Chapter 90: The Noble Path

Of his wife's many quirks, her scatterbrain disorganisation was perhaps the only one that evoked true irritation from Snape. Especially when she would misplace a Philosopher's Stone and give Snape a metaphorical heart attack. Who puts the Philosopher's Stone in a drawer? Snape thought to himself after summoning it from the bedside table where Lily had stored it and subsequently forgotten about it.

"Sorry, I must have forgot to take it with me this morning," Lily grumbled as she emerged into their shared room from Snape's office. She had been swearing up and down she had it in her pockets since they had met for lunch at the Great Hall.

"Care, Lily. Need I remind you of the precious cargo I have entrusted to you?" Snape scolded as he unlaced his Focus Stone pouch from his belt.

Though he still intended for the stone to be kept close to his wife, he had cause this day to borrow his creation. He stowed it in his pouch, in a compartment apart from the other stones he had gathered throughout his short stint as an alchemist. Placed snugly next to the shard of jagged black life and death packed tightly together. Rather symbolic.

"Sorry," Lily offered again, floating by the entryway looking the proper image of contrition. "Maybe you should just hang onto it?"

It had become a frequent point of discussion since Snape revealed the truth of his creation. What started as awe and wonder turned quickly to reluctance. The reluctance of taking responsibility for this artefact of legend, and in many ways, Snape felt that point valid.

There was a reason why Dumbledore had hidden the stone behind a multi-tier trap system when he had taken charge of the artefact a lifetime ago. An object able to create gold and eternal life was not an object one wished to carelessly possess. The physical manifestation of the ultimate desires of humanity, its fable well and truly embedded into the psyche of the wizarding world. Its legend dwarfed even that of the Deathly Hallows, for its existence had never been called into question.

Until now, Nicolas Flamel had remained the only man in the history of the wizarding world to have ever created this ode to human desires. And perhaps it would be best that to the world he remained as such, for Snape had no desires to paint a second target on his head.

Knowing what Snape knew now, he wondered why it had taken so long for alchemists at large to ken upon the truth of the creation. Alchemists with better grasp on the subject than Snape ever had. Though the idea of entwining two memories together had never been a concept inked into the annals of alchemy, it was not a stretch to attempt.

That would be one of many questions Snape intended to pose to Flamel that afternoon. A teatime had been arranged by the headmaster with an invitation to Snape and Lily both. Snape had little doubt about the intention of the get-together.

Pulling the threads, Snape closed his Focus Stone pouch. He tied it away under his belt, feeling the hefty weight of the magically expanded alchemical pouch pull against the weight of his far lighter money pouch.

"Aww, don't be like that. I said I was sorry. I don't want us going on a visit all prickly between us," Lily offered with a grimace, no doubt reacting to the scowl Snape wore after that scare and a half. "Are we still up for tonight?"

Snape felt his scowl melt away, an involuntary reaction to her reminder. "Don't think that turning my mind to such a direction takes you off the hook for your carelessness."

"What?" she uttered with an air of innocence.

Snape's eyes narrowed. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"In fact, since we're already here…" she continued, her voice turning sultry. "We do have time."

"I'll thank you not to use my basest instincts against me," he growled, but still unable to stop himself reaching for his pocket watch to assess exactly how long they had.

"Class starts in fifteen minutes," Lily helpfully supplied with a display of her wristwatch.

"What sort of quick tryst do you take me for?" Snape muttered, tucking his watch away.

"You don't need to do anything fancy," Lily uttered without a hint of coyness. "Fifteen minutes is more than enough. Your class is literally outside."

"And yours is all the way down in the dungeons," Snape stated with a tone of finality.

This was the second point of frequent discussion since that fateful day. After agreeing to conceive a child, he had found himself propositioned near-relentlessly. A problem Snape had never thought he'd have, or think of as a problem.

He placed a hand upon Lily's shoulder, beseeching her for patience. "Tonight. When I return from my visit. We'll try again tonight."

And try they had been for near two weeks, barring a hiatus during Lily's regular monthly cycle. Since the night he had finally conceded to the idea of fathering a child, or perhaps more aptly the morning after. He had been utterly exhausted that evening, as the day spent in agonising fear and frantically journeying up and down the castle had left him utterly spent. At the very least, that next morning, being a Sunday, they could indulge in one another's company. He couldn't really complain about the side-effects of his decision, but he was far more concerned about the results of the intended effects.

