Chapter 11: Broken Glass

It's dark, and just beyond the range of my hearing there are cries: of joy or pain or anger, I can't quite tell. Yet here I am, in complete silence, staring into a single marble of methylene blue.

I'm alone. Where is Harry?

Is this a dream? If it is, it doesn't feel like one of his. Where am I? The last thing I remember is Harry, cradled in my arms, breathing into my shoulder, holding on so gently and so desperately for what seemed like eternity. The next moment I'm here.

"Time, Severus." The thought is soft and alien and comfortingly, disconcertingly sweet. Like Dumbledore's Legilimency used to feel.

"What do you mean, time?"

"You wanted time to stand still. Here it is. Perfectly at rest. Yours forever, if you want it. Just reach out your hand and take it." I gaze into the marble until I can't tell if it's spinning or the world around it refuses to stand still, until I begin seeing things in its depths. The evening sky clear of clouds, the most profound and luminous blue; and beneath it the Garden, with its stars of hemlock blossom mirroring the starry skies: a sanctuary where the nightingale sings all night long.

So quiet and dark and calm. It's everything I always dreamed about, when my books and my bottles and my memories weren't enough to make me want to face another day. It's waiting for me, calling to the depths of my solitary soul: the home I never had.

But now, I have a home. Not Hogwarts; in that sense, it doesn't matter that Hogwarts is gone. My home is with Harry: wherever he goes. As much as I've longed for the Garden in the past, Harry is more important to me now than redemption or rest.

"I don't want peace." Not eternity, not a second. Because every second of this peace would mean another second of Harry grieving. That's too high a price to pay for leaving this world quietly in my sleep. My time will come, but not yet. Not quite yet. Let there be another morning, at least. If I wake to see it, I will fight for life until my final breath: to stay with him, for as long as I can.

How my heart aches. Is this truly the end?

The marble falls like a teardrop right in the middle of my palm. It explodes into a billion starry shards and everything goes white.

"Professor. Professor Snape! Is you well?" inquires a whiny, high-pitched voice.

"Shh! Let him sleep."

Harry? For a second I think I'm at Hogwarts, then I open my eyes. It's daylight. My neck is stiff. I'm leaning against the fallen tree. At my feet, two green, whip-like branches stretch from the dry trunk of the Whomping Willow. One slaps its neighbour; it slaps back, and the branches start going at it like two agitated boxers.

The ruins of Hogwarts still loom in the distance, a painful reminder of our failure. A house elf is leaning over me, and I recoil. Are there more of them around?

"It's all right," Harry says, "Dobby's a friend."

I take a second look at the elf. I remember 'Dobby', so different now from the wide-eyed scared creatures watching my every move at the Manor. "We've met," I grumble and leave it at that. He seems harmless and there are no other elves nearby. What I dismissed last night as the ruin of Hagrid's hut isn't a ruin after all. Lopsided, but supported by several tree trunks on one side, it has an overgrown pumpkin patch and a clothesline covered with small shirts, bright as naval flags. The clothesline stretches all the way to the nearest tree of the Forbidden Forest, as if the hut is anchored to the Forest, sheltering in its lee from the winds and the weather.

"So Dobby and Winky decided to see the world…" My attention returns to the elf as he continues to talk to Harry. "Went to Diagon Alley, didn't like it there. Too much noise, too many elves. Feathers and feathers," the elf waves his arms over his ears, "not a single old-fashioned hat or a sock. Not a place to raise the little ones. Dobby and Winky decided to come back to Hogwarts last year. It's quiet and good for a garden. You should see the size of Winky's carrots!"

"Wait, wait. You've got children?" Harry's eyebrows rise past his spectacles.

Along with Winky's carrots, apparently, though the images that thought leaves in my mind aren't any better.

"Yes." The elf nods proudly. "Dobby and Winky are a family now, with three little ones."

"Three?"

"Yes. Dobby can't believe it either! The oldest one's Harry," Dobby gives a gaping, frog-like grin. "And the second one's Wheezy, like Harry's friend. And this one's Minny, like Mistress Minerva."

