Author's note: Looks like you're the only one still reading this, Miriam. Thank you sooo much! *huggles*

Chapter 34: When You're Sleeping

It's no secret I've been waiting but I didn't expect this
Nothing will remain, nothing stays the same after you came
It's no secret I've been starving, I never felt anything for years
I sat up all night just to watch your smile when you're sleeping…

I was so lucky you picked me
My trash turned to silver

—Roxette: I Was So Lucky

Dumbledore opened the door to the infirmary to look after Sariss. Six days. Six bloody days it was already since she had taken the Dark Lord's soul. And nothing had changed.

Severus hadn't left her side for more than a minute in a row, and only if someone else—namely Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey—was there. If the house-elves hadn't brought him food and drink, he wouldn't even have eaten. He even slept there, sitting in the armchair, his head resting near Sariss's arm, his hand almost always holding hers, no matter how painfully she might squeeze when another tremor rocked through her system. Severus didn't even wince. He was apparently beyond such nuisances as mere pain.

Dumbledore understood him perfectly fine. He would have liked to do the same for Sariss. Be there for her. But he was the headmaster; he had to settle everything. He had called the Ministry people to take care of what had been down in the Chamber. The Death Eaters had been arrested. Dumbledore had given testimony as far as he knew. Harry had been very helpful, too.

But they'd wanted to see Sariss. Dumbledore had refused. He wouldn't let them. Not now. Not if he could help it. They shouldn't see her like this. He would do everything in his power to spare her Azkaban should she live—and he hoped so very much that she would win the war that was being fought inside her body, by her soul, by her sheer will.

She had always been so stubborn… Dumbledore only hoped for her soul to be stubborn enough to remain inside her body and not be driven out to be replaced by a being that had indeed more in common with a demon than a human.

Dumbledore realized he had indeed developed fatherly feelings for her. He'd known that long ago. He'd come to love the little quiet girl. But he'd never have thought he'd come to love her like the daughter he'd never had. Of course, it had been touching when she'd confessed to him that she thought of him as family. But now she might as well be his daughter. His little girl, which she was quite obviously not.

As strange as it was, for years they'd only written each other occasionally—although at least Sariss's had always been very long letters as though she'd wanted to make up for their infrequency. Very emotional ones, although she usually didn't display her feelings openly. Perhaps it was easier for her to write them down in a moment of calmness than to show them, which she didn't, unless she had lost control. It always took her a while to recover from an outburst. Then and only then she showed her feelings openly. But usually she didn't. At least not to the extent to which she had shown them recently. Usually. What kind of word was that now? She hadn't been very 'usual' the last few months—not even in her terms—had she?

She had not been the only one to act unusual.

In a way, deliberately or not, she had put a spell on the embittered Potions master and managed the unthinkable. She'd drawn a smile on his face—and then she'd been the reason for him to even shed tears. To Dumbledore's knowledge, Severus hadn't cried—it sounded stupid when in the same sentence with that man—he hadn't wept for ages. Not in public—and to Severus three, or four people respectively, were public. It was strange that those two had sort of managed to convince themselves that they needed each other—with a little help from Dumbledore—but that, they needn't know. Together they had found a way back into life. Severus more than Sariss, of course.

Severus. This could end in a tragedy if Sariss didn't recover… One could see it in his eyes when he'd looked at her, thought of her. The cold, the emptiness, had left them, despite the fact that Severus found her so very annoying sometimes. That thought made Dumbledore chuckle sadly. Oh, yes, that was what Sariss was like. Annoyingly stubborn sometimes. But the important thing was that she was so much more.

And to Severus Snape she had become everything. One needn't be a mind reader to see that.

If only she'd regain consciousness. The longer it took, the more unlikely it became.

He had to admit that he feared for her. Greatly. Every passing day, every passing hour, the fear increased. But Dumbledore mustn't show it. Not when he had to encourage Severus to not give up on her.

Dumbledore silently closed the door and peered around the curtains that were still shielding Sariss's bed from any curious pair of eyes that might sneak into the hospital wing.

A very familiar image greeted him.

Severus had fallen asleep in exactly the position he had slept in every time he had fallen asleep by Sariss's side.

The book had fallen to the floor.

Almost completely soundlessly, Dumbledore bent down, took it and set it on the bedside table. Sariss's wand was sitting there also.

Then the headmaster tentatively reached out and lightly touched Severus's shoulder so as to wake him without startling him. "Severus."

Snape blinked. "Headmaster," he said wearily. One look at him confirmed how much the current situation was wearing on him. He looked old. There was no other word to describe him with. It seemed he had aged years during the last few days, whereas he had been so obviously feeling young and alive only a week ago. One could see it in his eyes. Was it only hardly a week? Even to Dumbledore it felt much longer than that…

"How are you?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine."

Dumbledore smirked. Of course, he'd say he was fine. In comparison to Sariss, roundabout everyone could reply with that answer.

"Any changes?" A question with little meaning. He couldn't bring himself to sound encouraging anymore. Dumbledore felt he was losing hope more and more each day. But it wasn't his hope or despair that counted. Severus was the one who was with her. She needed him now. More than anyone else.

She didn't need a father. She needed to be—yes, she needed to be needed. And it was Severus who needed her.

"I… I don't know. What time is it?" He must be even more tired than he looked like. "I must have fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon…"

"It's only nine thirty."

~*~*~

Severus nodded and began to wipe her face once more, dabbing the cold sweat from her brow, applying a special potion to her lips that would prevent them from chipping. The water didn't provide enough moisture. Actually, it seemed to have made it worse. Or maybe that was only his impression. After three days—Severus had still been counting back then; how long ago had that been?—it had been so bad that her lips had actually bled—and Severus couldn't bear the sight of blood on her. Not even that single dark red droplet of thick clotting blood that had slithered down her chin.

