A/N: While this is not a romance, I've had requests to post pairings early in the chapters for reference purposes. So it looks like so far at least friendships occur or had occurred in the past between Snape/Hermione, Snape/OC, Harry/Tonks, Ron/Luna, Lupin/Andromeda. Romance for sure between Ron/Luna, Lupin/Andromeda, Harry/Tonks, Snape/Lily Evans (past), Snape/OC (past). Implied future between Snape and Hermione, but they will not get together in this story. I am trying to be original despite the vast number of fanfictions out there, particularly putting Hermione and Snape together. If you want a quick read this story isn't for you as it will end up around 40 chapters. It also is going to remain PG-13 for the most part, so if you want more adult romance, you aren't going to find it here. Sorry to be so brisk, just trying to help.
Dreams and thoughts are in italics to make it easier.
Chapter One-The Silvery Blue ThreadA stream of hot pink light flew toward the archway and hit a man with dark hair in the shoulder. A look of fear crossed the man's white face as he fell toward the archway. Bellatrix's malicious laugh echoed through the air as Sirius fell, fell, fell through the black veil.
Harry cried out in the night "Sirius," but there was nothing he could do. Harry blotted upright in his twin bed and looked around his dark room. Harry sobbed as he remembered. Dumbledore, himself, told Harry Sirius was dead. While Harry didn't want to believe it to be true, and deep down he thought it couldn't be, Harry also knew everything Dumbledore told him always turned out true, despite his hope that it could be different. The only adult Harry ever loved was now gone, and Dumbledore admitted the fault was his. Harry hated Dumbledore for that.
Harry lay awake in his cot reliving the night in the Department of Mysteries for the thousandth time. If only he had used the mirror. If only he would have learned Occlumency. If only Sirius hadn't been locked up with that damn house elf Kreacher. As the what-ifs floated in his mind, Harry realized that Dumbledore had told his first lie. Sure, Sirius listened to Dumbledore even when he didn't like what he had to say, but Sirius's death was just as much Harry's fault as it was Dumbledore's, Kreacher's, Sirius's and Snape's.
The last bit of happiness was sucked from Harry, as his disappointment in himself filled him—at least the Dementors wouldn't come near him this summer. The hate he'd focused toward Dumbledore all summer started to flow inward. He needed someone to talk to. Being locked up with the Dursleys surely wasn't helping. Sirius was the only person who could answer my questions. He actually listened. He was better than a parent. He just knew. Harry tried to think of something worthwhile, but it was getting harder to do. Thoughts about life ran through his head. I still live with the Dursleys . . . I am still banned from Quidditch . . . Ron and Hermione won't stop bickering, and Hagrid has a giant brother . . . oh yeah, and I have to kill Voldemort.
At 10:00 a.m. Mr. Dursley pounded on Harry's unlocked door. Harry imagined his uncle, with his round, purple face, looking ready to punch Harry at any moment. Harry didn't care though. He was beyond caring about the Dursleys. After the Advance Guard of the Order of the Phoenix talked to Uncle Vernon at the train station, Uncle Vernon chose to ignore Harry as much as possible, Dudley was wicked scared of him, and Aunt Petunia had suddenly started to whisper compliments to Harry. What that last was about, Harry had no idea. Thus, the summer with the Dursleys was a rather quiet one by comparison to the last fifteen.
Harry found himself curious about his aunt. How did she know anything about the wizarding world? How had she known about Azkaban, Sirius, and Voldemort last summer? Harry knew she had to pick up some of it from his mother when she came home for holidays, but somehow Harry didn't picture his mother talking about the war with Voldemort or anyone except possibly his father. Harry realized, however, that he knew very little of his mother. It must have been Dumbledore then. Harry decided to leave it with that.
Harry wandered to his bedroom door and opened it. Mr. Dursley's face was in its usual excessively red state as he stared at Harry with more fright than ever. He only handed Harry his post and retreated down the stairs. Harry expected his O.W.L. scores anytime now, but he didn't think this silver-coated envelope contained his scores. He peeled back the unknown seal and looked inside. There was no letter, just a long silvery-blue thread. The only objects Harry had ever seen that resembled this thread were the silvery strands of Dumbledore's memories when inserted into the memory viewing Pensive. Thinking it even stranger that there was no return address, Harry decided to write to Lupin, hoping that his experiences and vast knowledge in Defense Against the Darks Arts would prove helpful. Just before Harry tied the note to Hedwig's leg, he realized he couldn't write anyone. Not only would it be dangerous to the Order, but no one in the Order would understand any of the code he'd just written. He had only told Sirius those stories. Harry took the blue-silver strand, gently put it back in its envelope, and hid the envelope under his bed.