Lily stepped forward, those green eyes met his, still sparkling with mischief. "No excuses, Sev. You owe me for forgetting Valentine's Day."

"I don't see the point of Valentine's Day," Snape mumbled as he obliged, closing the gap between them and meeting her lips, indulging in a kiss that lingered for several moments longer than what was strictly appropriate.

Lily emerged from the kiss sporting a lopsided smile. "Are you having second thoughts about our fifteen minutes?"

"I'll thank you not to test my self-control," Snape grumbled with a matching smile of his own. "Honestly, it's like we're teenagers again."

"Oh Sev, we are nine-teen," Lily chirped. "I know you're forty in spirit and all, but do try to enjoy your youth while you have it again. You're one of the lucky rare specimens who gets to experience being young twice."

Snape raised his eyebrows in mock exasperation. "What a shame it is then that it is wasted on me."


Upon first glance, one would have never thought this unsuspecting cottage in Devon was occupied by a man regarded by many as a living legend. The creator of the Philosopher's stone and ancient enough to see the rise and fall of civilisations, Nicolas Flamel had been regarded by the entire wizarding world as the greatest Alchemist to have ever existed. Yet five hundred years of fame, fortune and worldly experience did not convince the man of a better retirement than the rolling hills of Devon.

Built of rustic stonework and mismatched shapes for windows, the little cottage would have looked a picturesque example of an English country cottage if not for the lavender smoke that billowed from its snow-capped chimney. It was a scene Lily would have appreciated if her equilibrium was not already thoroughly upset by side-along travel. Apparition with passengers was one of the few crafts in the magical world that even Albus Dumbledore could not find a way to make tolerable.

"Welcome, welcome. Come in," chortled a frail-looking elderly witch in a light French accent. She cast the door wide open for her guests, welcoming them through. Though weathered with age, her brown eyes sparkled with the liveliness of a woman half her years.

"Ah, Perenelle, as lovely as ever," Dumbledore remarked as he took her hand and laid a kiss upon it. "And may I introduce Severus Snape and his wife Lily Snape." He turned to his companions. "Likewise, may I introduce Perenelle Flamel, Nicolas' wife."

Lily did a double take. She had to reassess her estimation of the woman's age upon realisation that she was the wife of the ancient alchemist.

"How lovely to meet you," lady Flamel said, turning to the pair trailing behind the headmaster. "Come in, come in. Get out of the cold. Take your shoes off."

The moment Lily stepped through, she realised that she was encroaching upon foreign territory. The quaint oak plank door gave way to a grand hallway lined with French arches, pulling to a ceiling far higher than the brick cottage exterior would have one believe. A soft peach plaster lined the hallway, a decorative edging lining the points where the wall met the ceiling and the floor, both gilded with gold. A heavy bitter coffee aroma tickled Lily's nose, a smell that no doubt eased her husband's mood like few things could.

Thankfully, the winter ended at the threshold of the door. The floorboards were enchanted to emanate heat, warming the interior to a comfortable temperate spring. A crimson rug lay atop the soft-wood of the flooring, cutting through the middle of the hallway, deep and soft and keeping the heat as a blanket would.

Lily hung a step back, allowing for her husband and the headmaster to lead by examples of etiquette. Shoes came off at the door in this household, it seemed, for Dumbledore charmed off his pair of eccentric green felt boots and set them by the doorway. Likewise, Severus complied, unlacing his boots and magically scouring the ice from his soles. Lily followed suit, setting her snow boots beside her husband's. The removal of shoes was not a staple of British households and honestly, Lily didn't know why it wasn't. She certainly never liked the idea of tracking dirt and mud throughout her living space. Though the home she now lived in sported cold stone floors and was not exactly conducive to traipsing about without footwear.

A house elf appeared by the legs of her mistress, dressed in black sheets fashioned into the likeness of a maid's dress. "Shall Mimi take the master's cloak?" the House Elf offered in a squeaky voice.

Severus obliged, unslinging his cloak, allowing it to be magically whisked away into an open and offering cloakroom. Lily too unslung her cloak, heavy wool rimmed with faux fur, and released it to the house elf's domestic magic.