Now it was much better, he observed. Her lips looked soft again. They even had a slight pinkish tinge to them. Extremely kissable. It was painful how kissable they looked again. And the green mist, too, had stopped emanating from her nose at every breath she took.

"How long have I been sitting here already?" Severus asked.

"You don't know?"

"Time seems to stand still in here," he muttered in reply. "And just look how pretty she is. Even now. She looks—."

Sariss's hands looked relaxed; no more fists. Her arms were lying limply in the restraints. Her lips were slightly parted. Her complexion was still pale but no longer as waxen as it had been. His eyes must be deceiving him. She looked as though she were only asleep, completely relaxed…

"Headmaster, is she…"

The old man pushed him to the side and bent over her, touching her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her throat…

"She's not dead. She's sleeping," he said simply. He sounded… stunned. Amazed. And—relieved? "Nothing more, nothing less. She's asleep—or rather she was."

Severus rushed around the bed to the other side so he could see her. Sariss's eyelids fluttered; she gave a very soft moan.

"Tell Poppy to bring a simple Sleeping Potion. Sariss needs rest. She doesn't have the strength to wake up fully. A few more days should do. Then we'll see if—."

Severus turned on his heels to rush to get the nurse, but stopped dead when he thought he heard the most beautiful voice he could imagine at the moment, the voice he had been yearning to hear for how many days?

"Severus…" It was barely audible. If it hadn't been for the soft hiss of the letter S, he wouldn't have heard it at all.

"Sariss!" he exclaimed hoarsely and grabbed hold of one of her hands. "Sariss, I'm here, love. I'm here." He lavished kisses on her knuckles.

She moaned softly, managing an almost imperceptible smile and tried to open her eyes. A green glimmer was visible for a moment, then they fell shut again. Before she lost the little consciousness she'd had, Severus thought he heard her breathe, "Love you…"

"Headmaster, what—?"

"I think our questions are answered, Severus," the old man said, gently stroking Sariss's forehead. Severus could see tears in his eyes, but a very relieved smile lit up his old face. "She fought, and it seems that she won." Dumbledore blinked back a tear. "Go and get Poppy. She'll be glad to be able to help again."

Severus hurried to get Madam Pomfrey. On his way out, he heard the headmaster speak calmly to Sariss, "Sleep, dear, everything is well in order. You did it. You did fine. Everything is being taken care of. Nothing to worry about. Sleep, dearie. We're all watching over you…"

~*~*~

Within a matter of only a few minutes, Severus rushed back in with Madam Pomfrey at his heels.

"Headmaster, is it true?"

"Yes, Poppy, yes, it is true. Sariss seems fine, but I fear she's too weak to wake up. And you know how stubborn she is. She's trying either way, even in her barely conscious state."

"Of course," Madam Pomfrey smiled. "She wants to wake up no matter what. I have just the thing she needs—."

"Or rather the two things." Dumbledore winked.

Severus didn't even have the energy to blush or throw him an annoyed glance.

Madam Pomfrey drew a phial out of her pocket and administered a bit of the lilac potion that was inside to Sariss. It went well; Sariss didn't refuse taking it in the slightest.

"Here, Severus. Every few hours, give her a bit of that potion." Severus accepted the proffered phial. "It's only a light Sleeping Draught—very much diluted—although I think it hardly necessary to tell you that. Only a few drops every few hours. I daresay she's in safe hands with you. The potion and the Potions master. What could go wrong with that combination?"

"Especially with this Potions master watching over her," Dumbledore said. Severus could hear the smile in the old man's voice.

Severus felt too relieved to join the conversation. He could only look at Sariss. His Sleeping Beauty. Alive and recovering. Hopefully.

She was still magically bound to the bed.

Dumbledore made the bonds vanish as if he'd read Snape's thoughts.

Better. Much better.

Now she didn't look like a raving lunatic anymore.

"I think this is our cue to leave, Poppy," said Dumbledore. The long-absent twinkle had returned to his ice-blue eyes.

"How long?" Severus asked. A thought had sprung to his mind. "How long will she—?"

"Oh, for just a few more days, Severus. Don't worry. Poppy will look after the two of you and I'll drop in again tomorrow. At last I can look forward to a good night's sleep again."

"Good night, Severus. I'll be dropping in from time to time to give her some soup and such."

Severus nodded. "Good night," he muttered in reply.

The door closed after them. And once more, Severus was alone with Sariss. But it couldn't be any more different than from a few hours ago.

Sariss would live—and above all, she would be herself. It seemed that he was too happy to express it.

Instead, he took her hand—her warm hand—and lavished another set of kisses on it.

She felt completely natural. Perfectly human…

So warm and alive.

Past Evil shall be made undone, remember?

Perhaps…

Severus gaze fell on her nightgown. Dumbledore had brought it days (?) ago. Maybe now was the right time to make her comfortable, now that she wasn't bound anymore, now that she could appreciate it. After all, Severus had run out of ideas as to what to do with her, what to tell her. He couldn't beg her to come back anymore, he couldn't tell her to fight any longer. The only thing that he could tell her was that he was there—but he'd said it so often, even to himself he sounded like a scratched record.

Thus, he took the hospital gown off her. Very carefully. She felt so light, so fragile, to him, so precious. Had it ever before been that easy to lift her up? She'd never been exactly heavy, but now she was hardly there. She must have lost quite a few pounds of weight. How come he hadn't realized until now? Of course. He had been there all the time. One simply didn't notice those things when they happened before one's very eyes.