"Which one?" Harry blinks.

"She is shy," Dobby chirps apologetically and snaps his fingers. With a flash, a smaller figure appears next to him. A huge-eyed elf with pink bows over her twitching ears is holding onto his knee. She's a toddler by house elf standards, and no prettier than a human child would be at that age. With her other arm, she clutches a stuffed grey cat with ears just as large as Dobby's. Both the elf girl and her toy have dandelions twined around their necks.

"Uhm, hi there!" Harry grins. "Are the other two invisible as well?"

Minny gives him an unblinking, cat-like stare: just as skeptical as it is stern.

"They were right here…" Dobby looks back and frowns. "Probably playing hide-and-seek at the Castle again. She likes them."

We both glance at the ruins. They look as empty as they did last night.

"Not that face of her," Dobby dismisses the ruins with a wave of a hand. "Stubborn thing's been hiding ever since you came. She did that to the little ones too, till last summer and all was good and quiet, but since she liked them and showed, Dobby's had no peace. All those rooms to look through to find the little ones."

What is he implying?

"What's hiding?" Harry echoes.

"Hogwarts is. Too many rooms. All empty and dusty. Minny got lost there once. It took Winky and Dobby hours to find Minny." He glares sternly at the child. "Is Minny going to do that again?"

The child hiccups, wide-eyed.

"Thought so," Dobby nods, satisfied.

The realization finally sinks in past my shock. Hogwarts is still there! Hidden from our sight, but still waiting for us past another circle of enchantments. Albus, old manipulator that he was, must've commanded the castle to raise every last ward, like a hedgehog tucking itself up and bristling out every quill. Hogwarts, intact! If this is true, I won't rest until I touch those walls with my own hands! But if it turns out to be a joke, I'll use said hands to strangle that elf!

I have to wet dry lips with my tongue before I croak, "Can you… take us into the Castle?"

Dobby nods. "You'll have to take a boat, like all the first-years. Or all you'll see of her is ruins. She's not used to visitors anymore."

A boat? Could this be as easy as taking a boat across the lake? "How soon can we be there?" I look at Harry and I'm certain he's thinking the same thing. The elf had better be telling the truth: if I keel over from all this excitement, at least let the cure be close at hand!

But far from keeling over, as we start walking toward the lake I find I'm actually feeling much better this morning, well enough to walk without catching my breath every two steps. It's a gift I'm not about to waste.

Dobby's 'boat' hardly merits the name: it's simply a raft tied together with vines, barely large enough for two house elves, much less a human.

I step gingerly onto it after Dobby, moving with care to avoid a cold lakewater bath. Harry hops on right next to me, as careless as I was cautious, and slides his arms around my waist. His proximity might've been explained away by lack of space, but this embrace is deliberate. It's the first time he's been so demonstrative when someone else could see him. I watch Dobby for any sign of reaction.

Dobby just nods, "Ready?" and pushes away from the shore. The raft begins sliding through the thin reeds and the lily pads, further and further away from land, until the shore is just a dark line, obscured by the chilly coils of morning mist which rise from the lake surface all around us, until we cannot see Hogwarts at all.

The homemade oars splash rhythmically. The lake's surface is so calm and smooth I can see my own face in it, as well as Harry's next to me. I'm not sure whether the reflection is Harry's doing or whether the lake's magic makes it easier to reflect a ghost. Either way, it feels strangely right to see Harry's face next to mine in the water.

"How long will it take?" Harry asks Dobby. "We're out far enough, aren't we?"

"Not yet." Dobby's long ears twitch. "Castle's stubborn."

"Do you remember?" Harry whispers in my ear.

"Remember what?"

"The first time you saw Hogwarts. Did you come on a boat too?"

"Yes." I nod. Everyone comes on a boat. It's part of the ritual, the introduction of a new inhabitant into the castle.

"It was dark. There were loads of stars, twice as many, 'cause they were reflected in the lake. And then I looked up and some of those stars weren't stars at all, but the castle windows. That's how I remember it for the first time."

"Look," Dobby cries, pointing with a crooked finger, "Over there!"