Rather than allow the house elf to take on a more active role, Lady Flamel led them down the hall, passed by slow and shuffling steps. They stepped by the door leading to the lounge room, and Lily was unable to stop herself from slowing a step and snooping inside. The room was furnished with leather-backed sofas that she imagined looked nicer than they likely felt. A thick luxurious rug was splayed across the floor, ending just before the grate of the fireplace. They approached a door set to the side of a flight of stairs that did not appear deep enough to house anything more than a broom cupboard within. But Lily knew better than to judge based on first impressions in a magical household so the reveal of an additional set of stairs leading upwards into a separate dimension of the house did not even elicit a bat of her eyelid. What did surprise her was the stairs suddenly shifting when she set foot on them, lifting her up the stairs in an almost rippling motion as she held on to the similarly shifting railing for dear life.

"Ah, so to his study today, is it?" Albus remarked, seeming not in the least ruffled by the advent of magical moving stairs.

"Indeed. And for the life of me I do not know why. We have a perfectly workable lounge room and he's forever entertaining guests in his room of clutter," Lady Flamel lamented as she too weathered the magical ascension with an air of well-practised ease.

"Nicolas. Your guests are here!" Lady Flamel chirped as she stepped off the moving steps and onto the flight. Despite her exceedingly advanced age, she was lithe enough to sidestep the floating tea tray that followed up behind her alongside her house elf.

"Albus, Severus. Welcome, welcome," a voice greeted the pair as they stepped past the threshold. Lily followed a step behind, eyes already flitting about the revealed room with an air of utmost curiosity.

The library of books that lined the walls was what first jumped out to her. Great tomes stacked on shelves stretched to a ceiling that appeared magically extended far beyond the constraints of what an outside view of the small cottage had promised. Swathes of scrolls were piled on triangular shelves, constructed for the very purpose of stacking rolled parchment neatly. Unfurled parchments were pinned to whatever little wall was available, depicting formulas and images beyond Lily's realm of expertise, which truthfully was quite narrow. A window was set into the furthest wall, sunlight streaming through despite how deep under the house this study must have been set. Magic had a way with editing the rules of architecture and construction.

"Why, hello. You must be Lily," came that voice in greeting from further inside the room. Lily's eyes were drawn past the parchments to a figure sat hunched by a table so inundated with oddities it took Lily a second to identify it as a table at all.

"Hello," Lily greeted lamely as her mind fumbled for the correct etiquette for greeting a four hundred-year-old legend who painstakingly stood to greet his guests.

"Welcome, welcome. Do excuse the mess," the ancient alchemist spoke in a deep yet clear and seemingly free of the strain from the centuries that Lily had expected.

Lady Flamel sighed, "There wouldn't be a mess in the lounge room."

The cluttered table vanished as three seats appeared in its place. Armchairs of wood framing carved in the French fashion, warm wood rimmed and padded with cushions in all the areas where they might expect to meet a person's contact.

"Good Afternoon, Nicolas," Albus greeted as he took his seat.

The ancient alchemist turned his eyes to the headmaster. "How long has it been? Why, it feels like just yesterday you were both sitting across from me, discovering your potential as fledgling alchemists."

"I have felt those decades pass far slower," Dumbledore remarked as he accepted his cup of coffee.

"It has not even been a year for me." Severus, too, took his seat and accepted his cup. No doubt he had been eyeing that cup since he had first stepped foot into the household. Lily knew him well enough to know the dire weakness he harboured for that drink.

Lily took her seat in the remaining chair and accepted her cup, more out of politeness than preference. Lily could never enjoy the drink without, as Severus would say, ruining it with cream and sugar, and there didn't appear to be any on the tea tray for the offering. But sip it she did, to the detriment of her bedtime. It was honestly too late in the afternoon for her to imbibe and still be able to sleep soundly. Sev suffered the same caffeine-related sleep disturbance, but he refused to admit it or allow it to dictate his afternoon drink of choice.

"Oh, do excuse me. I just remembered. You English ladies and gentlemen love your tea, don't you?" Lady Flamel fussed. "I'm afraid Nicolas and I are coffee drinkers so we seldom do tea. I'll have to dig out our tea set. I wonder if I can even remember where I stored it."

"I am partial to coffee," Severus offered quickly. Understatement of the century.

Lily's opinion differed, but she didn't wish to make a fuss. "Coffee suits me just fine."

