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"How's your leg?"
Snape looked up from his desk, his bad leg stretched out to the side. "Rather useless, thank you. How's yours?"
The rebounded Avada Kedavera curse, along with the venom from that blasted snake's bite, had left his leg numb and stiff. There was no telling whether or not he'd ever be able to use it again, but at least it didn't hurt, and he was able to make his way around quite nicely, albeit with a pronounced limp. Severus had to admit, however, that the limp, along with a few more streaks of silver dramatically highlighting his long, black hair, made him look rather dashing. All he needed, he thought, was a black eye patch, and he'd cut quite a swath as a wounded, brave war hero turned pirate. Arrrrr, matey, he thought, grinning. Now all he needed was to kidnap himself a comely wench (which, as luck would have it, he happened to have sitting right on his desk at the moment), and he could cast quite a convincing portrayal of a dashing rogue. Yo ho ho and a bottle of elf-made wine…
His recent accomplishments, and his appointment as Headmaster to Hogwart's were causing him to receive quite a bit of extra attention these days. With the full front-page coverage that he and the others were receiving in the Daily Prophet lately, he was sure that he had at least as many female admirers as that moron Gilderoy Lockhart had once had. Snape snorted. At least he deserved his admirers for his own feats, unlike Old Smiley (as McGonagle had used to refer to the feather-brained moron.)
But, looking up at Lucie, who was looking right back at him with a mischievous, knowing expression on her face, Severus felt that there was only one female admirer that he wanted, and she was right in front of him. The thought gave him enormous satisfaction. Arrrrr…
Lucie chuckled, and she leaned her hip on the corner of the desk. "My legs are fine, thanks. Smart alec."
"Hmmm." He looked back down at the mountain of papers in front of him, then took his silver-rimmed glasses off, carefully folded them, and set them on top of the paper pile. He then stretched, and, with a huge yawn, leaned back in his comfortable dragon hide chair. The late morning sun shone through the large windows in the Headmaster's Office, highlighting his hair and bringing out the coppery highlights in his dark eyes. Snape folded his hands across his stomach and simply gazed at Lucie, his facial expression lazy and content. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit, comely wench?"
"Well, 'Headmaster'," she said, giving him a good swat in the head for the 'wench' comment, "Simon and I have pretty much got things cleaned up here. We'll be heading back on Monday."
"So soon?" Snape leaned forward, concerned. He didn't like that at all. "Why so soon?" He watched her intently. Those golden eyes of hers glowed strangely in the direct sunlight. As they always had, he thought, remembering the magical, sunny days of their youth. Before the clouds had set in.
"Simon's got a job to do. Plus he's bringing Draco Malfoy with him -- Draco's been admitted to the NAMLE Training Academy. And we've had his parents transferred to a hospital nearby the facility. His mum's regaining consciousness, and his dad doesn't look too bad, either. It'll take a long time, though, if either one of them is to recover." She looked back at Snape, her light brown curls swinging. He had to admit that she looked decidedly un-cop-like today, with her baggy sweatsuit and sneakers, her hair down and not a trace of makeup on her face. She looked unusually relaxed, as well.
"And you'll be returning to your job? Or are you -- forgive me -- still on suspension?"
"Nah," she said. "I'm going back to sell my house to Gordie. I quit my job yesterday. Life is too short, you know. As a friend says, 'Life is too short for just one hair colour'."
Snape stared at her, that odd tingling starting in his extremities again. He could have sworn he felt it even in his bad leg. "Right," he said, evenly.
"Yup." She grinned cheerfully, and unsuccessfully hid a yawn behind her hand. "Time for a change. Even though I love it in Canada -- you should really visit it someday. But I thought I'd come back, see if I can't find a job here, or even open up shop as a private 'dick', as Draco calls it. Who knows?"
Severus gulped. "You…ah…could become a teacher. The Defence Against The Dark Arts post is open… We're planning to re-open Hogwart's after Christmas…"
"Oh, I don't know," she said, leaning forward and playfully tugging a lock of his hair out of the tidy ponytail he wore. He sighed in exasperation and swatted her hand away, but then changed his mind and caught her hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Are there any rules against getting real snuggly with the Headmaster here?"