He couldn't keep himself from letting his hands wander over her body as he made to slip the gown over her head, insert her arms into the long silken sleeves, lifting her up so he could draw it down right to her ankles. That's why she loved it so much; it enveloped her but it seemed to be hardly there when she spent the night with him.

It was as if he were dressing a living and breathing doll. She was pliant yet frail.

Her collarbones seemed to stand out, as well as her ribs and the bones of her hips. But she was so warm and soft. He could feel the blood pulsing through her veins.

Very familiar and quite indecent thoughts dreaded to invade his mind. He shook them off and quickly finished his task. Yes, the nightgown was a bit large for her now, but it wasn't too bad. She could still wear it. It would be a pity if she didn't. She liked it very much. It had been rather tight fitting around her chest earlier; now it looked a bit more decent on her, but nonetheless perfect. Innocent but seductive. How was that possible at all?

And it was much better than the hospital gown. Softer and shinier. And for the first time, it didn't blend in almost perfectly with her skin. No, the silk was so white, it emphasised the slight pinkish shimmer that seemed to glow all around Sariss now. She was glowing with life, as though life had to make up for something it had missed out on her. And it had. But no more—.

Once again, realization struck like a bolt of lightning.

She had performed the Kiss…

She had killed Voldemort…

And Severus had been her partner in crime…

He had cast Avada Kedavra…

They still had his wand to even prove it in addition to what Potter might have told them…

They'd both be going to Azkaban. There was no doubt. It would be madness to think that the Ministry would make a difference between a life and a life. Would justice be blind to the fact that the life they'd ended together had been the Dark Lord's? Probably. To justice, a life was a life, no matter if it belonged to an innocent child or to the most dangerous Dark wizard since Grindelwald whom Dumbledore had defeated in a wizard's duel. But they had killed in cold blood. Severus had seen very few people who'd killed as cold-bloodedly as Sariss had done it. No angry words, no tantrums, no tortures. So dispassionate. Like the Angel of Death. Without emotions. One might as well have put her under the Imperius Curse. She couldn't have acted with less feeling if one had commanded her to.

A life is still a life…

Would Dumbledore find a way out of this mess?

Better get accustomed to the thought of going to Azkaban.

So that had been what she had fought for, what he had begged her to fight for? All the time he had been telling her that the future was waiting for her, for them, the two of them together, completely oblivious to the ninety-nine percent certain life sentence they'd have to face. Both of them. Separated. Was that what they had bargained for? Rid the world of Voldemort and then die in Azkaban fortress while the rest of the wizarding world enjoyed the peace and freedom she'd given back to them?

Severus felt that rush of emptiness again. He wasn't even angry. He wasn't furious. Shouldn't he be angry and furious? Shouldn't he feel more than nothing tinged with only a bit of sadness and disappointment and the fear of losing her one way or the other?

He looked at the peacefully sleeping figure. Yet, she was totally unaware of what was to come. As soon as she regained consciousness…

My Sariss… Let's not think about those things now. Let's pretend there could be a happily ever after. Let's forget the cruel world for now.

Could they try to run away? Fly away into a faraway land where the skies were always blue and the grass was always green?

Could they?

No. Magic like hers would be easily detected.

And there was the fact that, deep inside, Severus knew that justice must be served. Severus knew he deserved it; he had committed enough crimes to justify any verdict.

Sariss, however, did not. She had become the plaything of the fates. None of it had been her decision. That much was perfectly clear. And she had said something along those lines herself. She had been drawn into the Chamber, drawn to Voldemort, drawn to act out the plan that had formed in her mind; a plan that everyone in his or her right mind would have called ridiculous—yet it had worked.

And that was commonly called 'Fate'.

My Sariss…

For the first time in a week—Was it only a week? Was it a week already?—he bent over her and dared to blow a kiss on her lips. Mmm… Soft and sweet. He allowed himself to let his lips linger on hers for a moment because it had been so long since he had done this. Memories washed over him, eliminating every thought about Azkaban and separation from her.

A few more days.

Severus gave her another small dose of Sleeping Potion, smoothed back her hair and rested his palm against her cheek. She felt so different, so much warmer than he was used to, that he almost thought she was feverish again. But she wasn't. She was merely radiant.

He smiled as he sat down in his usual armchair and rested his head on the mattress, the same spot he had been sleeping in for days on end. Gently, he laced his fingers with hers and closed his tired eyes, letting sleep overcome him.

What he wouldn't give for another night in a comfortable bed with her in his arms…

Sleeping…

He'd lavish every kind of care and attention on her as soon as she woke up…

She was alive…

He'd stay with her until she woke up—or should he slip away when Madam Pomfrey was there and get something for her? A present perhaps? Something to welcome her back? A sign that he had never lost hope—although he had done so frequently (but that she needn't know).

Victorious…

And very likely to spend an as of yet undefined amount of time in Azkaban fortress…

No one could tell how much time would be left before the trial. But he'd pretend they wouldn't be tried and sent to Azkaban. He'd pretend that everything would be fine, and if there were nothing else that Severus Snape was good at, he'd still be the master of pretence. For her sake, he'd start pretending again.

Because practice makes perfect—and practice he'd had for years—although this time he'd have to deceive himself.

~*~*~

After another few days during which Dumbledore had often come to the infirmary to look after Sariss and Severus, he felt it was enough.

Sariss looked healthier than ever. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips a healthy strawberry red, her body warm. And she had also gained a bit of her lost weight. Not all of it, but enough to make her more than skin and bone.

"Can't we let her wake up now? How many days has it been? Five, six?" Severus asked. "Do you want to keep her in a coma so they won't come for her?"