Lady Flamel shuffled to the door as her husband set his floating cup of coffee on a floating tea table that drew up beside him. "I shall fetch some pastries for our guests," the elderly witch announced, eager to see to her guests. "You have not tasted true French pastries as those baked by the hands of a French woman."

"My dear. We have engaged the services of a magical servant to ensure you can take a seat and rest your bones," Flamel beseeched his wife.

But the lady of the house waved him off. "Oh nonsense, Nicolas. What is the point of living in a home run by another? Next you'll tell me I should allocate the pastry baking as well. Nothing against your cooking, Mimi darling." And with that she set off down the shifting stairs, house elf trailing behind.

The moment his wife left the room, a jug of milk appeared on Flamel's floating tea table. "My dear wife's palate is far stronger than my own. I can't abide without some milk. Would anyone else like some?"

"Yes, please." Lily jumped at the offer. "And some sugar, if you have any handy."

"But of course, my dear," the alchemist obliged, summoning an earthenware jar filled to the brim with a coarse-grain sugar, along with a pitcher bearing a steaming fill of frothy milk. "And I do insist, try some steamed milk in your coffee. Café au Lait, as we used to call it in Paris."

Sure, why not? "I'll have a taste." Lily summoned over the pitcher after she packed her coffee with sugar, or ruined it, as Severus might have said. With a careful pour, she filled the difference with the hot milk, seeing the coffee take on a film of froth on top of its dark surface. One sip, however, was enough to alieve her trepidation.

The ancient alchemist's eyes were upon her, a striking honey brown, almost glowing gold upon the strike of the sun. Upon meeting her eyes, he turning to Severus with a smile. "I've wanted to meet the woman you married since the day you spoke of your nuptials." He turned his golden eyes back upon Lily.

"Really?" Lily was a little surprised at the notion that someone as venerated as the ancient alchemist could possibly know her name, much less want to meet her.

Those golden eyes turned to her once again. "I remember when your husband had first come into my fold as a student. Creative and clever and quite reserved, but his creations spoke clearly of you."

"Really?" Lily's curiosity was stirred. Beside her, she felt Severus shift in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable with suddenly becoming the topic of conversation.

"Why, memories make up the heart of alchemy," Flamel shared readily. "For most alchemical students of talent, the creation of Focus Stones is the greatest challenge. Did you know that, Severus?" he asked, directing his words to Lily's husband.

"I had little notion," Severus answered rather stiffly, no doubt wary about the direction the topic of conversation might take.

"No, I don't expect you to know. I never told you lest your head swell to the detriment of your effort. But I needn't have worried, it seemed. I have heard that lack of motivation was never a concern for you." Those golden eyes seemed to shine with pride. "For most youths talented in the craft, their lack of experience is the greatest roadblock to overcome. They would strike out into the world, determined to see all they could, feel all they could, make the greatest and most colourful memories, and fill their heart with the wisdom that only experience could give them. Learn to appreciate the happiness in their lives in a way that only the taste of sorrow could teach. Some take decades to succeed. Some never do." His golden eyes fixed upon Severus. "Yet that had never seemed to be a limitation to you; even at your tender age you appeared to weather the most difficult trial of this craft without a shred of decent struggle. You were a boy with wisdom well beyond his years. A heart filled with the greatest highs and lows of existence. Yet, only at the tender age of sixteen. It all made sense when he expressed his intentions to wed." Those honey gold eyes turned to Lily once more. "In six-hundred years of life, there is one belief I hold truly dear. That is, that love is the greatest power of all."

Lily felt a little flustered by the very thought. Merlin knew how mortified Severus felt. Such a private topic casually discussed while taking tea and coffee, as it were. How must Severus feel? His take on privacy stretched well beyond Lily's personal irks. She could only imagine the simmering embarrassment he must be feeling.

But one glance at her husband revealed a surprising calm upon his features. "I finally understand why Albus takes so to that belief. There was a secret behind those words that the rest of the world was not privy to," Severus offered mysteriously.

Those golden eyes flittered away from Lily. "And what of you, Severus? Have you become privy to it?"

To that, Severus produced that crimson stone from his pocket. That stone he had created from his blood, ingenuity and desperation.

Those golden eyes fell upon that stone, as too did silence.

Severus was the first to breach that silence. "I have not yet found the formula for the elixir, if that is what concerns you," he assured quickly.