"Well," he said, starting to grin, "Yes, actually. Flitwick, Hagrid, Lupin and Slughorn are forbidden to even try. They're not my type. Especially Hagrid. Far too hairy, you know…"
Laughing, Lucie swooped down to kiss him -- and stopped as Minerva McGonagle walked in.
"Excuse me," McGonagle said, hiding a smile. "I just wanted to let you know -- Molly Weasley has been released from the hospital. She's expected to recover fully." McGonagle had chosen to stay on Hogwart's as a teacher only; nearing eighty-five, she felt that she had earned the right to take it a bit easier now, and chose to teach transfiguration.
Snape had appointed Rubeus Hagrid to the post of Head of Gryffindor, with the admonition that the introduction of any non-human creatures into residence was to supervised by Snape himself. Being Headmaster was going to have enough headaches -- he didn't want to have to deal with parents angry that their children had been mauled by dragons or hippogriffs or those damned blast-ended skrewts in their own dormitories. A thought occurred to Snape, and he scribbled it on a piece of parchment: Talk to Hagrid re: Fluffy, asap. He then turned his attention back to the two women in his office.
"Oh, wonderful!", Lucie cried. "Oh, I'm so happy for Arthur…he's suffered so much…" They fell silent, thinking of Charlie, of Percy, and of Ginny. Post-humour Orders of Merlin could not replace Arthur's beloved children.
"Yes. Arthur has sent a note requesting our presence at the Burrow tomorrow night. It's a celebration, of sorts. A celebration of life, and a celebration of lives lost." Minerva compressed her lips, unable to continue.
"Yes, Minerva. I will attend," said Severus. "Lucie?"
"Of course," she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I shall send word, then," said McGonagle, giving them a small smile and leaving the room.
"What about Potter's Memorial Celebration on Saturday?" Severus asked, looking at Lucie.
"Oh, I'll be there. Simon and I are speaking at it." Quiet now, she squeezed Snape's hand. He squeezed back, briefly, and then simply held her hand for a few moments. Lucie smiled at him, and leaned back down again to kiss him. Just then, Lupin walked in. With a resigned sigh, Lucie pulled away again.
"Hi Severus, Lucie. Oh…uh, am I interrupting anything?" He blushed slightly.
"No, no. God, no! Sev, I've got to get back to work, there's still debriefing and all that fun stuff. It's too damned busy in here for us to make out, so I may as well make myself useful…" Lucie jumped up and headed for the door, leaving Snape blushing and Lupin chuckling. "Oh, yeah," she said, swinging back around. "Final casualty count: fifty-eight of our troops dead, another six hundred and twelve wounded. Not bad, considering, but I'm going to be busy the next few days. I've got a lot of thank-you letters and letters of condolence to write. Simon and I will be paying visits to the families of the bereaved. I'm not looking forward to that, I'll tell you. It leaves you just gutted. But I'll see you at Arthur's tomorrow night."
"Fine," said Severus, bemused. "Let me know about those visits -- if I can get away, I'll make them with you."
"Thank you, Severus," Lucie said, softly.
"No problem," he said, gazing at her for a long moment. She smiled at him, and turned to go.
"Oh, and one more thing," Lucie called, turning back, as Lupin opened his mouth to speak. "Sorry, Remus, didn't mean to be rude. But it's official…Albus has consented to remain in office for the rest of this year, and until an election is called next summer. Arthur's staying on as Deputy."
"Albus had better get used to that office," said Lupin, smiling. "He'll win by a landslide."
"He said he's going to retire. He wants Arthur to win. I do, too." Lucie's amber eyes sparkled with amusement. "Albus thinks he'd like to teach here, if you're hiring. If not, maybe Gramps will hire him." She was referring, Snape knew, to Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, who was the owner of the Hog's Head Tavern. "Personally, I think Albus would make a fabulous barkeep"
Snape had already bent over his pile of papers again, his reading glasses once more perched on his nose. "Tell him to complete an application, and I need at least four references, none of whom are kin." He looked up at Lucie and winked. "That includes you."