Of course, he'd bring it up some time or other. Dumbledore had taken the necessary steps. He had written several letters to several influential people. What else could he do? It was not justice that they should suffer in Azkaban when they had saved so many innocent lives. Only one lawyer had to find a loophole, a single sentence that wasn't clear as Veritaserum… He only hoped they'd find one and that they'd find it fast.

Dumbledore pretended to not have heard Snape's last question. It was no use trying to invoke hope when there might be none. The reply-letters hadn't arrived yet. Not all of them.

"It is enough potion, Poppy. I think it is time to let her decide if she needs more rest," he said. "And I have some very important business to attend to, business that concerns us all."

That said, he left the infirmary. He could almost feel Severus's eyes boring into the back of his head as he did so.

~*~*~

Sariss blinked several times; her eyelids seemed so very heavy to her that it took her quite a while to even force them open far enough to be able to see whose hand it was that was holding hers, what was tickling the skin on her bare forearm.

As soon as her mind had processed where she was (Hogwarts; the infirmary—although it was rather dark in there), who was sitting—or rather sleeping—in an armchair next to her bed, his head resting on the mattress, his hand clutching hers (Severus), it came back to her what had happened—although she was a bit unsure about the details, especially the ones concerning the events that had followed her grabbing the Dark Lord by the throat and… She shuddered at the thought—but had it worked?

Severus stirred at her movement and slowly raised his head. He looked weary, dark circles were under his tired eyes; the line between his eyes was clearly visible as his brows were furrowed in an expression of deep worry. But his face lightened up when he saw that her eyes were open.

"Sariss," he whispered, tentatively running a hand over her face, her hair. "Do you know who I am, where you are?"

"Severus," she said softly, raising her hand to clasp it over his. It was quite an effort. It seemed so very heavy. "You look tired, Severus. How are you?"

"I've had some bad nights."

She smiled. "I'm here now."

"That's all I wanted." His voice broke. "I kept thinking I'd lost you, although, after a few very long days, Dumbledore said you'd be alright—."

"I am."

"I've missed you so much. I can't tell you how much I've been missing everything about you."

"What happened?" Sariss asked, her voice hoarse. She must have been out for quite some time…

"You don't remember?"

"Only until a certain point. I still remember that I was going to… kiss… him, grabbing him by the throat… and then… darkness, nothing, as though a candle were blown out…" she whispered. It seemed strange to her to speak any louder in an almost completely dark room. Apparently, it was nighttime. A single, lonely candle was floating near the two of them.

"Do you remember anything in-between?"

"What do you mean?" Sariss asked, confused. It seemed her brain had to re-learn how to follow a conversation.

"You were out for quite some time," he explained, "but I always had the impression that you were somehow there. You were fighting, weren't you?" He clasped her hand tightly, as if he'd never let go. "What was it like?"

Sariss thought hard. "It was… it… as if I had left my body for some time. But at some point, I was back in and was pushed out again… And I think I heard your voice—but I can't remember what you said—and I saw you. Does that even make sense? And I saw my body. It was like floating. I thought I was dead and lingering. Then I saw you hold my hand and I saw the tears in your eyes and I refused to leave. I'd never seen you cry over something before. No one had ever cried over me… I forced myself back into my body although something tried to keep me from it. That something managed to tear me out of myself several times. And then I was gone again. And then… Severus, I think it was him! I think he wanted my body for himself! Oh, I can't remember… You're probably thinking that I'm talking madness, but I'm afraid he'll get power over me still."

He shook his head ever so slightly. "No. He won't. You did it. You made it," Severus said, a very serious expression on his face. "You… took his soul—and I took his life, as you asked me to. And now you've destroyed him completely."

"Is he dead? Really gone? As in 'never to return'?" Sariss asked, a bit afraid that it might not be over despite everything. When dealing with Voldemort you couldn't be sure enough…

"Yes."

"How can you know?" she breathed. "For all I see is that he might still be here in spirit and try to get me as soon as I fall asleep."

"He won't. You made it. Dumbledore is certain of that. As to the Dark Lord's overdue demise… First, we have his body," Severus answered patiently. "Second…" He pulled up the sleeve to reveal his left forearm.

"The Dark Mark is gone," Sariss whispered, sitting up slowly since her muscles seemed a little sore. She groaned. A few long days, huh? When Severus moved to help her she shook her head no and after a brief struggle, mind over matter, she managed to hoist herself up into a sitting position, her joints protesting with cracking sounds as she did so. Nonetheless, she noticed that she felt… yes, good, surprisingly good—a very strange feeling—and hesitantly reached for the spot on Severus's skin where the Mark had been sitting, livid, the last time she had seen his arm. The skin there was perfect. There wasn't even a faint shadow. Tentatively touching him, she closed her eyes in relief as the realization sank in. "Then it's really over."

"Yes. It's been gone since you'd regained consciousness for a few moments. It's not simply faded as it had when he first fell. It's as if it had never been there," he said, a sad look flitting across his features and a sombre tinge to his voice, as he reached for both her hands and covered them with his. "Sariss…"

She caught on and gulped. "We'll have to suffer the consequences…" Sariss whispered, wide-eyed, squeezing Severus's hand tightly, as though he could save her from Azkaban; but he wouldn't even be able to save himself… Tears threatened as she looked at him; his eyes were firmly on their entwined hands. "I'm so sorry, Severus. I shouldn't have asked you in a moment when you couldn't possibly refuse to—."

