We hope and fear, dread and desire,
And we have promises we might betray.
Yet our touch warms up an icy world,
Just for an hour of every day.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
That night way past three o'clock, Harry is still staggering in the forest. Now, he wishes he would just wake in his bed, but of course that sweet relief is not granted to him. Snape had vanished, his warm kiss only a faint, torturing memory now. Harry feels insane and not sure if it truly happened at all. Did he just kiss a dead man? Is that even possible?
As he clambers through the bushes, he feels more and more sick. Interestingly, he does not feel nauseous because he kissed Snape or because he liked it, but for an entirely different reason: that it cannot happen again. It is not true. It is a dream, an echo, a memory that will vanish the moment the Hallows are destroyed.
The doors in his heart that he so cowardly chose to close after the war, after all the loss, are gaping open now, their hinges torn off by the sheer force of that single kiss. And the pain is there, a pulsing red hole in his heart, with gratitude all around it. A man who saved his life, the man who tormented him stands behind those doors. The vile man, who was cruel to him all his childhood, and the man without whom he would stand beside the fox now. And now, there is a third door, with a ghost, who walks the forest with Harry, who is warm when the night is cold, and whose kiss taste of sunshine.
It breaks him to pieces to think of the man, lying close to death on the floor in the Shack. It crushes his heart to recall how nice that kiss felt. How alive he was, how full of life the world had become. Snape glowed, just for a moment, his skin was like Harry's. Then he vanished as the sounds of the Grand Clock's chiming drifted through the forest just to reach them.
After this, how could he destroy the Hallows and say goodbye to Snape forever? How can anyone expect him to throw it all away and still, how could he live on like this? Snape is not just a man, he is dead, gone beyond the reach of the living and it is only the darkest of magic that keeps his shadow nailed to the world of the living. But he would suffer here, his place is not here. Tales like this never end well, Harry knows theirs will end in the same misery. Snape will vanish and Harry will stay on mad with grief. How could he not. Even these hours spent during the daylight are agonizing.
Hermione waits for him once he steps out of the forest. She is sitting on the ground, wrapped up in a warm brown blanket that is at least three times larger than her. She has a reproachful look on her face, but once she sees Harry, she abruptly stands and rushes to him.
"What happened?" She asks, her voice full of concern.
Harry falls to the ground and looks up at her. She cradles his head to herself as Harry tells her what actually happened. He tells her of Snape and of the fox on the clearing, and tells her how hard it is to not go out in the night, how tempting every single meeting has been, how bad the guilt was, and yet, how good it felt. He tells her about the terrible nightmares that come when he refuses Death and do not go outside to visit the dead. He tells her how alone he is in those dreams, how empty he feels, how terrified, how immensely lonely. Because he has friends, he has Ron and her too, yet no one will understand how lonely dying makes you.
But Snape understands and it feels good to be with him. He sees the darkness to what it is: not terrifying but just the unknown and he fears that not. Not even death scares those who are already dead.
He tells her of the deer, of the bright light, of life and Snape's darkly glowing skin. He tells her it makes him ache to see the lifeless body and yet he returns night after night because even a lifeless body is better than none.
He tells her of the kiss and that is the first time she looks concerned. And last, he tells her of the chestnut tree, of what he has expected to happen there. As he talks, Hermione looks scared more than anything.
"Him, I was ready to follow to the other side," Harry says in the end. His voice is raw, and the sun is coming up.
"Let's go inside Harry." She says, ushering him towards the castle. "We'll get you some Dreamless Sleep. You need to get some rest."
They go and Harry does not resist when she pulls her into the castle then up one staircase then the next. She lets her undress him and pull his pyjamas over his head. She tucks him into bed and puts a little vial to his lips. He swallows eagerly, ready for some restful sleep.
Sleep comes, though it is anything but restful. He is alone at first in the dream. Like bees, there is a constant buzzing around him. There is no source to it, but it is getting louder and louder. He feels a familiar presence behind him, and he looks over his shoulder.
There is no one there, just darkness.
Then the buzzing stops and he glimpses the white skulled fox in the distance right in front of him. It is lurking in the shadow, hiding from plain view.
When Harry notices it, it walks closer. Strange how in reality it drifts in the air, yet now it walks. Its footsteps echo in the darkness. Harry shivers. They stand, facing each other.
Long, clawed fingers touch the skull. Harry closes his eyes knowing what it wants to do.
"Look at me," it says, strangely sounding like Snape back in May when he was close to death. Was it meant for Harry or to the black fox?
Harry even turns away not willing to look at the strange creature. He does not want to see Death's true face. No one is supposed to experience such horrors.
"Look at me," it says again, voice so like Snape's that Harry shudders. He can see the man behind his closed eyes, but when he opens them, it is the creature standing there. Its tone is hypnotizing and Harry is not able to resist. With eyes wide open, Harry watches as it lifts the mask and he wants to scream, though he does not even see anything yet.
It is Snape underneath the fox skull not Death. His expression is blank, yet Harry feels there is something that is making him anxious, something Snape wants to talk about. Harry does not want to talk. He kisses Snape and manages to surprise the man. He can feel that in how tentative he is at first in his response but then Snape grasps Harry's hips and pulls him closer, just to push him away.