And then we can see the dark peaks of the castle towers, rising silently from the mist.

Harry's expression is radiant with awe, afire with delight, as though he's been given the best present ever, and in a way he was: he is home again. I can't help holding my breath at the wonder of it, just as I did the first time so many years ago, faced with the same momentous sight. My whole body tingles with gooseflesh and my throat is tight as I blink dampness from my eyelashes. This is what pure magic feels like. I never thought I'd feel this way again.

The castle rises out of the fog and gains form and detail: solid and tall, magnificent from every paving stone to every skyward-reaching spire. Harry's Hogwarts. Real at last, growing closer and closer, until finally the raft touches the shore.

As I disembark Harry takes off running, faster and faster, irrepressible with sheer joy: all angled, sharp elbows and knees, as eager and careless as a firstie. Halfway up the hill he looks back at me, as if checking to see I'm all right. I nod and wave him onward, and I follow him as fast as I dare, up the hill and to the main gates. I think I should be capable of going faster. I am capable. So I do. It feels like nothing can go wrong: not here, not now, not when we've finally found what we're looking for.

There are owls as far as the eye can see. Hundreds and hundreds of them; I wouldn't want to be the poor rodent having to sneak past their watch. They cover the castle watch towers, the battlements and windowsills, the nearby trees.

I walk up the steps, not quite believing my eyes. It's as though I've gone back in time, stepping through these doors for the first time as a student, and then as a teacher. Harry was right after all. He's found his Hogwarts at last, and it's real and it's whole and we're here!

The doors of the main entrance are ajar, leaving a gap just enough for a house elf to slip through. The rusted locking mechanisms gape like jagged teeth in a half-open mouth. I lean my shoulder to a door and push, and it opens wider with a grating screech.

In the light falling through the dusty stained glass windows and the doorway, I see Harry by the hourglasses. He sticks his hand through one of them. I should've known it would be the one that belonged to his House.

I can't resist. "Five points from Gryffindor."

I don't expect it to work, but five gemstones float from the bottom of the hourglass to the top. Harry jumps, startled, staring in disbelief at each ruby as it rises through his palm. How fascinating; of all things, the House points spell is still keyed to my voice! If only the rest could be that simple. But I know better: I set the wards on my dungeon living quarters myself, tuning them to recognise my magical signature instead of my appearance, since there were too many students willing to try Polyjuice, and any password might be guessed or overheard. But enough of that: I don't want to spoil Harry's excitement with my caution, past and present. "Well, as long as points can still be taken from Gryffindor," I drawl teasingly, "I suppose this crazy idea of yours about restoring this school might work after all."

Harry snorts. "Give 'em back!"

"I don't think so. A thousand points from Gry…"

"HEY!"

I smirk at Harry's shocked glare. "You've got no idea how many times I've wanted to say that."

He frowns at me, then turns that look on the hourglass holding emeralds, and the serpent statue coiled on top. He reaches through the glass and seizes one of the gems in his translucent fist. His whole face is intense with concentration and it takes an obvious effort, but he just manages to lift the emerald to the top sphere. He gives me a smug look and reaches for another stone. "There. Are you sure you want to continue?"

The serpent glares and hisses. Harry jumps back. The serpent slithers forward, curling around the hourglass as if it's a precious nest of eggs.

"Fine, if you're going to be like that," Harry mumbles and concludes with a sibilant hiss.

The silver snake hisses back, looking ready to strike if Harry were any closer.

Something rustles at the front door. "HARRY!" Dobby yells.

Harry jumps, startled, but Dobby looks past him eyeing the silent corridors. "You better not have taken your brother into the dungeons AGAIN!" he yells down one corridor, setting off broken echoes all over the entrance hall.

My Harry gives me a sheepish glance. "I reckon I ought to help him find my namesake."

"All right," I nod. "We should try the towers." I imagine someone as short as a young house elf would appreciate the view from the top.

"Um, actually can you wait here for a bit?" Harry mumbles. "Don't go anywhere; in fact, don't move away from the hourglasses."

I arch an eyebrow.