"Shh," he said, embracing her, his fingers splayed against her back as though he wanted to cover as much of her as was humanly possible as he crushed her against his body that was so familiar to her. He rested his head on her shoulder, burying his face in her surprisingly well-kempt hair (He must have been taking care of it during her unexpected time-out). It was a gesture that made Sariss, despite herself, smile and sigh with contentment. She put her arms around him, too. It took her quite some effort to only slide them around his waist and up his back.

But she felt so very strange… Why was it that she felt so different, so free, so clear in mind all of a sudden?

"I knew perfectly well what I was doing down there. I knew what it would mean for either one of us if we survived. Perhaps, by doing this, I can forgive myself a few of the things I've done…" Severus continued. "Maybe this is about redemption."

"Despite everything I may have said, Severus, I'm afraid, I'm scared, even more than I was of Voldemort," she said, her voice muffled as she still held onto him as tightly as she could, which wasn't that tightly after all. "Afraid."

"I know. So am I," he whispered into her hair.

"I don't want to end up there. They can't do that. We killed the worst thing the wizarding world has ever seen. Please, Severus, please. Don't let them."

"Dumbledore will speak for us. I don't know whether this will be enough."

She drew back a bit to be able to look into his unfathomable eyes. "What do you think it's going to be like in Azkaban?" she asked, shivering at the mere thought of it.

"I know what it used to be like. It was only a few days…" he trailed off. It was weird. If it hadn't been for the slight tremble in his voice, Sariss wouldn't have known that he actually meant, 'I was there. It was worse than death.'

I won't survive Azkaban, Sariss thought. The mere thought of it—with or without the Dementors—makes me want to die. I should be dead. I'll die in Azkaban and he won't even know unless they carry my dead body past his cell. Would he even recognize me?

Sariss felt her eyes sting. Hot tears slithered down her face.

"There are no longer any Dementors there. It won't be that bad, I'm sure—unless they are allowed to return. And I fear they will," he said, not only his voice betraying him. He clearly didn't believe a great deal of what he'd just said. But either way, his voice washed over her like a thousand caresses. She couldn't remember a time when his voice hadn't been there, all of a sudden.

"But either way it's going to be enough to be separated from you, you know? I don't want that, Sariss. I… I love you," he whispered as if he were speaking a prayer. "I want you to know that this is the truth. I should have said this much earlier and much more often."

"I love you, too. Much more than I can say," Sariss was very much aware that desperation had crept into her voice, but seemed unable to make her voice sound firm or just remotely steady. She raised her hands to his face, then, after a few seconds of locking her blurred, tearstained gaze with his, she closed her eyes to hold back more tears, running her fingertips over the contours of his face, like a blind man would do, so as to never forget what he looked like, what he felt like…

He didn't even commentate on the fact that she was crying again. Maybe he had gotten used to it? Maybe he knew that her tears were not for herself alone, that they were for them both?

He mimicked her action, gently running his thumbs over her cheekbones, touching her eyes, her lips, cupping her face after a while—and Sariss knew what it meant when he did that. He had always done that, almost every time they had shared a kiss—and he kissed her now, very tenderly, as though he had never even touched her before. But Sariss wanted more. Who knew how long they would take to come and separate them for a very long time, perhaps forever? And thus she slid her arms around his neck, opening her mouth under his and drawing him into a kiss as passionate and intense as she could manage, weakened that she was, melting into him, imprinting her lips on his as well as his on hers.

She was drowning in his scent and taste. If she had her way, this kiss would last for all eternity…

When they finally broke the kiss, Severus kissed her forehead, pulled her against his chest, gently smoothing her hair back from her face, and rested his hand on the spot on her throat where her pulse was beating, running his thumb along her jaw line over and over again as he held her there. Sariss could feel her own heartbeat against his hand.

"All my life I had nothing—until you came…" he whispered as though she weren't listening. "I am going to lose you, Sariss. After all that we've been through, after everything that you survived, I am still going to lose you."

She didn't answer; she only nestled into his embrace, trying to memorize everything about him, even the scent of his robes and the rhythm of his breathing, yes, even the sound of his heartbeat if something like that was possible at all.

Both of them didn't know how long they sat there—minutes or hours, it didn't matter—in utter silence, when the door of the infirmary creaked open and the headmaster stepped in.

"Ah, so Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened!" he cried out cheerfully at the sight of the two of them, making Sariss blush despite the rather grave situation, while Severus gently extricated himself from her—granted, very weak—grasp.

"How are you, my dear?" Dumbledore asked, pulling her into a hug that clearly expressed that this was not meant as the usual meaningless greeting to which no one really expected an honest answer anyway.

"I'm fine," Sariss croaked when he had released her again, and wiped away her tears. "Never been better—as strange as this might sound—but for the crying bit."

"Ah, but it doesn't. You see, something quite remarkable occurred when you did what you did…" he began, lighting some more candles with some flicks of his wrist. "But perhaps I should start at the beginning of the explanation that I have for all of this…"

Sariss nodded and sniffed softly.

"Now, how to explain all of this… Hmm…" he muttered thoughtfully. "The effects of the Angel Potion combined with the Delego Facultatem Spell are very well known by everyone present, aren't they?"

Severus and Sariss exchanged a look and then nodded slowly.

"Right then, as far as I can tell now, it is the case that they were somehow connected; one could not work without the other, which has as a result that part of Voldemort's soul and his power were directly linked to the Dementor bit that was inside of you—."

"Excuse me, did you say 'was'?"

"What? Oh, yes. I said it was inside of you, since, you see, it is gone. That's why you feel so good… You're not even cold, are you?"

Sariss thought for a moment then shook her head and said a very slow "No…" She wiped her face again.

Dumbledore smiled. "For the first time since the day he came for you his shadow doesn't loom over your soul."

"But what happened really?" Severus joined the conversation. "You refused to—."