"I'll let him know." She grinned hugely at him, and turned and left. Snape watched her go. Gone was the tired, somewhat burnt-out woman of several days ago, and in her place was that vibrant, funny girl that he had known. That he had loved. That he -- which he was discovering, to his great joy-- still loved. Wholeheartedly.
He smiled. The bad years were over, and done with. It was time to live again. The thought made him chuckle. An old song came to mind, for some reason, and he began to tap his quill in rhythm to it.
Come on, baby, let the good times roll!
xxx
Late Saturday night, everyone sat in Snape's new office, nursing a drink of some sort.
The Potter Memorial Service had been wrenching; but, it had also been liberating. And besides, they knew that Harry had chosen his fate. They all hoped that he was content with it.
Molly Weasley, much thinner and greyer, sat beside Arthur Weasley, holding his hand. Beside them sat Ron, Hermione, and Fred and George, all of whom were proudly displaying several Orders of Merlin on their chests. Arthur and Molly had some piled beside them, still in their boxes. Bill was back in the hospital, keeping an eye on Fleur who was suffering from a difficult pregnancy. It was wonderful, Severus thought, to see life in the midst of so much death and destruction, and he silently wished them well. Beside him, Lucie sat on a fat cushion placed on the floor, leaning back contentedly against Severus's legs, sipping from a glass of orange juice -- plain.
"Well, that's it, then," said Albus, tiredly. "It was a nice memorial service. I think Harry would have liked Viktor Krum's tribute." The famous Quidditch player had brought his entire team to the service, and, using coloured smoke trails emanating from their brooms, had written, "Farewell Harry Potter. Thank You" in huge multicoloured letters in the sky. The magical smoke would not evaporate for days. Undoubtedly, muggles would be puzzled, but they would not guess at the meaning behind the letters, most likely.
"Yes, definitely," added Simon. "He was quite a guy. I wish I'd known him better."
"Yes, he was," said Snape. "I hope Harry's found a better life where he is. Although he really was terrible at potions." Everyone laughed, and Hermione threw a small pillow at Snape, which he deftly deflected.
"So what about that Veil, then?" Lucie asked. "I mean, won't Harry have to put up with Voldemort and Wormtail on the other side? They went there, too."
Albus hesitated; then, he said, slowly, "I do not know, Lucie. No one does. Not for sure. No one still amongst the land of the living, anyway."
Arthur spoke up. "There are legends, though. Legends that say that what lies behind the Veil is not death, not really. But more of an other dimension, in which souls dwell." He shrugged. "There are thousands of studies and theories that have been put forth. If you like, I can let you have access to them. They're at the old Ministry, and are largely intact."
"But they all boil down to one basic fact," added Albus, "And that is that no one knows for sure."
"Huh," said Lucie, thinking for a moment. Then, "How old is it?"
"Don't know."
"Who built it?"
"Don't know."
"What do you know about it, then?"
Albus smiled gently. "Not much. It appears to be a portal, between life and what we refer to as "death". Other than that," he shrugged. "I'm sorry, dear. But the only ones who know are the ones who have gone through it, and they're currently unavailable for comment."
"So there's no way to know whether or not Voldemort and Wormtail are causing trouble over there?" Lucie frowned, concerned. Albus shrugged again.
"No. Sorry."
"Damn. Wait a minute," she said, sitting up straighter. "What about the ghosts? Would any of them know?"
"They have been questioned, over the years." said Albus, "And I'm sorry to say, none of them know, because none of them have allowed their souls to depart this plane of existence. They can tell us very little about death."
"Damn. Well, I guess I'll just have to go take a jump through it myself and find out."
