CCXXIX

Puck stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Minerva. Placing a hand over his heart, he bowed slightly to Severus. "I meant no offense. There are secrets that cannot be spoken, knowledge that must be discovered. I cannot break those laws. They are written upon my bones."

Power pulsed through Severus. Heat with the tang of lightning chased over his fingers. The God's holy breath moved over his tongue as they said, "Shall we break you free of such limitations?"

The smiling Irishman interrupted, "Before you shred our fae friend to bits, mightn't you let me have a word?"

CCXXX

Severus' vision was strange, for he could see more detail with the God's eyes than he imagined ever possible. While Connolly was outwardly ruffled and quite possibly a little drunk, he had the aura of a wizard, fully invested with his power. There was no darkness within him, and Severus found that the man pleased him, or was it the God that smiled?

"You may speak, brave Gryffindor." Severus tilted his head in regal amusement.

The Irishman laughed, "You've a sharp memory, sir. Or should I say, sire?" He placed a hand over his heart and bent at the waist, an echo of the fae's bow of respect.

Extending a hand in permission, Severus and the God spoke, "Proceed with alacrity. Already she has been absent too long."

"My Grandfather once said that it takes great offerings, ones made from the soul to get to God's ear." The light of memory brightened the wizards words. "I loved to listen to him. His stories would transport us to another time without leaving the room. Even after his fingers were too gnarled to strum, his voice was true. His words wooed Magic herself." Connolly met Severus' eyes and asked, "Do you sing?"

CCXXXI

Sing? Severus rocked back on his heels in the moss, his brow shifting his mask in surprise. "I am quite competent with incantation and counter-jinxes. Mr Connolly, you have heard me demonstrate on multiple occasions given you and your classmates managed to poison or injure themselves with irritatingly predictable regularity."

Puck's wide mouth broke into a disturbingly toothy grin and he said, "Tis just the thing. Old Tam favoured Ogma, and you have the look of him."

Connolly grinned like a fool, as though he'd been paid a compliment.

Forcing out a sigh, Severus asked, "This is the only way?"

CCXXXII

Connolly cast an appraising eye over Severus. "What is more traditional than a man wooing his woman with the power of his voice. I find it very hard to believe that you haven't at least dabbled in music, sir? Your lectures were passionate. Hadn't you noticed how the witches squirm when you demonstrate proper technique?"

Severus scowled. There was no possible answer to that which wouldn't make him look like either a fool or a creep. Minerva saved him the trouble by exclaiming, "Mr Connolly!" in tone number three of outrage. Severus had never witnessed tone number ten, but Dumbledore had proved the scale.

Hooch cackled, "He loves his brewing. That's the only sort of cauldron that makes Snape sing."

"That's not very kind!" Pomona's giggling rather ruined the admonishing tone she'd tried to use.

Chuckling, Connolly pulled Pomona into his arm with a fond smile. "What I mean to say, all brevity set aside, is that there is magic in a song sung from the heart. If you love her, then that magic will not fail to find her, worlds away."

Puck's grin fell away as he said, "Call to your Queen, sire. Sing your wife back to you."

CCXXXIII

Severus closed his eyes, shutting out everything. He knew his voice was one of his few attractive qualities. Usually people who acknowledged this tempered the praise with insults lest he mistake it for admiration.

Did he have this in him? He'd no trouble as a masked, anonymous suitor. Now, his audience included people who he'd known his entire life, and he had to bear his heart to save Hermione.

Could he sing her back to him?

He had suffered torture and walked up to the gates of hell for less.

Severus surreptitiously wiped his palms on his kilt.

Fuck it.

CCXXXIV

Severus opened his eyes. Hooch and McGonagall were a ways off, their heads bent together in quiet argument. Puck stood to the side, his hands dripping with green moth-like fae jockeying for attention.

How much time had he already wasted dithering? There was no time for rehearsal. Hell, he yet to choose a song.

The God rumbled, Your heart knows the words, son.

Gratitude welled up within Severus. How strange, to not be alone.

I am here.

Severus inhaled deeply and the clearing immediately became silent. Keeping his eyes on the Sacred tree, he softly sang, "A Stor Mo Chroi…"

CCXXXV

As Severus sang, his voice became stronger with each line, and it was easier to focus on the Sacred Tree.

He couldn't explain what inspired this particular choice, although later he would blame Connolly. The words were perfect, as though the song was written and passed along specifically for this moment.

"...the stranger's land may be bright and fair, and rich in all treasures golden."

Hermione Granger wasn't the sort of witch to be easily distracted by opulence.

"You'll pine I know, for the long, long ago."

He yearned for her return, for she was the Treasure of his Heart.

AN: Thanks to Qdrew for her help in beta'ing this chapter.