"I haven't forgotten, Severus. And I promise I'll tell you everything I know as well as what I suspected, which might just be the same thing," the headmaster said patiently. "But we have to go back to the night of Voldemort's first fall… As we all know, the Dark Lord couldn't be killed completely back then, he had only been weakened, but why that was so, we didn't know until a very short time ago. The point is, Sariss, that Voldemort gave a part of his soul to you, so when his spirit was ripped from his body by the curse rebounding off little Harry he did not dissolve into nothingness—or wherever it is that the really dead people go—because a part of him still lived on—."

"Inside of me," Sariss finished for him.

"Exactly. However, something very extraordinary happened when you did—pardon my choice of words—what you were created for. By taking his soul from him—the part that he still possessed—you united it with the part he had administered to you all those years ago. His soul became whole but couldn't go back into his body because it was locked inside of you no matter how hard it fought against you. Then, because of the Dementor part, you devoured it—not a pretty sight, I can tell you."

"Then I'm actually glad that I don't remember," Sariss stated dryly, chancing looks at Dumbledore and Severus.

"Only by uniting the parts of his soul inside of you he could be vanquished," Dumbledore continued. "In creating you he created his survival of seventeen years ago—but he left you unfinished because you fought. He couldn't take you with him and finish it—whatever it would have been that would have been needed. The part of his soul, it was never embedded in your soul. That's why you were his survival back then as well as his ultimate destruction—twelve, I think… yes—twelve days ago. In the process of uniting and destroying his soul, the spell he'd cursed you with and the effect of the potion he'd administered to you were reversed." He smiled broadly, his blue eyes twinkling even more merrily than ever before. "You're perfectly normal now—for a witch anyway—as though he had never come for you—at least physically. That means that there might be a few things you have grown so accustomed to might not work anymore—like, say, wandless magic."

"I can't do it anymore?"

"Try it. You might just have it in you, even without his powers. You're the heiress of two of the Founders. That should count for something, don't you think?"

Sariss looked around for an object to summon. Her gaze fell on her wand, which was sitting on the bedside table. Someone—Harry Potter had used it last—must have put it there… She lifted her hand, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and concentrated hard. Then she opened her eyes again to see if something was happening…

Nothing at first. She tried concentrating harder and the wand started trembling. Then the thought occurred to her that she might just have to really use a spell to summon it although that had not been a strict necessity earlier on, and she whispered, "Accio, wand." At that, the wand flew right into her hand.

"Wonderful! Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Perhaps it's true what they say, practice does make perfect. And you've had very much practice, I daresay."

"What else has changed?"

"We'll see…" Dumbledore said and patted her hand. "Oh, and I have received a letter this afternoon—with some very important news for the two of you. Silly me. I'm getting old after all. I had almost forgotten—."

"The Ministry people are acting fast when there's no need to, aren't they?" Severus muttered.

Sariss sadly shook her head, in denial of what was to come. Yet, she didn't regret that she had rid the world of this monster. If only there had been another way… "When will they be here?" she asked softly, dreading the answer. Most likely, he'd reply 'in the morning' or something like that…

"But no, my dears, no one is going to take you anywhere without your consent. You see, neither one of you will be tried because of what happened down there." Dumbledore twinkled merrily as Sariss and Severus threw each other nervous glances and smiled if only slightly, incredulous but happy—if only cautiously happy. "Is that not a highly pleasant surprise?"

Snape spoke up first, the smile fading, replaced by an expression of puzzlement. "Why? It means Azkaban when you cast an Unforgivable, when you kill. And I did, you know this, headmaster, and not just this once down there. I told you…"

"That almost sounds as though you wanted to be thrown into Azkaban."

"I deserve it…" Severus said, lacing his fingers through Sariss's as she'd reached for his hand. She said nothing; she only clasped his hand as tightly as she could. He needn't be told in words. He'd know what she wanted to say.

"No, you don't," Dumbledore said aloud what Sariss had been only thinking. "If anyone here must be forgiven, it is you. You redeemed yourself a long time ago. When the whole world forgives you, don't you think it's time to finally forgive yourself for giving in to the Darkness once? You've found the Light again. Not many in your situation would have found the strength to do so—but you did. You saved far more lives than you destroyed—and you rescued and supported a lost soul until it was found again, thus rediscovering your own."

Severus took a deep breath. Then he nodded, bringing Sariss's hand to his lips to kiss it. She closed her eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the caress. "What about her?" he murmured, looking at Dumbledore over her hand that he was still holding so close to his face that Sariss could feel his breath.

Dumbledore turned towards her. "Your case, Sariss, has been much more complicated; yet it has also been much simpler in a certain respect."

"I beg your pardon?" Sariss asked, confused at what he'd just said.

"You see, this has never happened before. There is not a single law that would fit the recent events in any way. No Dementor has ever been put on trial for performing the Kiss on someone. And no wizard—or witch," he added with a wink, "—has ever performed the Kiss for more or less obvious reasons."

"So I'm not going to be sent to Azkaban," she said slowly, letting it sink in. She had to say it herself to believe it was true. "I won't be forced to—."

"No, certainly not. On the contrary…" Dumbledore interrupted her, got up and took a few steps towards the door. "Oh, I believe this is yours," he said, smiling, and held out a wand for Severus to take, which he did. Had they taken Severus's wand? It must have been a very close shave… "I'll leave you two alone now to do—whatever it is you do when I'm not in the proximity," the headmaster added, throwing them a somewhat wicked glance over his shoulder.

Their faces, that had seconds ago only worn expressions of great relief, blushed furiously, somewhat shocked at what he insinuated—and that they heard something like this come from him. They heard Dumbledore chuckle as he closed the door behind him.

