CCXXI

Normally, Severus enjoyed flying. It afforded him a modicum of peace and quiet; time and distance that allowed him to regain perspective in the worst of times.

This flight was headed straight to hell, worse than chaperoning a field trip with seventh years who'd been exposed to too much fairy wing dust.

"Och, move your hand you rogue before I remove it for you, Fae or NOT!"

Because they hadn't enough brooms to go around, Puck had volunteered to ride with Minerva. That would be a good story to tell Hermione later. McGonagall's hissing was mostly to keep up appearances. The starlight betrayed the twinkle in her eyes, the sly cat.

Worse, Pomona and her beau were doing inappropriate things on his broom, and Madam Hooch was calling the plays as she saw them, rendering their notice-me-not useless.

Just how had Hooch known the names for those impressive aerial manoeuvres? He had caught her playing naked quidditch early in his teaching career. She hadn't been refereeing.

It was one thing for a beautiful, shameless witch to mount a bloke under the stars. It was quite another to have to face her over tea at the breakfast table the following day.

CCXXII

Severus tore his eyes away from Connelly's impressive one-armed aerial witch-lift-and-separate to notice that they were approaching a tree tall enough to break through the canopy, its proud branches reaching towards the starlight.

He shouted over the wind of their passage, "Is that the one?" If he startled Professor Sprout from her current occupation, he reasoned it was payment for that time she'd coaxed tangleweed to grow in his privy when he was Headmaster. It took weeks to rid himself of the thorns and it was a very lucky thing he didn't need a broom to fly at the time.

CCXXIII

"Why, yes that's the Sacred tree, Severus. My how the ti…iiii...me fliiiiiiiiiies!" Sprout's voice rose to operatic heights as a cackling Hooch shouted, "And Connelly has the Quaffle. He scores!"

Severus began his descent, pulling away from the others. Time was passing, and with every moment his urgency to find Hermione grew stronger. Their bond demanded satisfaction and the God's frustrated need mixed with his own. Neither aspect was long on patience.

It was a herculean effort to ignore Hooch's whistle of appreciation as he plummeted feet-first into the clearing. Rolanda wouldn't look…

"First prize, Mr Granger!" Rolanda did.

CCXXIV

Belatedly, Severus pushed down his kilt to stop the front at least from flying up as he landed in the clearing.

As soon as his toes touched the soft moss of the forest floor all thoughts of embarrassment drained away. The cool clean air soothed him, the tree itself radiating a presence. It beckoned him forward, and with a few strides he placed his palm to the tree's glistening bark.

While Severus had no words, the God spoke. "Hail, old friend. I remember when you were but an acorn. It is good fortune to see you stand tall and strong."

CCXXV

It felt natural to stand and commune with this tree, and Severus only distantly heard the rest of his party arrive. Their squabbling ended, each snipe dying unspoken as they touched down.

Leaning forward, Severus touched his forehead to the bark. Tears sprung to his eyes, as his careful control crumbled under the regard of the tree's ancient soul.

He was as a child to one so wise and old. The Universe was vast, and his wife was lost. Severus prayed for help, her name spoken with reverence and pain. "Hermione." His voice echoed within the space, "Please, come home."

CCXXVI

As Severus' tears flowed, unimpeded, all around him lights winked into being. Each point of light appeared among the leaves and branches, floating down to illuminate the space. One particularly brave spark approached the wizard, hovering close enough that when Severus cracked his eye open, he could make out the shape of a common fairy.

Swiping at his eyes, which was not particularly effective because of his mask, he turned to look at the people who'd come with him. His friends were all undeniably sober and looking on in undisguised pity.

Discomfited, Severus focused on Puck and barked, "What now?"

CCXXVII

Puck was altered in the fairy light, as he watched them dance about the Sacred tree, his eyes betraying an age that had not been obvious in the light cast by the Beltane fire. "You need to reach out to her, King of Summer. We are at the threshold, she needs to come through it."

"Shall I shout for her?" Severus' irritation brought out the bitterness in his voice as he continued, "How loud? Until the Ramparts of Hogwarts shake? Until the stars echo," He tipped back his head and roared, "Hermione!"

The fae had the audacity to laugh as he answered, "Mortals are so simple." He had Minerva on his arm and he stepped closer. "Go ahead and scream if you must, but there are other ways, better ways of communicating across worlds." He raised his eyebrows at Severus before inclining his head to look at Minerva.

If Puck looked older, Minerva was younger. Her cheeks were bright and the lines of age softened in the fairy light. She spoke with a wry smile, "What Severus wants to know is how to accomplish this. Surely he can't just send an owl?"

The fae quirked a toothy grin back, "Guess!"

CCXXVIII

Severus growled, displacing a pair of fairies who'd perched on his horns, "Puck, the time for games is past. Hermione is stranded in your world, and I need your help, not riddles. While she's in danger, I cannot afford to duel wits with you. I would rip a hole in reality to get her back, don't you dare deny me this now."

As Severus spoke he stepped closer, and having the advantage of height over the fae he loomed with all of the menace he'd practised in years of experience he had as Potions Master.

Minerva whispered, "Severus, you're glowing."

AN:

Written for grangersnape100 on LJ, the Spring Fever Challenge.

Qdrew is the best beta ever!