Feeling empty yet again, Harry, not hoping to hope, looked at the mirror Sirius gave him and said "Sirius." Smoke swirled within the mirror and faded. He turned away with a solitary tear washing down his face. Then he heard a voice. Could it be true? Or am I hearing things again? Harry looked into the mirror and saw a face. A man was vaguely there in the fog, but it was clearly a man with pale white skin and long black hair. Harry said "Sirius?" once again, and the man replied with barely a hint of the usual distain,
"Oh, Potter. I see. Sirius left directions to the Order on how to contact you. Said he'd told you to call for him if something were to happen." Snape did not have the look of disgust he usually saved just for Harry. He looked, in fact, mournful and tired. Harry barely registered this man with the 'greasy bat' he saw daily at Hogwarts, but Harry couldn't let himself have sympathy for Snape. Snape had tutored Harry in Occlumency, the object being to prevent Voldemort from using his connection with Harry via his dreams, but Snape quit teaching Harry at the time when it was the most important. The result was the trip to the Department of Mysteries last year and Sirius's death. In Harry's constantly changing mind, Snape was now responsible for his Godfather's death. The anger that should have been there with his thought didn't come. Harry just muttered "Oh," sighed and turned away.
"Let me get someone else," Snape said with a hint of compassion, while pinching his nose between his index finger and thumb like he did so often in Potions class right before Neville Longbottom did something disastrous to his potion yet again. Within moments, Lupin's ragged face filled the mirror's gray fog. Lupin's face, normally slightly tan and hairy due to the fieldwork he was usually on for the Order, was thinner and paler than ever. His hair and beard had started to pepper with gray and his bloodshot blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"Harry? What is it?" said Lupin quietly, his voice sounding both melancholy and kind. Harry, crying himself, looked back in the mirror. "It's okay Harry. It's brave to be able to cry." Harry turned away and tried to remember why he wanted to talk to someone. Harry pulled out the envelope from under his mattress. Without any words Harry showed Lupin the blue-silver thread.
Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Who sent this to you? Did they tell you what to do with it?"
Harry shook his head and replied, "No letter. No return address. Just this."
"Do you know what it is, Harry?"
Again Harry shook his head, "It looks a lot like Dumbledore's memories before he puts them in the Pensive, but how can that be? Wouldn't Professor Dumbledore tell me what it is if he sent it to me? I mean he would tell me, right?"
Lupin sighed and thought. Finally, with what seemed to be a great effort to speak, "Memories cannot sustain themselves. They cannot be far from their master without use of a memory capture devise like a Pensive . . . unless. . . " Lupin seemed to physically search through his mind, as he rumpled up his hair and rubbed his temples. The action in Lupin's face reminded Harry of Hermione when she tried to remember how to kill the Devil's Snare on their way to the Sorcerer's Stone their first year. Eyes wide open now Lupin gazed back at Harry. "A Muse. A Muse can send her thoughts to the person she feels needs them the most. Harry a Muse had to have sent it to you."
"A Muse?" Harry looked perplexed.
"Yes, a Muse. Muses are usually witches with a great knack for Legilimency and ideas." Harry's eyes rolled, "You mean like Professor Trelawney?"
"No, no Harry. Trelawney is something of a Prophetess, but there isn't really a whole lot to that. A Muse is born with her gift but can give people Ideas at will on how to invent something, how to use an ancient device, and even where to find a good story to write about. They are great friends to Muggles, especially those Muggles that create moofees." Harry's eyebrows rose. "Put it under your pillow tonight. I'm not sure but sometimes the Idea can filter into your dreams."
"But is it safe? I don't know who sent it. Couldn't they be on the wrong side?"
"That's the beauty of it. Muses can't have sides. They have to give their Ideas to whomever they exist for. Some do control this as much as possible by not giving Ideas to the bad side, but they end up going crazy with those evil Ideas within them and they die. Someone so pure can't withstand evil Ideas for long. They are like an ice cube in a fireplace"
"Oh."