~*~*~

Sariss started sniggering as the door snapped shut. "He must have been waiting his whole life to say that gratuitous line…" she grinned at Severus. Then a thoughtful look crossed her face and she bit her lip like she always did when she was thinking or… up to something. "Hmm. I wonder what could have given him the impression that we'd be doing something."

It was strange to see her smile so broadly when only a few minutes ago she had looked as though she would break down any second. Now, although her eyes were red and swollen, she looked as though she'd burst with life and love and happiness…

"I, too, have no idea," Severus answered in a deadly serious voice. But he deliberately betrayed himself by his actions. He placed her arms around his neck and drew her into an embrace, his face now only an inch or so away from hers. "Let's try and find out what exactly he was talking about."

And he kissed her as her hands cupped his face, then moved into his hair. He knew she just loved entwining her fingers in his hair just as much he liked to completely entangle himself in hers and—he had to admit—he liked it, too.

Sariss sighed into his mouth—a sure sign that she enjoyed every single fraction of a second—and melted into his arms the way she'd always done it. Her lips were searing. The heat of her body seeped through the silken nightgown. Her hands left trails of fire on his neck. She felt the complete opposite of what she'd felt only a fortnight ago. But in all likelihood, that was only the change. She was still as soft as he remembered her to be. She still fit into his arms as if she belonged there. And, most importantly, she still wanted to be there.

They would not be separated. They would not be sent to Azkaban. They would be able to be together, to share kisses, to make love whenever they felt like it—.

"What do you think you're doing, Severus Snape? She needs rest!" Madam Pomfrey's voice disturbed the silence. She must have entered without the two of them noticing.

Sariss and Severus almost jumped apart and looked at her—but not for long. Sariss turned her head back to Severus and gave him one of those slow looks—meaning that she slowly raised her eyes to his, looking so very deep into his… Her eyes had kept the emerald-coloured ring around the now very much dilated pupils—Avada Kedavra-green…

And the little temptress was biting her lip again!

"You two are even worse than the students," Madam Pomfrey rambled on. "The scenes I've witnessed—."

She must have noticed that Sariss and Severus were still flirting, completely absorbed in each other.

"Oh, get a room!" she shouted in despair.

"Splendid idea," Severus said, looking deep into those green pools of Sariss's eyes and raising his eyebrow. She giggled. How lovely she was now, even more lovely than before all of this had happened. Her eyes sparkling, her face radiant, her whole body language completely different, much more relaxed and open. In essence: Even a blind man could have seen how free she was now.

"Then I may leave?" Sariss asked, chancing a sideways glance at Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes, you may, dear. But be careful. You were out for twelve days, remember? You've been through quite something. I almost thought we'd lost you…" Madam Pomfrey apparently had to blink back a tear or two as she said that. "I don't think you'll be able to walk on your own just yet."

"Oh, don't give me that, Poppy. I've never felt better," Sariss said. "Twelve days," she repeated.

She drew back the blankets and breathed an obvious sigh of relief that she wore one of her own nightgowns and not the hospital stuff, throwing Severus a glance of gratefulness. Then, she heavily swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lowered her feet to the floor, wincing at its coldness. Probing her balance, she stood still for a few seconds. "See? I'm going to be fine," she said, taking some careful steps—or rather she had intended to do so. Her knees buckled as soon as she had released her hold on the bed.

Severus quickly caught her and helped her sit down again. "Can't remember the difference between floor and ceiling, can you?" he said, taking off his cloak and handing it to her to put on. She couldn't walk through the castle only clad in a—at second look—rather flimsy but nonetheless very lovely nightgown, could she?

She fastened the clasp of the cloak, then looked up again, wrinkled her nose at him and rolled her eyes. "Well, alright, then I'm not going to walk out of here—I do not think I can walk anywhere." And throwing him a pleading glance, she bit her lip and added. "Er… If you'd be so kind as to…"

"Most certainly." He swept her up into his arms, a position and location that she must have grown used to by now. "Where to, Miss?"

"My place or yours?" she drawled.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. A smile had crept on her face.

"Yours then," Severus said. "I'm afraid my chambers haven't been heated for almost a fortnight. You'd freeze some very valuable parts of your body if I took you there."

The hint of a grin tugged on Sariss's lips. "Alright, but remember, I'm not responsible for the state they might be in. The dust bunnies must be throwing parties in there already."

"Well, then we'll spoil theirs and make one of our own…" he replied, heading for the exit. "Er… if you'd be so kind, Poppy—?" He jerked his head in direction of the door.

"Of course. I wouldn't want you to drop my patient," Madam Pomfrey said, opening the door for them.

As soon as Severus had stepped through the doorway, Sariss stated, "Now I'm not your patient anymore, Poppy. Thank you."

Madam Pomfrey smiled, nodded and closed the door. After a second, the door opened again. "And you, Severus Snape, take good care of her, will you?" she shouted after them, sternly. "If a single complaint about your behaviour reaches my ears—."

Severus turned around and raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever done anything else than taken good care of her?" he said, trying to sound highly offended. The nurse gave him a dirty look. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he added with a smirk.

Poppy tsked and closed the door again—a bit louder than strictly necessary, perhaps—whereas Sariss snorted and broke into another fit of the giggles. Oh, how her soft laughter echoed through the corridors, how her eyes sparkled, how warm she was in his arms—and how very light and frail. She had lost not only the strength the Angel Potion had given her, she had indeed lost quite some weight during the last days; it had not only been Severus's first impression—what with all this soul-destroying-business and fighting against the Dark part of herself wasn't much of a surprise. She had been very lucky to survive—and Severus felt he, too, was very lucky because of this. Yes, he was a very lucky and thus a very happy man. Fortuna had finally smiled on him, on the two of them. Life wasn't that bad; it had improved considerably. In fact, life was good—.

