Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorite/story alerted! In response to the question: is this a farce? I must answer that I have taken a lesson from the Bard and strive only to write tragedies, comedies, and errors. I leave this story's particular designation to the discerning reader. ;)

After much pomp, and even more circumstance, it was all over and Harry stumbled back upstairs for another zooming ride on a carpet to his assigned room. It had only been a regular school dinner at Beauxbatons, but Harry decided that if he had to sit through one more round of applause, he was going to explode. Toasting this and honoring that, raise your glasses mon ami to ze great opportunity for magical cooperation! Hermione had translated most of it for him, whispering quickly in his ears what Madame Maxime was saying, her voice low and hesitant. She was quite fluent. Not that it surprised Harry terribly much that Hermione should know French, as well as everything else. What surprised him was that throughout all these years of magic, no one had figured out a spell to make all languages understandable. He supposed that legilimens came close, but even then, that spell revealed only a vague impression of a scene, the caster still had to be able to understand what was said in order to know the meaning of a vision.

Even more surprising than Hermione speaking French was Hagrid speaking French. He must have learned sometime.

Harry bid the carpet a sleepy goodbye at his door and turned the handle. Inside, the room was lit by several candles, casting an adequate, moody glow inside. Harry shut the door behind himself and went to brush his teeth.

His mouth was full of foam when he remembered that he was not alone.

Or at least, he hadn't been alone earlier today. Maybe Snape had decided to haunt someone else.

He brushed nonchalantly and reached for his wand. Maybe he could use homenium revelio, or maybe just revelio. Whatever did Snape want with him? Harry couldn't even guess. In one quick motion he rounded the corner and raised his wand.

Before he could incant a thing a spell flew out of the corner and hit his chest. Harry fell backwards against the wall, his eyes fridigly open. He couldn't breathe.

A dark shadow slid silently out of the corner, opened the door, and left.

Harry's chest began to spasm. It had been a whispered spell, he didn't hear what it was. Harry concentrated his mind, finite incantatum he thought desperately, finite incantatum! But the wordless magic was insufficient. His concentration was insufficient. The seconds slid by and the silence closed in. He couldn't move, and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't call for help. His lungs burned and burned. A minute.

Then two.

Then three.

The door flew open and Hermione charged toward him wand raised. "Relashio!" she cried. "RELASHIO!"

Harry passed out.

It must only have been a few seconds later. Hermione was pulling him onto the bed, struggling with his limp body. Harry gasped, gulping in air. With the oxygen the pain hit his head in a rush. Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming it hurt so badly.

"Close your eyes," a voice said. "Just breathe for a while."

Harry obeyed. Between the stabs in his head, the pounding of his heart, his tingling fingers and feet, he could think of nothing else. Then he became aware of the velvet bedspread beneath him, and the hand on his forehead, Hermione's, the sound of the muttered spells.

The same voice saying, "Salubria vitae, cast it slowly, that's the key."

"Salubria vitae," Hermione said, and cast slowly.

A warm glow washed over Harry and effectively banished the pain. He lay, still gasping for air, fearful that it would happen again, and conscious that each breath could have been his last.

"Hermione," Harry gasped, "how did you know!"

"Snape saw," Hermione said softly, "don't worry. You're safe. Don't move, you're struggling against the healing spell. You'll feel better if you just relax for a few minutes."

If Hermione wanted Harry to relax, Snape was not the person to mention.

"Snape! He did this! Where is he?"

"Shh," Hermione said, "he's not here. He's gone to see if he can track your attacker down. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said he was back as a ghost."

Harry moaned. Snape was back and haunting him. What had he done to deserve this? Other than make Snape's life miserable, of course. Other than playing pranks on him, other than calling him a greasy git, other than snooping into his personal life (which Harry deeply regretted, particularly now), other than being a living reminder of the bad choices Snape had made in his life. Imagine, looking at the busy haired boy in the back of potions class, and knowing that if you'd just been less of an ass that he could have been your son. Had Snape imagined what Harry could have looked like? Awful, greasy, evil, slimy Snape! Harry really hadn't done anything in particular to deserve this. He had at least done detentions dutifully, never complained in class, was always respectful, etc.

"You have the strangest look on your face," Hermione said, "are you still feeling the effects of the curse? Do I need to call Snape back to help? He's the one who knows all the counter-curses to the French-style magic. He saved you, Harry. Ghosts can't cast a spell, of course, but he told me the incantation and how to do it...without his help, you would have died."

Harry couldn't say anything.

"What? You're still fuming about Snape?" Hermione sighed. "He's only a teacher. He was part of the Order of the Phoenix!"

"Snape wasn't a traitor," Harry said.