"There are wards and… things all over. I don't want you hexed, or worse. Magic's dangerous, y'know. Some of the portraits like to steal people into the picture, the doorknobs bite fingers off, the tapestries are a perfect place for Boggarts, and I don't even want to think about what Peeves has been up to all these years!"

"Mister Potter, don't you think I of all people would know what kind of magic Hogwarts contains?"

"Please, stay. I need to… I'll be right back." He disappears after Dobby before I can say another word.

To hell with Peeves, what's Harry up to?

It doesn't matter. There's something I have to do alone. I wait until the voices in the corridor fade into the distance, and then I turn to the nearest stairway and head for the dungeons.

I avoid the suit of armour in the corridor to the left – it used to like to take a swing at passers-by – and step around a narrow rug with a very short temper. I might not dare to venture into the kitchens or the library without backup, but Filch's rooms should be safe. The rusted, plain padlock hangs loose. I slip inside the musty cupboard-like space, burning matches until I find a candle sitting on the desk among years' worth of items Filch confiscated from the students. Quick Quotes Quills, and Smoking Wands, and even a flying carpet rolled up in the corner. A long, narrow box with bright wrapping catches my eye. Ah, and those, of course. I slip the narrow box into my pocket, and then finally I find what I came here for: Filch's set of keys to all of Hogwarts' doors, hanging off the arm of his chair. While others used their wands to unlock the entrances and pass into the warded rooms, these keys were the only way Filch could get around the entire castle.

I take the heavy ring of keys along with the candle, and continue on my way down.

The keys unlock the hidden stairway which leads into the dungeon corridor. It's dark and stale, almost like a crypt. Portraits who haven't seen light in years glare blearily at me as I pass by. There shouldn't be any hidden surprises in this part of the castle, and if any of the portraits decide to trap me on their canvas… well, spending eternity as a portrait wouldn't be any worse than the fate I fear, and at least that way Harry would always be nearby. Nevertheless, I stay close to the centre of the corridor, avoiding the tapestries and the hag statue in the corner.

It's a familiar path. I always used it on my way down from Dumbledore's office, after reporting to him from Death Eater meetings. It was the fastest way back to my rooms, and it hid my exhaustion from the prying eyes of students and teachers alike. That privacy was worth a few stumbles on stairs made shadowy and treacherous by my weakened Lumos.

Now, my single flickering candle's no brighter than my exhaustion-sapped Lumos used to be. If I hadn't memorised these turns long ago, I'd probably be reluctant to go this far into the heart of the abandoned castle. Who knows what horrors the dungeons might house now?

I frown inwardly, wrestling with the pessimism of a lifetime, knowing that making myself anxious without cause is doing my health no good. After all, I ask myself determinedly, how bad can it really be? Harry's haunted this place for years.

The thought of him gives me the strength to carry on, descending step by step into the main part of the dungeons, where the potions classrooms are located.

My candle is almost burnt out. I grab a nearby torch out of its holder. It's covered with dry dust, which crackles and sputters out acrid, clinging smoke. Then the torch itself flares to life, lighting the passageway and the open door of the classroom. Did I ward it the last time I left? There's only one way to find out. I take a deep breath and step inside.

Nothing happens as I cross the threshold. Broken glass crunches viciously under my feet. The floor is littered with shards and dried puddles: this mess is all that remains of bottles and jars of now-priceless ingredients. Damnation! Such is the fate of everything left unattended for years in a castle with a poltergeist. I just hope the single bit of glass I need has survived.

I search the chaos on the shelves. The potion should be there, right where I left it: third rack from the door, fifth shelf down, a narrow phial with an inconspicuous label. Please, let it be intact!

It's the right shelf, I know it is, but it's empty. I reach out, unwilling to believe my eyes: my hands falter across the dusty, barren plain of wood, but still the potion I need isn't there. On the floor below the shelf is a pathetic little pile of glass, shattered as thoroughly as my hope. It's the most literally heart-rending thing I've ever seen.

I don't know how long I spend staring at it numbly; I don't even have the strength left to be properly horrified.