"You're staying right here," Snape said lazily, grabbing her ponytail and holding it tight. "I'm having a hard enough time staffing this place as it is." Earlier that day, Lucie had agreed to teach the Defence Against The Dark Arts class, much to Snape's delight. He only hoped that the old curse against the position had disappeared along with Voldemort, because he definitely wanted her around for more than a year.
He'd made two more appointments that day, one of which he was unsure of. Hermione Granger had accepted the post of Muggle Studies, a position which he was placing great importance upon. He had decided to make the course mandatory. This division between Muggles and Magical Peoples had to be broken down -- it may cause some problems, yes, but in his opinion, the "us and them" mentality had caused more problems than a reunion would. He was going to pick Lucie's brain about the way that things were done in North America, to use for guidelines.
The appointment of Luna Lovegood to History Of Magic, however, made him a bit nervous, but there had been no other applicants after Binns had finally realized that he was dead, and as such, need not continue teaching anymore. The last Severus had heard of Binns, he and the Bloody Baron had decided to tour the countryside and have some fun haunting old castles. Snape knew that he should talk them out of it -- really, it was rather unacceptable behaviour -- but, in the end, he simply didn't have the heart to spoil the old spirits' fun, so he merely wished them well and advertised for the History of Magic position. Well, Snape thought, if anything, Luna should make the course more interesting -- Snape made a mental note to check over her course material beforehand, to make sure it did not contain anything too … er … strange…
A scratching sound caught his attention, and he sighed in exasperation. "Hedwig! Stop that!"
"What's she doing?" Lupin asked, frowning at the pretty owl. After Harry's demise, Hedwig had simply shown up in Snape's office, sitting on Fawkes' old perch, with a dead frog in her beak. She had made herself right at home, and Snape had let her. He'd always thought she was a lovely owl, and very well behaved -- for the most part, anyway.
"Oh, she keeps scratching at that old Pensieve," Snape snapped, limping over to where Hedwig was labouring. "Perhaps there's a mouse hole under there, or something." He lifted the Pensieve to check, and was amazed to find an envelope underneath. With a triumphant cry, Hedwig picked up the letter in her sharp beak, and flew to the center of the office, hovering overhead. Snape limped back over.
"What is it, girl?", he asked, frowning up at her. "Do you want to be let out? Here, let me open the window --"
Hedwig swooped down and dropped the letter neatly in Ron's lap, then flew over and landed beside Snape, who promptly offered her some owl treats. Across the room, Ron picked up the envelope, his face pale.
"It's from Harry!" Every head in the room swivelled towards him.
"He must have written it before the battle," whispered Hermione. "What does it say?"
"It's addressed to "My Friends", said Ron, carefully opening the envelope. He held up the small sheet of parchment, and began to read.
"To whoever is reading this:
If you're reading this, then we've obviously won the war and hopefully some of you are still alive. You all know who you are. I've designed this letter to self-destruct, if unfriendly hands touch it.
I just want to say thank you, for making my life so good here. Don't mourn…you need to know that I wanted to go through the Veil. I hope that I did manage to -- there's nothing left for me here, now that Ginny's gone. I hope that I'll see my family, and Ginny, on the other side. I don't know…but it's worth a try.
I love you all, and wish you the best of luck -- if we've won, then try to make a new world, a better world, than what we had. Stick together -- we're stronger together, than we are apart. And I know I'll see you all again someday. I know it. Love always,
Harry James Potter.
Ps -- can someone give Hedwig a good home? She likes fried bacon as a treat.
Pps -- I leave all my possessions to Ron and Hermione, or the Weasley family, whoever is still left. Mind the Firebolt, she's listing a little to the right lately.
Love, Harry."
Ron lowered the letter, tears pouring freely down his face, and beside him, Hermione held him close. A few sobs punctuated the silence in the room, but they were not unhappy -- it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from many hearts, and Dumbledore was the first to speak.
"I propose a toast." He held up his goblet of wine, and the others followed suit. Some were smiling, some were sobbing, but they were all united, and together. Dumbledore surveyed them, with a gentle smile, and said, simply, "To Harry -- and to the future, and to peace."
"To Harry."