"Does it really matter?" Hermione asked, "everyone was on eggshells with Voldemort on the prowl anyways. People were doing things that they didn't mean, because they were scared, they didn't think. I don't think Snape hated Dumbledore, even if he did kill him."

Harry took a big gulp and plunged ahead. If he didn't tell Hermione, who could he tell? Hermione always had suggestions on what to do.

"Snape gave me his memories when he died," Harry told her, "he wasn't a traitor. Dumbledore told Snape to kill him- because he wanted to save Draco Malfoy!"

"What! Draco Malfoy kill Dumbledore? That's ridiculous. He couldn't have managed to kill Dumbledore if he'd wanted to."

"Yes that was the point. Voldemort wanted to punish Lucius Malfoy by sending Draco to certain death." Harry said, "and Snape stepped in and saved his life...and his soul."

"That was a very generous thing for the Head of Slytherin House to do for a student," Hermione said.

"But it goes beyond that," Harry said, "do you remember when Dumbledore's arm shriveled up like a salted slug? Well Snape had saved his life then. Dumbledore had received a curse that was unbreakable and going to kill him, Snape confined it to his hand. But they both knew that he wasn't going to last. I think Dunbledore wanted Snape to be headmaster after him. To protect Hogwarts from the Death Eaters."

"Great job he did against the Carrows," Hermione snorted, "well. That explains why Dumbledore trusted him. But why didn't he tell the Order this? Why didn't he tell anyone?"

Harry propped himself up on his elbows. He thought he'd seen a ghostly face behind the curtain. Snape's face, but very unlike Snape.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I don't know why Dumbledore never told the Order why he trusted Snape. Dumbledore wasn't exactly good at explaining himself."

"True."

Harry sat up fully. Every muscle ached. He rubbed his throat with one hand. Hermione was still giving him the eyeball roll that meant she didn't buy that this was the whole story. She didn't press him for answers though, and he didn't volunteer them. For a moment, all he could think of was Snape breathing down his neck for the rest of his life, haunting him for revealing the secret that he'd spent his entire life trying to protect. Why Snape was so touchy about it, Harry couldn't really see. Since everyone involved was now dead, you'd think he'd relax a little about his reputation.

Then Harry abruptly got it.

"Hermione," he said. "That's it! The Maurauders are all dead. If Snape moved on, he'd have to face them for all eternity."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I guess you're right."

"Blast. I'm cursed forever. First Voldemort, now Snape." Harry bolted upright, "what if Voldemort's back as a ghost too?"

Hermione looked perplexed. "I don't think there was much left of him to become a ghost. His soul was split, remember."

Harry shuddered. The thought struck him that muggles didn't have to deal with ghosts. Muggles usually couldn't even see ghosts.

"Harry," Hermione reached over and took his hand, "evil did not leave the world the day that Voldemort died. It's still here. It will always be here. That's why we have to keep fighting. If not Voldemort, then it'll be someone else."

Her face glowed with earnest sentiment. She really cared. Harry flushed a bit. Her eyes flickered down to her hand, and she let go of Harry.

"Ahem."

Both of them looked up, startled.

"Loathe as I am to interrupt such a touching tryst," Snape's ghost said, "I have information that cannot wait."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Your attacker was not human, appears to have come here on the direct orders of Madame Maxime, and is likely to strike again since you are so woefully unprepared. Look to the Borgia for answers," Snape said. "Good evening to you." He tipped his ghostly form in the most sarcastic bow he could manage and disappeared into the drapes.

"He's still hiding in there," Harry told Hermione, "ghosts can't just vanish. Get back here Snape!"

Snape did not re-materialize.

"I think," Harry said.

"Madame Maxime?" Hermione said in shock, "why should she try to kill you? Madame Maxime?" Hermione repeated in disbelief.

"He's probably lying," Harry said, "GET OUT HERE!"

"And you're still in danger?"

"I refuse to be in danger," Harry said, "and I refuse to listen to any more of these dramatics! If he won't tell us anything, then I won't listen. Hermione, you go back to your room, stay there, get up in the morning like nothing has happened." Harry dug through his pockets. "I'm going to set the Skeletal Key on my nightstand," He pulled the object out and threw it down with a clank, "and since I bloody don't even know what it does, that should be as good protection from further assasains as any."

Hermione looked doubtful.

"Look," Harry said, "and don't let anyone see you leaving here either or I'll catch it from Ron." He lowered his voice and whispered in her ear, "and I'll deal with Snape after you're gone."

Hermione straightened up and nodded quietly. "All right, I don't see what else I can do. Except," she said suddenly, "I've got two DA medallions. Take one of them. If anything happens, you can let me know that way." She handed the coin over to Harry.

