime scene before.
Snape walked in first and was immediately hit by the stench of decay. He took in the broken lock on the front door and the destroyed mirror and furniture in the hall. There must have been some struggle.
"When did it happen?" he asked.
"Around a week ago, we reckon," the burly Auror said with a sigh. "Do you need to see them?"
Snape nodded. He didn't actually need to see the dead couple as they had nothing to do with the ritual he needed to prepare, but he had the mad urge to see the people that had produced the brightest witch Hogwarts had seen in centuries.
Without meaning any disrespect, he walked through the puddles of blood that had soaked into the carpet and dried up. He had stepped into far worse during his service to the Dark Lord, and dried blood was not something that made him squeamish anymore.
The couple was lying on the floor, a few feet apart. Mrs. Granger was stretched out by the coffee table, while her husband was lying next to the sofa. Judging by the blood stains on the couch, he had been on it at one stage.
A closer look at the corpses revealed that they had been shot numerous times; the most disfiguring injury was a head wound to Mr. Granger's head, which had ripped off the side of his skull. His face was still intact and Severus bend down to study the dead man.
He had obviously given his daughter his nose and the shape of his chin, Severus realised. Before he could stop himself, he had opened a flaky looking eyelid to see where the girl had her eye colour from, but only felt irrational disappointment when the man's eyes were a dark blue.
Severus could hear Tonks hurry down the stairs and he quickly made his way over to the dead woman, studying her features intently. She had similar hair to her daughter, but the bushiness must have come from another generation altogether.
The shape of her face was almost identical, though, and Severus felt an odd pang in the region of his chest when he noticed the similarity.
Tonks had joined them, and Snape heard her whisper to her superior. "What's he doing?" He didn't hear Shacklebolt answer, and imagined that the man had simply shrugged.
There was no stopping, though, despite the audience, and with a decisive move, he wrenched the uncooperative eyelid open.
Golden-brown… A gorgeous amber – just like Miss Granger's…
He stood in a fluid motion, quickly striding away from the dead and held out his hand to Tonks.
"I found some of her hair. It's quite unique, isn't it?" she said with a weak smile and handed Snape a small glass container with a thick strand of curly hair. It seemed impossibly long.
"Quite," Snape said, still studying the mouse-brown locks, trying to imagine it shine in beautiful reddish hues under the evening sun, like it had done in the photo of her.
He sucked in an irritated breath as he realised where his mind had wandered. This was not the time to daydream; he was here to do a job. And for a moment he wished he never would have gotten involved.
"I also have some blood. It's dried up, of course," Tonks said and held out another little container with dark brown flakes.
"That will do," he said gruffly and took it from her outstretched hand.
"Now what?" she wanted to know, looking at him eagerly.
"Now, I intend to brew a potion."
"Do you think you can brew outside? The smell is getting to me," she asked.
"Use a bubble head charm," was his uncharitable reply, finally feeling more like himself again. He didn't stay in the sitting room, though, preferring to set up his things in the spacious hall; being surrounded by corpses could be a tad distracting.
He enlarged a cauldron and all the equipment he had taken with him. From another pocket he pulled the ingredients, which couldn't have been reduced in size without rendering them useless.
He felt horribly childish and unprofessional – sitting cross-legged on the floor and dicing ingredients on a wooden board that he balanced on one thigh. It didn't help that Tonks had copied his position and sat next to him, watching his process like an excited younger sister.
Shacklebolt stood leisurely against a wall, overseeing the two people on the floor, like a wary parent watching his offspring.
When it was time, Severus opened the small box containing Granger's hair, and after some deliberation, he also added the dried blood. Aftre stirring once, the dark potion changed noticeably.
"Oh, pretty," Tonks remarked, but subsided when she noticed Snape's frown. "Something wrong?"
He only grunted and silently watched the glowing red spiral that twisted slowly through the pitch-black potion. He didn't think he had just ruined the potion by adding both personal ingredients, but knew that this wasn't quite normal. His hand found the lather-bound little book and opened the page he needed.
"My Auror instincts tell me to take this off of you," Tonks said apologetically and got to her feet. She could recognise dark objects with ease and didn't like being in their presence for too long.
Severus ignored her and feverishly read the description again, looking for any mentions of the phenomenon he'd just seen. At the bottom of the page in barely eligible letters stood two lines:
Few have witnes--d the following during the proc—s, glowing manifestations -- different col—rs. Sign of strong b—.