Flamel's golden eyes held Severus'. "But you are searching for it."

"I am." To say otherwise was to lie by no elegant margin of believability.

"Then you would appreciate that I would not make it so easy for you." Flamel's words were not a challenge or admonition, more like a statement of fact.

Severus did not push the issue. "I do not expect you to divulge your secrets. But I will appreciate any critique of my efforts."

One withered hand held forward in silent request. Severus did not hesitate to offer the stone. His mythical creation passed from him to the age-weathered hands that had touched upon such a stone before.

The stone shone a deep blood red in the cheerily lit study as Flamel held it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. The tip of Flamel's wand touched the surface of the stone, his magic invisible to the eye but doubtless in its power, for magic aged to power like fine wine.

"This is a philosopher's stone, and will function in every way the stone should. However, it is not optimised well. The reaction rate for product conversion would be too slow to sustain you to immortality," Flamel offered after a moment's observance.

"Explain, please," Severus requested as he set his cup of tea back onto its saucer, his black eyes unwavering in his visible interest.

Flamel obliged in a manner befitting a professor indulging his student's curiosity. "Have you placed your creation to the test, yet? Of course you have, if you had half the curiosity you displayed under my tutorage." Lily could attest to that very fact. Though he made her carry the stone with her throughout the day, he had sought the stone from her company since. Each time that he had, she had found him sat at his alchemical tables, burning lamplight well into the witching hours. There was no unseating him in those moments of his fervoured focus. There was no mistaking to what end he was pursuing in his studies.

"I have," Severus confirmed. Yet again forthcoming with the truth.

Flamel prodded further. "I imagine you have been successful in your transmutation of gold. It is not so different to the transmutation of any metal."

"I have found a measure of success," Severus confirmed. And that he had. Lily had seen the results of his work lined neatly upon his table. Little nuggets barely the size of peas. Scrolls, too, were beginning to stack up. Neatly kept records of purity and weight. Habits born of a learned and meticulous scholar.

The ancient alchemist held a knowing gleam in his golden eyes. "Less yield and high transmutation times, am I correct?"

"You are," Lily's husband confirmed again

"You can assume the same issues when applying it to the creation of the Elixir. You will take far too long and yield far too little for it to sustain you to eternity," Flamel explained, rather generously in Lily's opinion. To be so forthcoming with the secrets to the greatest artefact in the history of magic. She could hardly believe she was sitting in on this conversation.

Flamel took a sip from his coffee seeming unaffected by the monumental secrets he was bestowing upon his guests. "Perenelle and I must take our dose of potion daily, in the hour before we take to bed. Without it, neither I nor my wife would rise again in the morning." Those golden eyes peered forth, alighting once upon each of his guests. "A gift, to be certain, but a curse in the same breath. I am thankful for the years beyond those that life would have granted me, life spent with the one most precious soul in my life. But time does not stop for us simply because we refuse to succumb to it. I can feel age wear at my bones and sap the vitality from my limbs. And though my wife does not complain, she, too, feels the centuries upon her." Those golden eyes drew to the surface of his half-filled cup. "If you seek immortality then there will be burdens you must bear. To exist upon this world, see friends, families and civilisations fall to dust, to feel the age upon your back, and know that time will never take you."

A chill passed through Lily. Those fears had been within Lily's heart from the moment her husband revealed that stone to her. A fear she now heard vocalised by the only man who could claim such knowledge with certainty.

But no such thoughts weighed upon Severus. "If I may, I wish to know where I have gone wrong," he asked, cutting straight through the philosophical conversation.

The alchemist held aloft that blood red pebble as he obliged. "That is because your formula could see some optimisation. For one, you used far too little blood. Not surprising, for blood is a rarely used material, its composition complex. I would not have covered it in our lessons, and as you are not a dark wizard, it is doubtful you would have had cause to experiment with the substance."

Or perhaps he had. It occurred to Lily that Severus may very well have had practice in this aspect of the Dark Arts. After all, he was a potioneer at heart, and though disheartening to think on, had spent a period of his life indulging his darkest self. She could not fathom how else Severus' first thought for a solution would be to take a blade to hi own flesh. But then again, it would not be the first time.

The thought scared Lily. The memory of that moment flashed before her eyes, never really leaving her psyche. Severus, huddled in the mud and dirt of that forest floor, cradling the stump of his severed hand. A hideous price he paid for her life. She knew how far he would go for her survival. How much further he could go...