"They are remarkably beautiful too." Lupin smirked a bit and his smoky gray eyes reflected a hint of reminiscence.
Harry visibly perked up seeing his last 'uncle' almost smile. "What? What are you smiling about?"
"Oh, just a memory I had of Sirius," Lupin replied with his smirk deepening and his tone teasing 'I know something you don't know.'
Harry frowned thinking Lupin wouldn't tell him one of the stories he craved. With the curiosity obvious in his voice Harry asked, "What was it?"
"Sirius was in love with a Muse." Lupin said and Harry smiled. "Of course, that was impossible because she would have to betray him if an Idea came to her for the other side. So she couldn't be around the Order."
"Oh . . . . She did fancy him though, right?"
"Yes, yes very much. I still think it was her that sent Sirius the Idea to change into a dog in Azkaban. Not that he wouldn't have come up with it on his own, but I'm sure she saved his life. . . . Alas, it is like the old tales of priestesses falling in love with mere mortals . . . they could never be together."
Harry sighed. Thinking of Sirius in love made Harry blush. He smiled softly at Lupin.
"Yes, well, I have to get going Harry. See you soon," Lupin winked.
Just as Harry caught on and was able to spit out, "What do you mean see you soon?" Lupin's head disappeared in the blue smoke.
Harry dangled the thread in front of him. The blue turned violet in the setting sun and looked like very fine dyed hair. "A Muse, huh," Harry smiled. He never was surprised when he learned something new in the wizarding world. He placed the strand under his pillow, as Lupin had suggested, and tried to think about Sirius in love. The first moment of peace since that day near three months ago lingered for a bit before he fell into a very deep sleep.
Harry's dreams began with a soft green haze lifting as Harry saw himself walking outside Gryffindor Tower. Carrying a box wrapped in red and gold foil covered with moving snitches, he crossed over to the trees where a very pretty girl, barely older than Harry, with smooth blue hair sat. He saw himself smirk as he gave the gift to the girl, "It's from Snuffles." The girl looked down at the gift and smiled like a rose petal. Her round face glistened with the glow of pure love. "He would have brought it himself, but he says you know why he isn't here presently." Harry could sense a tinge of jealousy in his statement, as if he didn't know where Sirius was.
"Yes," whispered the girl with a very airy voice. "Yes. Doing great things he is. Wonderfully great. He is the bravest of all Gryffindors, and Dumbledore knows it." Her violet eyes danced as she opened the box. Inside she found a beautifully embossed letter written very poetically on top of a red velvet box. Inside the box laid a silvery stranded chain with seven clear spherical crystal beads, the center orb twice as big as the others, with swirling purple colored fog inside them.
My dearest Blanche,
Your light lifts my soul higher than I ever dreamed possible—you know given my family. As I tread my dangerous path, I hold with me the bright Hope you give me. I know once this all passes we will be able to be together. I love you always in eternity.
Your Dear Snuffles
Wear the necklace to protect you from giving Ideas to those you don't want to receive them. I'm sure it will look most becoming with you dazzling violet eyes. Sirius
Sirius's words danced around the parchment and become a picture of Snuffles himself around sixteen grinning handsomely, eyes glittering with the love Harry remembered seeing often. Blanche looked up from the letter at Harry. A breeze made her hair move like the waves against the lake's grassy shore. As Harry looked through her eyes, he saw that it wasn't him he looked at. "Thank you, James. You are a dear boy," Blanche whispered to Harry's young father.
Suddenly, a purple swirling fog changed the scene. Again Harry saw the girl named Blanche, this time in the library studying, of all things, Occlumency. A horribly thin boy with greased down black hair and dark black eyes whispered sweetly in her ear, "Oh…Miss Nouveau how lovely you look today. The sparkles in your eyes waltz."
"Oh, Severus. You exaggerate," Blanche said taken aback and startled. Seemingly perturbed but frightened she stuttered, "I'm just . . . just studying rig . . .ht now."
"Oh, but what could you possibly need to study. You are a Ravenclaw after all. Tell me. I can help you. I do have a knack for many studies."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose you do . . . but I think I am better left to go at this alone, Severus, please."