He puzzled over the words, trying to fill in the gaps. The only one he struggled with was the last word. Blood? Backlash? - - Bang???
A snort escaped him and he felt incredulous eyes on him. His mind insistently supplied him with the correct word, and he finally sobered.
Bond
It just couldn't be; it must be a mistake. Yes, that's what it was, just an abnormality…
Shaking his head to clear it he studied the page again, and read mreo words that he just revealed by moving his thumb over a dark smudge of dirt.
It read: Possible consequences:
That was it. The rest of the words weren't readable any longer, and wiping his thumb over the dirt only resulted in destroying the last remains of the ancient ink altogther. Great, just what he needed, but it couldn't be helped.
He got up from the floor, flinching slightly at the audible cracking of his knees. Carefully, he levitated the small cauldron out of the house and deposited it on a patch of grass.
"Whatever happens, don't interfere. If things go wrong, you cannot help me anyway." He sat down on the grass and took off his cloak and frock coat; his white shirt gleamed in the moonlight.
"Do not, under any circumstances, touch me!" he said, looking at Tonks meaningfully as he spoke. "If everything goes according to plan, I will disappear, following my… spirit or astral projection to Miss Granger's location. If anything goes wrong, I will be dead within five minutes. Once I drink this potion, there is nothing you can do to help me. Just don't touch me," he repeated, looking at Tonks again.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, Snape, I got it. I will not lift a finger to aid you, and only touch you after you've snuffed it."
Snape smirked. "Good. Kingsley, see to it that she remembers her words."
The other man nodded with a small smile. "Astral projection?" he said dubiously.
"I've never done this before, I'm not sure how exactly this will work," was Snape's reply.
"Hmm, and what about that swirling red thing in the potion?"
"Nothing for you to worry about," Snape muttered, not looking at the Auror.
"I'd feel better, if I'd understand more about how this will work," Shacklebolt remarked. He wasn't criticising Snape, but didn't like being an incompetent bystander.
"As I've said, it's either me disappearing or me dying. Now make space."
He took out a ladle from his pocket and scooped up some of the potion. Automatically, he softly blew on the liquid, even though it was cooled down. As soon as his breath ghosted over the black surface, the liquid rippled softly and faint red sparks ignited within.
"Beautiful," Tonks breathed and hastily stepped back when Severus glowered at her. "Sorry," she whispered contritely.
Severus turned his apprehensive eyes back onto the potion, suddenly swamped with dread. But there was nothing for it; there wasn't enough time to look for a different strategy.
"Ah, fuck it," Snape mumbled to himself and drank as much as he could before the taste made him gag. Hastily he recited the words for the spell, muttering furiously under his breath while trying to keep the nausea at bay. It was a futile endeavour.
He leaned sideways, dry heaving a couple of times. As he had no idea how much to imbibe, he forced himself to drink some more just to be on the safe side.
He clapped a hand over his mouth, hoping to keep the stuff inside. Just as he thought he'd embarrass himself by vomiting in front of his small audience, he gasped deeply as he felt incredible warmth spread through him.
With a sweet and comforting smell of something fruity in his nose, he fell backwards, ending up sprawled on the soft grass. His breathing accelerated and turned into shallow gasps and wheezes.
As Snape had predicted, Tonks made an instinctive step towards him, when she heard the unhealthy noises he produced.
Shacklebolt held her back, keeping her hand clasped in his.
When Severus began to clutch at his chest, trying to claw his way through his shirt, Tonks keened softly in commiseration.
"This doesn't look right," she began and hid her face in Kingley's chest. Neither of them dared to move, but standing there helplessly and waiting for his possible death was torture.
"Will you look at this," Shacklebolt suddenly said, with awe tingeing his soft voice.
"No, I don't think I will," Tonks said but found herself forcibly turned to look at the man on the grass again. What she saw made her gasp.
Snape's frantic movement had stopped and he lay absolutely still, his unblinking eyes staring at the night sky above him. His chest rose and fell steadily. Above him, like a static cloud, hovered a thick red mist, small sparks suffusing it like a beautiful Christmas tree decoration.
"Stunning," Tonks breathed, and didn't notice the indulgent smile of the man who still held her hand.
The next second, the red mist rose and popped out of sight.