"Your memories, too, though correct in their aspects, and powerful in their symbolic hold, are improperly balanced," the ancient alchemist continued, his words as technical as they were baffling.

"What do you mean by that?" Severus asked, his brows furrowed with the question.

Flamel paused at the cusp of a sip. "I mean no disrespect for the cherished memories you had used. I cannot comment about how you had undertaken the selection process of such memories, and I do not doubt the strength of the memory. After all, it was enough to bind the form of the stone."

"But not enough otherwise?" Sev muttered, oddly affected by that mild criticism. Where once she might have believed his reaction a symptom of an overly sensitive nature, she had long since known better of the fortitude of his nature.

"Do not take it as criticism of the strength of the memory. There is something else in play that I cannot truly know," the alchemist continued. "Symbolism of alchemy is almost a craft in itself."

Whatever high level alchemical discussion that was being had was flying straight over Lily's head. Her husband, however, appeared thoroughly invested. His coffee sat cooling upon a circular levitating tabletop by his elbow. Wresting his attention away from strong coffee was a feat in itself.

"How has this stone remained secret for so long?" Sev finally asked after a moment's rumination.

A small smile touched Flamel's lips as he poured himself a second cup of coffee. "It all seems so simple in hindsight, doesn't it?" the ancient alchemist blew upon his steaming cup before taking a casual sip. "In six hundred years, so many have come to me seeking the secret of immortality. A fact I'm certain you do not find surprising. In those same six hundred years, I have watched alchemists try and fail. It requires a special blend of ingenuity, dedication and imagination required to come upon the secret naturally. And yet with all that, it would not be enough if they do not find another to love." Lily wondered if it was her imagination that those golden eyes appeared to flicker towards Albus as the alchemist spoke. "And had I passed on the secret, well… that, too, I have known naught but failure and disaster."

Lily's skin tingled. She felt as if she were an intruder upon this conversation of ancient and forbidden secrets. She glanced nervously at her husband, finding his attention fixed firmly upon the ancient alchemist, hanging onto every word. Across from Severus, she caught Dumbledore's eyes. A smile graced his lips before he, too, turned to Flamel with the air of a man who knew what was to be said.

"I had taught another my secrets. An apprentice. He was the reason I swore to never teach another the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone. When he had learned the secret, he chose to undertake far fouler methods than the courtship that was required of him. He corrupted the minds and memories of women in his attempt to create the stone, and other things I do not wish to speak of." Flamel paused, almost with an air of regret. "Then, when that failed, he stole my stone and corrupted it with Dark Arts."

"A Horcrux, to be precise," Albus spoke, turning all eyes on him. "History may not name it as such, but I have little doubt, and neither does any dark wizard that has studied such matters. For this incident had been the first instance in history where a tethered soul had been brought back to life."

Severus turned to the headmaster. "I will not be careless, Albus."

"Nor had Nicolas been," the headmaster countered.

"Well, I did keep the stone in my sitting room armoire," Flamel admitted without a trace of sheepishness.

Lily returned to her coffee, feeling the tension suddenly rise within the room from a source she didn't know or understand. Conversations were had that she knew not the context to. Severus met Albus' eyes with a calm intensity that Lily could not decipher and the silence that followed did little to shine further light onto this mystery.

The sudden appearance of the house elf, Mimi, served to dispel whatever it was that was brewing. The elf held aloft a platter upon which was piled high a stack of pastries, mouth-watering scent wafting off its bounty. "Mistress Perenelle has found herself overcome by exertion. She has retired for a nap and sends her apologies along with her pastries."

The floating platter whizzed by the host and his guests, offering each a selection of beautiful golden pastries. Lily could smell the blueberry and cheese even before the platter paused before her, its destiny written before she had even laid eyes on it.

A small plate offered her its services, materialising upon the table floating by her side. Lily had her still-warm pastry deposited upon it, and out of habit more than anything, settled her coffee cup upon it too, using it much like she would a saucer just so she could juggle both drink and pastry at once.

Severus, too, had a pastry in hand, perhaps to be polite more than anything. More importantly, his coffee had found its way back to his attention, perhaps heralding the end to discomforting conversation.

"Thank you, Mimi," Flamel said as he received his plate. "And please serve Perenelle a cup of coffee at her room. She rarely sleeps well without it."