It's over. There's nothing else I can do.

I leave, unwilling to spend another moment in this place. I have to find Harry.

By the entrance to the dungeons, I can hear the sounds of a scuffle and random shouts.

"But we're careful, and Peeves said a giant WORM lives in the bathroom…"

"You two know better than to listen to Peeves."

"But Da-ad..."

"What did your mum tell you? Peeves is trouble."

"But Peeves said the worm turned people into ROCKS!"

"Yeah, Dad. Can we go look for people-rocks? Can we?"

Dobby rolls up the sleeves of his knitted jumper and gives two long-nosed, skinny brats in matching red capes a menacing glare. Then he reaches out and yanks both boys by their twitching ears, pushing their heads forward. "Home. March!"

He pokes his head through the door on his way out. "Dobby will be back," he says, with a long suffering sigh. "Without children."

"Was that one of them people?" the smaller boy whispers excitedly behind his back. "Did the worm get him yet? OW! What was that for?"

The door slams, leaving Harry and I alone.

"Where've you been?" he asks, "I was worried."

There are no words, so I just shake my head. It's too late for worry. Too late for anything. Certainly too late for me.

"I, um, got something for you," he smiles. "It's a surprise."

He points at the steps. And there, a single phial stands. The phial I was looking for: the one I'd given up as broken!

"Y'said last night that you had potions here at Hogwarts that could help. I couldn't get it myself but I asked Dobby, so he went through your Potions stores and all the cupboards…" Harry goes on talking but I'm too overwhelmed by the shock of joy to pay attention.

There's no question I could mistake that phial for anything else: I brewed and and filled and stoppered it myself, years ago, for the seventh-years' Apparation lessons. I never imagined I could be so delighted to see a standard Desplinching Decoction. I can feel myself gaping at it like a slack-jawed idiot, but I don't know what to say. To think that I spent all that time looking for this potion, only to have Harry find it first! "Harry…"

"I know it's too late to know for certain. But it's there and it wouldn't hurt you to drink it, would it? And maybe it'll cure you."

I nod to him. Yes, it still might. I reach for the phial with shaking hands, unstopper it, sniff carefully, shrug, and drain it to the last drop. Nothing that tastes so bitter and stale should be so damn welcome.

Harry watches me intently. "How'd you feel?"

The potion leaves a slight burn in my chest. I roll up my sleeve to examine the circular scar above my elbow, and it's the same white, ropy line as always. There's no sign of change yet, but I hope to see some effect in the next six hours. "Tolerable," I tell him. "Actually I've felt better since this morning. Thank you."

He beams and steps closer, pressing his forehead against my jaw. The familiar gesture brings up the image of last night, vivid and clear, and my mind supplies the scent of his hair and the warm feel of his skin from a recent memory. "For everything," I add, in near whisper.

His eyes shine.

Afternoon sun lights up the entire owlery. The tower has been left too long to the elements; there are holes in the roof and cracks in the walls. The floor is covered with layers of droppings, pellets and moulted feathers. The bones of rodents and small birds line the corners. Perhaps the rat from the Shrieking Shack didn't make it far after all. Something small and silver glistens among the bones: I didn't even realise that owls hoarded treasures like crows.

"Shh, don't come any closer," Harry whispers.

A majestic snowy owl is nesting in one of the window frames. Three owlets peek out from under her wings.

"Is it really you, girl? Look at you, you came home at last."

The owl doesn't turn her head when Harry speaks, but her entire posture is wary and tense. She senses something.

"She can't see me," Harry sighs. "I tried everything already."

The tracking spells for post owls, connecting them to their owners, must've disappeared when our magic slowly drained into the Earth. The owls are simply birds now, just like any others in the forest. She has changed, just as I have.

The magnificent bird croons softly to her owlets. I stay in the doorway, in the shadows, unwilling to disturb them. Harry stands with me, watching her.

"Yeah, that's definitely her," Harry grins. "She's probably all wild now, like the others."

The owl looks around and snaps her beak in warning at the shadows I am hiding in.

"Come away," Harry glances back sadly. "She's protecting them."