Harry took it. Hermione gave him a curt nod, brushed off her hands and left. The door closed with a ringing sound. Had she slammed it? Harry couldn't even think of that now. Someone wanted him dead, and they'd almost succeeded in killing him. Harry got up and cast a few protective spells around the room. Maybe he should have had Hermione do this before she'd left, her protections were always stronger than he could manage. He couldn't keep relying on Hermione Granger all his life though. Ron was touchy enough about them as it was. The spells shimmered out, edging a protective bubble around him that made him feel alot better. Harry steeled himself and decided to try an experiment.

"Accio Snape," he said.

A howl went up from behind the curtains. Then the sound of a horrendous scuffle, although the curtains themselves never moved. Harry could see flashes of a gostly arm or leg here and there through the fabric. The spell dragged Snape slowly from his hiding place.

Snape, rather disheveled after the ordeal, shook out the sleeves of his ghostly robe and raked his hair out of his eyes.

"You," Snape said, "are the most foolhardy, air-headed ignoramus, ever to cast experimental spells without knowing what disastrous effects they may have!"

"From where I'm standing it worked rather effectivly."

"Childish boy!" Snape said icily, "accio is designed to work in the physical plane, cast across a metaphysical divide it nearly strained me through the fabric between the worlds! I could have arrive as a pile of gelatinous ectoplasm at your feet!"

"Is that what you use to style your hair?"

Snape snapped his ghostly mouth closed with a click of clenched teeth.

"Thank you for calling Hermione," Harry said, "I owe you my life, which makes twice now that I know of."

Snape seemed even more irate at hearing this and drew himself up to his full height.

"Oh stop swelling up like a toad," Harry said, "why are you here? Did McGonagall put you up to this?"

"Yes," Snape said, "she suspected that there would likely be several attempts on your life. Why do you think she was so insistent that Miss Granger and Hagrid accompany you?"

"Nice of her to let me know about it," Harry said.

Snape paused and held up his hand for silence. He tilted his head to the side, listening. Harry noticed that there were several large gashes on that side of his neck. They seemed to be neatly tended to, cleaned up, in fact he wouldn't have even noticed had not a large dent appeared in his neck.

"I followed a very sinister piece of dark magic away from here," Snape said when the sound died away, "something that I would have more expected to encounter at Durmstrang than Beauxbatons. You were not attacked by an actual person, but by a half-dementor, half-human temporary blended creature. I followed it away from here and back to Madame Maxime's apartments where the ghost repelling charms kick in and I could go no further. In light of this development, I would recommend not trusting her." Snape spoke the last words as if he expected Harry to argue with them.

"I don't trust anyone anymore."

"Not," Snape said, "even Hermione Granger, or you would have told her the real reason that I cannot enter the afterlife."

Harry raised his eyes to the ghost's face, "you can't face her?"

Snape was silent for a moment, contemplation on his features. Then he took a deep breath. "Let me make it clear Mr. Potter, that if you mention, if you hint at, or even allude vaguely to my feelings towards Lily Evans-even the slightest suspicion of a hint - you will begin to feel that Peeves was a fine companion and upstanding citizen because I Will Haunt You for the rest of your miserable life. Is that clear?"

"I think you underestimate the beyond's power to change people," Harry said, "You're just afraid that they'll laugh at you like they used to. You're afraid to face my mother."

"Don't lecture me on matters you have no understanding of!"

"But I do," Harry said, "I was given a choice. After I was hit with that second killing curse." He sighed, "like you, I chose to stay."

Snape eyed him suspiciously.

Harry leaned forward, "and if YOU tell Hermione or anyone else about the conversation we're having right now, I'll make SURE to clear your name forever in Britain and get you awarded the Order of Merlin First Class and have a shrine built in the Ministry of Magic commemorating the great unrequited love of the finest Slytherin for the fairy-tale princess Gryffindor. I can't see if you're going pale or anything considering you're a ghost, but I do hope you understand the situation."

Snape didn't do anything. In fact, Snape looked pretty incapable of thought at this moment.

"Good," Harry said, "no why don't you go and haunt Hermione or something. I'm exhausted and now my neck hurts."

Snape's eyes flashed back to life, "I have no intention of haunting a young lady's bedroom Potter you lowlife."

"Haunt Hagrid then."

"No one knows about my unfortunate state of existence other than yourself and Miss Granger," Snape said, "and I intend to keep it that way."

"Well then what do you know about wine tasting because I've got to give opinions on the 'barrel stock' tomorrow, whatever that is."

"It hardly matters since your aptitude for learning new spells quickly is so abominable."

"Well help me think of adjectives. Bold, fruity, spicy and the like. Or you could go lock yourself up in the bathroom so I don't feel weird about you lurking in my room. Why can't you haunt the hallway? I'm tired."