Setting down her platter of delicacies, the house elf winked away to do as she was bidden, leaving a grateful Lily to help herself discreetly to seconds. It was one of those times she was grateful Flitwick had insisted she practised her natural gifts to this point. What good was it to know how to silently and discreetly cast the summoning charm if not to sneak another helping of dessert?

But her act of discretion had been detected as amber eyes turned upon her, accompanied by a smile. "Perenelle would be pleased to hear that you enjoy her baking so."

Grimacing, Lily swigged her coffee before speaking, lest she sprayed flakes of pastry. Severus would be appalled. "It's absolutely delicious," she offered sincerely. "I especially loved the pairing of cheese and fruit. Are those whole real blueberries inside?"

"If only my wife were well enough to join us. She would regale you with tales of her cooking prowess. Why, nothing could bring her more pleasure than to while away her afternoon sharing recipes."

Lily internally winced. "I wouldn't have much to offer, I'm afraid. Sev didn't marry me for my cooking."

That elicited a laugh from Flamel. "No, I wouldn't imagine he had."


I knew it was a bad idea to have coffee in the afternoon.

Bedtime had come around, and Lily did not feel even the slightest nip of tiredness. It had to be the coffee. She had spent the evening marking homework, a chore that would ordinarily set her pining for the warmth and comfort of her covers.

Cleaning up her work from the desk in Severus' office, she re-entered her private quarters, intent on going through the motions of bedtime despite what her mind was telling her.

She levitated her box of marked scrolls onto the top of the bookshelf. Sev hated it when she simply dumped her stuff on the dining table or couch, even when they had no immediate plans to use them.

"Ready for bed?" she asked her husband, who sat, predictably, at his alchemy table. Another row of tiny gold nuggets lined the surface.

"Hmm?" was his only response as he meticulously set weights upon a scale ordinarily used to weigh out potion ingredients.

"Get ready for bed," Lily rephrased her request as she stepped into the bathroom. When she stepped out again, showered and refreshed, she found her husband still sitting stubbornly at the table, stacking his gold like a miser.

That was it. Today was the day she actually had to work for her husband's attention.

"Bed, mister," Lily commanded as she stepped up beside her husband.

Sev did not even glance upwards. "You may use the bathroom first. I'll be right there."

"I've already exhausted all the bathroom has to offer; I don't see what else I could do in there," Lily quipped lightly, prompting her husband to finally glance up from his work.

His black eyes flicked to her, an apologetic smile working its way onto his normally stoic expression. "I apologise. I'll go prepare for bed and… my duties."

"Hey. Don't make it sound like a chore," Lily griped with a grin as she stepped aside, allowing Sev to pass and suppressing the urge to pat him on the butt. Though they could be playful with their affections, he had expressed dislike for that affectionate pass, and Lily wasn't in the habit of making her husband uncomfortable. No, he was perfectly able to make himself feel uncomfortable.

Made to wait until her husband finished his own nightly hygiene rituals, Lily busied herself with distractions. She glanced upon his rune table, observing the pieces he had set out upon it. After taking tea with the legendary inventor of the Philosopher's stone, she understood what Sev was trying to do. He was weighing out his gold, trying to determine if he had enough for another crack at the creation of the mystical stone. She could see an empty bottle of what once was a blood replenishing potion she had brewed and her heart dropped at what he was no doubt preparing to do.

Secrets that had been kept for hundreds of years had been dropped upon her head that afternoon. Secrets she was expected to keep, for apparently this journey took two to see to the end.

But she had misgivings aplenty for this ask.

He hadn't asked her yet, but she knew he wanted her memory for this task. But given her memories she would have, and willingly, too. She had nothing to hide from him. There needed to be someone in this relationship without secrets, and she knew it wouldn't be him. But she could not help but feel a pang of loss knowing that it was her silver doe that was taken first. The only copy of memories that no longer existed in the world. Precious moments lost to the voids of time. What was the point of living forever if it cost her precious moments of a life she was still living?

At the very least, the memories she gave were hers to keep. There was no risk of forgetting, she was assured. The spell she was taught to extract her memory only took a copy. It was apparently the same spell that allowed for usage of the Pensieve, something Lily had been looking forward to playing around with, too, especially now that her bottled doe needed replacing.