"Hedwig was her name, wasn't it?" I glance over my shoulder at him.

"Yeah, like the saint. She always watched over me," he whispers when we're through the doors. "She was a good bird."

"She is spectacular. Give her time, she'll recognise you again."

"Y'really think so?"

"I know so. You're too damned stubborn not to be noticed for long." I remind him in tones wry with experience.

He leads me down the staircase and then, suddenly leans over and places one solemn kiss on my cheek. My skin tingles with the now-familiar frisson of his energy.

"What's that for?"

"Nothing – just 'cause. Thanks."

Hogwarts! The classrooms and the commons and the stairways and even our Gryffindor hourglass: it's all here down to the last ruby. It's so bloody good to be back!

The lion statue is sprawled across the top of the hourglass, sound asleep and snoring in a quiet, growly tone. The rubies are still bright behind the dusty glass. We sure lost a lot of House points that final year, but I can't really care. It feels brilliant: coming home after a long, tiring journey and finding things exactly as I left them. Well, almost, 'cept for the things that won't ever be the same again.

I still can't believe Hedwig didn't notice me. Come to think of it, Mrs. Norris never did either. The portraits ignored me, but I think that's 'cause Peeves put them up to it.

Oi, what's that? It felt like someone… touched me?

I look up. The golden lion on top of the hourglass yawns and stretches lazily. He paws my hair again. I bat his paw away, but my hands go through it and I overbalance and nearly fall right through the hourglass.

Severus chuckles as he watches, from where he's leaning on another hourglass. Trust him to pick the one with the emeralds, Slytherin sod.

I glare up at the lion. Damn cat had better learn to keep his paws to himself. "Oi, stop laughing!" I tell Severus.

"Who's laughing? You really do have a vivid imagination." Severus hmphs and looks down. He always does that, so his hair falls forward and curtains his face. I saw him do the exact same thing when he was young, in his memories. Somehow it's comforting to see that. Since he's kept that habit for so long, it means it's true.

"Oh, come on. I already saw you smile."

"Saw what?" He gives me a sour look, his mouth tense and his cheeks even more caved in than usual.

I just bet that he's biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. Who does he think he's gonna fool with that? "I know you can. Even if you pretend all the time that your mouth doesn't stretch that way."

There's a quirk at the corner of his mouth and a warm drawl, "You really are an impertinent scamp, you know that, don't you?"

"How come you only do that when no one's looking?"

He smiles, really smiles, just for a moment. "Do what?"

"That."

"Well. It's not as if it's an aesthetic experience." And there goes the hair again.

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

He gives me a dubious look. What? I meant it! Though I reckon it was the wrong thing to say. "Don't be absurd," he drawls. "I have teeth like an earthquake in a cemetery; even a face like mine isn't improved by making a display of them." His upper lip curls like he's about to bite.

"Um. I hadn't noticed."

He stares at me. "How could you possibly not…"

"Paranoid git! Why would I be looking at your teeth? I was looking at your eyes." It's like talking to Buckbeak, trying to persuade him you respect him. I reckon Severus can be every bit as bitey as a hippogriff, sometimes. Well, mostly. And then, other times he smiles, like this. Close-mouthed, lopsided, and hesitant, but this time he doesn't try to hide it. His hand twitches, and it's as if he wanted to lift it to my face but forgot he can't touch me. I move closer anyway. Just in case that's what he wanted.

His eyes widen and he looks almost lost. Like it's not me he's looking at, but a door: the dark, shiny door of Malfoy Manor back when he was still a student. Never thought I'd be so glad to be in a door's place, especially Malfoy Manor, but it's wonderful. I don't want it to stop.

"I like it when you smile, it's brilliant."

His look is strangely warm as slowly, tentatively he leans in, until we're forehead-to-forehead. It's a marvellous sight. It's better than flying. "Brilliant?" he rumbles, "You're the one who shines."

Harry moves on a little ahead of me, eager, energetic: in the dark corridor his opalescent form glows like a beacon.