The door opened once more. "And if you bully her into any… um… exhausting activities—you know, ones she would most likely not complain about—."

"Who? Me?" Severus asked, trying to look innocent and mildly offended that she really thought he'd be capable of mistreating one of her patients so badly.

"Poppy, I'm here, don't talk to Severus about me as though I weren't listening," Sariss said, suppressing her laughter. "I can't even walk on my own, for heaven's sake!"

"As far as I can tell from what I've just witnessed inside this room, I wouldn't put anything beyond you."

Sariss threw her a dirty look.

Madam Pomfrey groaned. "I'm trying to do my job and do I hear a sincere thank you? No."

"Thank you very much, Madam."

"Couldn't have made it without you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Certainly not," she answered sternly. Then a smile crept across her face. "You're welcome—and now leave before something else crosses my mind." She closed the door again, hopefully for good, this time. "You need rest!" Madam Pomfrey shouted through the closed door, and Sariss rolled her eyes.

Severus shook his head with silent laughter as Sariss started giggling softly against his throat. Yes, life was indeed good for a change.

He mentally crossed his fingers so that this state may be one to last, as he headed for her chambers. They were only a short distance away.

Once they were inside, he asked. "Where to now? The sofa or the bed?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight… The bedroom it is then."

"Exactly," she yawned. As much as she had slept, she was still exhausted.

Severus sat her down into an armchair while he pulled back the covers. "No dust bunny party after all," he stated.

"Then you should perhaps check your chambers…" Sariss said.

"Oh, I have been there. Soon after Dumbledore said you'd be fine, I thought I could leave you alone for a few minutes. I had a few things to do and I wouldn't have wanted you to faint when you laid eyes upon me, unwashed and unshaved as I was—and I was also very afraid that you'd turn my hair pink…" he trailed off, turning and walking back to her.

Sariss smirked. "I might not have recognized you, then?"

"Possibly," he replied, picking her up again and setting her onto the bed. With a bit of effort she shrugged off the cloak and settled into a very comfortable looking position.

Severus tugged her in and then picked up the cloak and threw it over the back of the armchair. Then he turned to leave, to let her sleep, and looking back once more, he whispered, "Good night, love."

"You're leaving, Severus?" She sat up, so that she faced him, and patted the empty space on the mattress next to her. "Come here. Stay with me. Please."

"You need rest."

"And I intend to rest, really, I promise. I'm up to nothing, I swear." He gave her a disbelieving look. "In the state I'm in I couldn't even properly wrap—."

"Stop. This is hard enough without you making all those images pop up inside my head."

"Just kidding." She smiled tiredly. "Please, Severus, I just want to be with you. I want you to hold me, to wake me up if I should dream…"

"Alright," he said and took off his robe. Then he slipped under the blankets and pulled her close. She settled into the sleeping position they seemed to have mutely agreed to—and actually slid her hand inside his shirt, which he had kept on. "Sariss, what have we agreed to?"

"I don't remember," she mumbled.

Her hand was so soft and warm…

"You're such a wench. Playing with me like that. I should have left when I still had the chance…" he mock-scolded her.

"I know. I am so depraved."

"Smouldering temptress," he teasingly accused her.

"Smouldering?" she muttered. "That's something new."

"Not that I'd want you to be any different—but Madam Pomfrey will have my head if she notices any signs on you that could point to the fact that you haven't been resting enough… Such as a look of extreme satisfaction, for example."

"Finally! Caught in the act! I always knew your ego was way too big for you." Sariss giggled and put her other hand over his mouth before he could answer the very reply this statement desperately ached for. Severus smiled. If she'd given him the chance to do so, she wouldn't have been able to stop laughing, as she seemed rather giggly at the moment. Perhaps an after-effect of the diluted Sleeping Draught?

After she had composed herself again, she added in a voice that sounded perfectly innocent, "Then I'll do my very best not to affect your self-control too deeply." She shifted to remove her hand from inside his shirt, but he caught it before she could do so. It was nice. Extremely nice.

"I'd rather have your hand here where it's under control than anywhere else. And don't you dare shift your weight an inch," he threatened playfully, placing her hand back on his chest and holding it there. "I can't believe that even in your exhausted state you—."

"Just kidding. But I do wish I weren't. If I had the strength to do what my mind seems to deliberately torment me with…"

"Same here; believe me."

"Do you think it'll feel different now that I'm normal?" she asked softly. A certain shyness was back. He could hardly wait to kiss it away. Time and time again and deliciously slowly, bordering on decadence, he'd explore her anew…

Severus mentally shook himself. Those thoughts were doing him not much good now—and wouldn't for quite a few days.

He settled for a mildly amused, "I don't think you'll ever be exactly normal, Sariss."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I know. And I'm telling you this again. I never really cared about what you were. And now to me it isn't of that great an importance that you're normal, as you put it," he said. "But I'm the happiest man ever as long as you're there. No matter what and who you are. I think what I really mean is, I'm happy when you're happy."

"You know, people don't always know when they're happy, but I think I am."

"Good night, Sariss, sleep well. I love you." Every time he said it out loud, it seemed to sound so strange to his ears…

Strange, because, amazingly, it was true.

"I'll try… And thank you."

"What for?"

"Missing me."

Next chapter:

Sariss's recovery proceeds quickly; Severus treats her like a very much breakable object. Poppy declares Sariss fit for attending a celebration. Sirius, Remus and a lot of Weasleys. And Severus dances the tango…