No, it was Severus she was worried for most. He had already proven himself more than capable of doing real harm to himself to preserve her life. How far would he go in pursuit of eternity? Already he had taken a knife to his own hand, the only hand of flesh and blood he had left. The stone itself already demanded blood as its forfeit, how much further would the elixir itself demand of him?

And ultimately, she didn't want eternity.

Life had an end. It was inevitable to all that lived. A brief life for those who lived it well, but a tragic loss if wasted. And that was what Lily feared most.

Severus was a soul of dedication. He had proven that long ago in a life that Lily had not been a part of. Each task he faced in life he dedicated with single minded fervour. He would find success or he would find an alternative. That was just the man that he was.

But life was unpredictable and success was uncertain. Severus had already wasted one life in regret, and Lily didn't want him to waste another.

Hands fell upon her waist, startling Lily. She couldn't help but giggle as she felt a warm body press up behind her. "Sev! How do you move so quietly?"

"I have had much practice catching students unawares," he replied, his hot breath tickling her neck. "Gryffindors, especially."

She turned to face him, throwing her arms about his shoulders as she found his lips. It was moments like this that he seemed to live in the here and now. That he knew how to enjoy what he had and stop fretting for the future. That he could appreciate all that he had.

Lily supposed that was the greatest difference between a Slytherin's thinking and that of a Gryffindor. And though they may never share the same outlook in life, love bound his heart to hers. Like the magic that linked their wedding rings together. A stronger magic there never was than that of love, and the Philosopher's stone was proof of that.

They had spent weeks on crafting a curse that would stick to that sword, but why were they crafting a curse to begin with? It was crafted for a Gryffindor, and no sword of Gryffindor would consider a curse to be what made it stronger.

What spell then would qualify?

That was the thought that jolted Lily from bed.

"What's wrong?" Severus muttered, rousing from his sleep. His one arm that he kept looped protectively about her as she slept reached for her as she slipped from the covers.

"I just thought of something I haven't tried with the enchantment. I have to go," Lily answered as she pulled away, already missing her husband's warmth. She dressed as quickly as she could, pulling out a fresh change from the cupboard and drawers. Though her night's laundry had already been cleaned from the floor where they had been dropped, they had not yet been returned fully tendered.

"Can it not wait until the morning?" Severus asked as he sat up in bed, seemingly unbothered by the nip in the air despite the bareness of his chest. Must be that the lifetime of living in a cold damp dungeon granted him some measure of heartiness.

"I could but I'll risk losing my train of thought," Lily answered as she slipped on a pair of fresh undergarments. She was never in such a rush that she couldn't stop to be decent. "You know what my mind's like. Not like yours. I forget."

"Then write it down and get back to bed," Sev grumbled as his shadowed eyes followed her about the room.

Lily struggled a moment, trying to do the sash of her bright purple robe as best as she could in the dark before surrendering and summoning a magical point of light to assist her.

Severus shied away from the brightness, no doubt still bleary-eyed from sleep. Lily approached him, now fully dressed and committed to her decision. "Go back to bed," she whispered with a kiss. They mustn't have been asleep for very long for their breaths to be untouched by the souring of torpor.

Severus' black eyes flashed warningly through his veil of sleep. "Do not do this alone," Sev warned, no doubt recent events had him rattled. "And ensure you have the stone with you."

"I have no intentions of ending up like I had," Lily assured him as she rested a hand upon his. "Trust me."

And trust her he did. Sev withdrew back under their blankets, his black eyes glinting in the light as they followed her but he did not move again to protest.

She was out the door the moment she was respectable, mind whirling with so many ideas that it was hard to grasp just one. By the time she arrived at the foot of that spiral staircase, she thankfully whittled them down to just the one.

One idea, one truth that she knew intimately.

Love could touch the soul.


A/N: Folks, real talk. This chapter is where I have written up to. At the moment, life's gotten in the way a bit. The current climate of the world has a bit to do with it, as it has increased my time spent at work considerably. The other side of that coin is the fact that I've been gaming a little too much again. I'll endeavour to meet the next deadline but know that it may not come to be.

A thank you to my Beta readers Sattwa100 and thrawnca for your work on this chapter.

Next Update: Saturday 26th December 2020.

Chapter 91: A Final Goodbye

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not seek to profit in any way, shape or form from this fan work.