"No. No. I insist. Let me help." With that he pulled away the book she was reading and began, "Ah. Occlumency, the study of protecting the mind from outsiders. But who Miss Nouveau are you to protect yourself from? Surely, no one such as yourself would have any enemies. You, being a Muse and neutral in nature," Snape said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"Well, Severus. Everyone has their vice," she said trying to sound playful, but indeed still a bit frightened.
"Yes, it is so. Well, here let me help you then. We will both stand up. We will analyze each others eyes, I will ask you questions, you will answer them, and I will search your mind for the truth."
"Severus, I don't think that's such a good idea. I know you are quite the good guesser, but how could you possibly read my mind. We are only in sixth year," Blanche tried knowing he was much better than just a good guesser.
"Oh yes, Blanche, but I have much time on my hands these days, as you know, without you," Snape's voice shook as he prompted her further, "So please let me help, if for the last time. He continued with his voice thick with hate, "Oh that's right, you don't trust me anymore, do you?" Snape looked down and pushed the book briskly back to Blanche. Then with an air of sympathy Blanche gave in,
"Yes, well, I guess letting you read my thoughts shouldn't be too terrible. You know half of them already. And . . . practice is always good."
Snape began cheerful yet serious, "Okay then. Clear your mind of emotion. Focus on being calm and safe. I will tell you to lie or speak truth before each question. Let's start with two I know the answers to so I can gauge your response. First, truth . . . What is your middle name?"
"Hope."
"Good very confident, truthful. Second, lie . . . What house did you pick to be in?"
"I didn't pick to be in any house . . . . The sorting hat put me in Hufflepuff."
Snape circled around her searching for flaws. "Well, not bad, still confident, but you hesitated a bit much and didn't completely lie. Let us continue." He stopped back in position and persisted very briskly, keeping his eyes steady and unwavering, "Now I will tell you if you lie or tell the truth. How many times have you gone to our secret place since we broke up?" Blanche blushed.
"Severus, really," Blanche said embarrassed.
"This is serious, Hope. Do you think the enemy won't ask you personal questions? Go on now," Snape finished not smiling anymore.
"Two times."
Severus shocked, questioned Blanche softly, "When?"
"The day after and a week ago."
"You tell the truth." Snape moved slowly toward her and continued gently not taking his eyes from hers, "Do you miss me?"
"Yes."
Snape moved on severely, "Truth. Why did you go to our spot last week?"
"I needed to know," Blanche searched, "if I was really over you."
With a slight hesitation and wavering in his voice Snape said, "Truth. And are you over me?" Snape's face was turning red and his eyes were about ready to burst.
Blanche said gently, her eyes pained, "No, not entirely." Snape leaned toward Blanche to kiss her.
She allowed it and Severus whispered scathingly, "Lie, my dearest." Snape stiffened and as he turned to walk away he saw the necklace. He looked at it now openly crying.
Blanche started toward him, "Severus, don't . . ." but it was too late she knew what he would do now, she had given him the Idea. She touched the necklace and wept silently with her head in her arms on the library table.
More purple fog swirled in Harry's mind and the new scene was yet another familiar place. This time Harry found himself in the room of doors in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was truly himself this time and he called out to the doors, "Death Chamber." The doors spun twice around him, once left and once right until they stopped and a door opened in front of him. Harry went through the door and saw the archway with the black veil. It beckoned to him.
As he walked closer he heard a very frightened Sirius yell at him, "No! Harry go away! You can't help me!"
Harry spoke towards the air by the veil, "Sirius. Where are you?"
"Go away Harry! I'll get out on my own!"
"Get out from where? You' . . . re d . . . ead."
"No. Harry I'm not dead. I'm just stuck here with the dead."
The purple fog swirled again, pink light shot out, and then a the head of a blue haired women with violet eyes spun in Harry's mind shouting in her airy voice which echoed,
"Sirius Black is alive." Harry sprung up in bed his head aching.
"Ouch." He rubbed his scar and cried. Was it just a dream? Is this just someone playing with my hope? But deep inside Harry knew it was true. Only one doubt lingered . . . How can I know this isn't fake?
Then, a voice whispered with soft hollowness through his room, "Come find me. Come find Blanche Hope Nouveau." Harry cried and fell back to his pillow. Could it be possible? He sure hoped it could.