"We are not allowed to do that." Snape states only inches away from Harry. His whole body is shaking, Harry can feel it.
He is so warm to the touch, his face, his lips, his hands sneaking under Harry's shirt. It makes Harry's skin burn wherever they touch. It makes him feel alive. Snape kisses him again and again, wild and desperate before he steps away with a firm shake of his head. "Not allowed to touch you."
It is a battle Snape seems to be fighting with himself because Harry already knows he does not care. He moves closer taking Snape's hand – now clawless, watching it as it starts to glow. He kisses it and sees it turn colourful under his lips. For a moment, he wonders how nice it would be to lie in bed with Snape in the middle of the night when it is dark outside. He would kiss every inch of skin and make Snape glow everywhere.
He would do that…
…If the man was alive.
However, Snape is dead and this is a dream. And even the dream is breaking apart. It shutters like broken glass. First only a web of small cracks, that get larger and larger.
"Hold on to me!" He cries for Snape but the man steps away, backing towards the splitting darkness.
"Find the stone, Potter!" Snape says. "If you ever want to see me again, find that goddamn stone."
Then the world shutters and million pieces fall around Harry. He ducks but in vain, the pieces do not hurt him, not more than Snape's words anyway. What does he mean see him again? Will they not meet in the forest tomorrow night?
A hand shakes him awake.
It is Ron. He looks concerned.
"What happened," Harry croaks through dream-sore throat.
"You happened," Ron answers with a small grin. "It's afternoon, mate. You ought to get out of bed. Besides old McGonagall wants to see you."
Harry changes into some decent clothes and thick boots again, then follows Ron out of their dormitory and into the Gryffindor common room. McGonagall is there, waiting for him near the fireplace. Hermione stands next to her looking suspiciously abashed about something.
Harry's heart misses a beat. Among all this, of all the people, McGonagall is the last he wants to talk to. She would not understand. She's too practical and besides, a teacher, moreover Headmistress of Hogwarts. Harry cannot stand the judgmental looks she might give him if she knew about the kiss and everything else.
Ron seems to notice his hesitation. He pulls him away on the top of the stairs, so that the ladies downstairs would not see them yet.
"Look, Harry," He starts, and Harry feels like he needs to say something fast. He is not ready to hear Ron tell him he should not go back into the forest. That he is not supposed to meet with Snape ever again or go out after midnight to see the dead. He ignores a little voice that whispers, Snape might never wait for him just at the treeline of the forest.
"Ron, I'm okay." He says in the end, in his most convincing voice. "Really," he adds just to be sure.
Ron rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure you are, Harry. But in case, you know, terrible nightmares torture you one night, or you freeze your arse off walking with Snape in the forest, there is something I need to tell you." He ignores Harry's indignant look and goes on without missing a beat. "You are an utter moron, Harry. We are your friends, and we've been through some stupid shit together. So, when something happens, you don't just go, turning to the dead instead of us, you understand? Even if we don't agree with what you're doing that does not mean we won't have your back when you are doing it, got it?"
Harry allows himself a little smile as he nods. "I think I got it, yeah."
"And please don't judge Hermione too hard. I think turning to a Professor when something goes bad is wired into her. But in her defence, we were really scared for you last night, Harry."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Ron shrugs. "I would have done the same if it was about Fred. But I would have told you."
There is silence between them for a moment, Harry can feel that Ron wants to ask something, and he is rather certain what the question will be.
"You can see him too, can't you? Fred?" It hurts Ron to say the name, he all but presses it out of himself.
Harry nods. He's seen Ron's brother a million times, every night. He sometimes sat with him, watched him play tricks on others, or even read a book. He slowly figures why Ron has never asked this of him. It would be like an eternal torture if they would be reversed and Ron would be the one seeing Snape - not to ask about him day after day, not to want to see him too.
"He's happy," Harry tells him, though it sounds stupid the moment it slips out if his mouth. Fred would be happier if he could be with his family, playing tricks with his twin instead of the dead.
Yet, Ron seems relieved and nods then pats Harry on the shoulder, as he asks, "Are you ready?"
When Harry nods they head down on the stairs. The common room is empty. Just the four of them stand there close to the fire and it makes Harry wonder if it is by chance.
"Whatever is said between us, Mr. Potter, it is confidential, do you understand?" She says by greeting.
"Hello, Professor. Yes, I understand."
"Great. Ms Granger tells me of your… gift." She says. She is angry, Harry can tell. Her lips are thin as razor, but her cheeks red with fury.
"More like a curse, I would call it," Harry answers lightly.
"And yet you were stupid enough not to even mention it to me. Someone could have cursed you, Harry, there are still people out there with bad intensions. I should have known that when the three of you spends extra time in a library it is not for studying."
"We did study, Professor," Ron says with a wide grin. "I've never read so many books on Death before."
McGonagall gives Ron a glare, that would send Death covering, but otherwise ignores him. She turns back to Harry. "I could have given you relief for your nightmares, aid in your search, support with your loss."
"I'm sorry," is once again all that Harry can say.
"Well, you better be." She sniffs. Her eyes are strangely wet as she continues. "Because the most important thing I could have given you, Mr. Potter, is Severus Snape."