He isn't looking, so I quickly shove up my sleeve and examine the scar on my arm in the light of a window. The scar isn't a circle any more: the outer part of it has thinned and disappeared. My arm feels a bit numb. The potion is working! I look closer. There's a thin dark line of bruising left behind instead of the scar. That's not supposed to happen.

I pull back my collar to examine my shoulder. The scar's begun to grow thinner, but there's a similar dark ring of bruising all around the area. Damn it! The potion's supposed to erase the scar completely and replace it with healthy tissue. There's no question I brewed and sealed it correctly, of course. Still, I've never stored Desplinching Decoction for as long as this before using it.

I flex my arm. Well, my arm still works and the numbness has almost faded: apparently the potion's worked just fine with my extremities. I really should stop worrying; it does me no good. All the same, I can't help but remember that bruising, and wonder what'll happen when the healing process reaches the centre of my chest. I suppose there is nothing more to do but wait and see what happens.

"I believe your potion has had some effect," I admit to Harry.

"And you doubted?" he grins. "Course it has. 'Cause it's your potion! You'll be fine."

"A surprise? What is it?" Harry bounces next to me, all around me, like a kneazle after a rogue Snitch.

I take a deep breath, and lean back against the stair rail. My chest feels numb. It can only mean one of two things, and I refuse to think that the end might be near. There will be good things ahead, so why wait for the scar to be gone to enjoy them? I'd rather have it all, now.

"Are you all right?"

I nod. "Fine. And it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."

"Oi! Let me see it at least."

"Patience." I reach into my pocket for the matches, and take the first narrow cylinder out of the box from Filch's office. The Grand Staircase is as good a place as any to set off fireworks, as the infamous Weasley twins have already demonstrated once. This time, it'll even have a secondary purpose; it'll give all the bats a scare and wake up the snoring portraits.

Harry's eyes light up as bright as the fireworks, as the first explosion blooms amid the frozen staircases.

Fireworks! For me! They're just like I remembered and so much better! All these green and red and yellow and brilliantly noisy explosions all over. A shining red dragon snakes through the hallway, bouncing off the walls, burning off the old dusty spider webs and scaring the bats. A fountain of firework snitches is next, whizzing and swarming in the air all around the silent stairways.

"Brilliant!"

"Yes." Severus smiles at me; he's leaning casually against the railing of the staircase, just a few steps up from the floor. He lights another fuse and throws the firework into the air: with a howl it explodes into a field of golden blooms with silver bees buzzing from flower to flower. It's magic, of a very happy and human kind, brought to life and given back to the castle. This is Hogwarts, waking up again after all these years. Amazing! So beautiful! It's great that Severus is here to see it with me. When the deafening clapping and whistling fades I hear something else, much quieter. The box of matches falls with a brittle wooden rattle, from Severus' lax hand.

"Severus?"

He's slumped against the railing, slowly collapsing.

It takes me a second to reach him. "What is it?" He's so pale.

"I…" he gasps. "I think it's time."

Time? NO! He took the potion! It was working!

"Listen, I don't want you alone… find Granger…" he coughs, "or Lupin."

No! NO! This isn't happening! "Dobby. DOBBY!"

"Live! Don't believe anyone… says you're not real."

"Don't! You'll get through this, you will!"

"I'm… I… Harry…"

"Hang on, you'll be fine. Just don't talk like you're… Severus? SEVERUS?" Oh God! "Say something!"

He isn't moving and I can't feel his heartbeat any more, is he… No, no, it's all right. It's got to be. I've got to stay calm. It's not over. Even if he… he's… even if he's died, that doesn't mean he's gone. He'll be back, just like I was. We'll stay at Hogwarts and years from now everyone'll be back and he can even teach, like Binns. Everyone'll help: Remus, Hermione, Ginny. Everyone'll be happy again and we'll be happy together. Severus and me.

"Severus?" Where is he? Is he still here? Will he be a ghost, like me? The hall is empty, there's no one on the stairways. "Are you here?"

Everything's so empty. It's getting colder. Freezing. No! He can't have left me here! Please, not this! I don't want to be alone!

"Come back! Please! SEVERUS!"